Have you ever reflected on your life, and remembered a decision you’ve made that you regret? Maybe not regret, but wonder, “What if I had chosen a different path?” I’m finding myself asking that question right now. I remember when he and I first met. I remember the first day we bartended together and thinking he was a really cool guy. I was going through some real issues in my struggling 3 year relationship with Brad*. The thing that’s sticks out in my head about the beginning was how I knew he was interested in me, through certain actions of his and through everyone else’s gossip about it.
I hung out with him quite a bit. I remember driving home from his sublet apartment, and getting the sweetest text messages from him. I remember thinking, “This guy seems crazy about me! And he’s a decent guy… what did I do to deserve this?” I also remember thinking, “Better be careful, you know how it works… he’ll be all hung up on me now but when it ends I’m the one who won’t be able to let go.” Maybe it was self-fulfilling prophecy but it’s not that simple. I think things really started to go downhill when we moved in together. As good as it was… a large part of me will always regret doing it. Not that I wouldn’t do it again if I were in the same position. But, I would definitely go about it a whole lot differently.
I was scared. I knew it was too soon. I didn’t know very much about the guy. I knew enough about him to know that it would be fun to live with him. But I didn’t know him enough to know that he wouldn’t have the guts to tell me that it didn’t mean as much as he let on.
When we first moved in. I was completely ready to treat it as something we were doing out of convenience and hell, if that convenience meant we got to have great sex (yeah, I’ll give him that, it was g-r-e-a-t!) anytime we wanted: bonus! But he (of course he’d never admit this) gushed about how much he loved being able to call it our home, and loved coming home to me. I don’t doubt for one minute that he meant what he said. I just wish I knew *then* that it wasn’t as long-lasting as it sounded. It felt so deep, his words, but I guess somehow my heart felt a connection that might not have been there and held on.
Hindsight is 20/20. Of course, I should’ve known that his not wanting to ever talk about what we were going to do when he moved back home was a sign. But I wanted to hope. And his lack of conversation on the subject left me full of it. He’s apologized for not telling me sooner that he was never planning on staying with me when he went back home. I’ve forgiven him. Naturally. I don’t think I could hate him if I tried.
I’ve tried. I can’t.
The funniest thing about me and relationships? I become really insecure when I’m in a relationship and I just don’t know why. It’s ruined every single relationship I’ve ever been in. I’m the most confident person in the world outside of a relationship. You can ask anyone I know. ‘Shy’ is not a word you would find under, “Describe her personality”. I dunno. I don’t get it. I’m gonna go do today’s crossword.