Odds and Nevers

I've been hesitant to talk about my feelings about...him...with anyone. Not even my therapist. I'm trying to adjust to how things are now. Trying to be the best friend, and not the grieving ex.

He doesn't really get it, this soul crushing sadness. I think he takes it as an insult to what was and what still is. How do I begin to explain how deeply the loss cuts at me when he doesn't view the events in the same light?

To know that the odds are I'll never see him flash that sadistic smile my way again. Nor have him pull me close and sooth all the aches. Never feel pinned beneath his gaze as he tells me that I'm his. Knowing the butterflies in my stomach that I still get every time we're together aren't going to be soothed.

That a shared secret desire, spoken while hovering over my phone, in a chinese restaurant a stone's throw from where I spent my childhood...is never going to happen.

One of the things I treasure most is a poem he wrote me for my birthday.

The ache is so deep because these were the bright spots of my life. They make me smile, even now as tears are running down my cheeks. He'll be the standard against which all other men will be measured. The day may even come when "it's not him" won't be running through my mind.

And it hurts because I'm coming to terms with the idea that these things will never happen again. Not maybes, or perhaps.

He'd say "never say never", but he'd follow it up with "I can't promise you anything either."

Realizing he changed his mind about me hurts more than words can express. He once told me that I was everything he'd ever wanted and been searching for. I know that's no longer the case.

How is it not supposed to hurt? He may claim that this was a friendship with a little bit more added on. But I call bullshit. I know all of you will. My therapist does. My friends are outright baffled. Not just by the fact that things ended, but how he claims he viewed us.

Maybe towards the end that's all I was to him. But it wasn't always that way. I'm coming to terms with that too because I had no idea.

He'll want to talk about this and I just don't have it in me. I'll survive this. I'll wrap it up neatly and put it on a mental shelf. One day it won't hurt so much. And even though he'll know, I won't let the grief show.

Because I can't lose his friendship too. Seeing him smile, listening to him talk about his passions, being a support and a confidant is worth more to me than any pain I feel.

Good thing I'm a masochist...