Why Her, Not Me?
I did the opposite. You were a good thing I didn't grab fast enough, so when you walked to her, and I watched you leave, I learned my lesson. You taught me to grab love with everything I have because having it slip away with the notion of "I tried" wasn't going to be good enough. So when something resembling love came my way, I did not hesitate. I had guarded my heart for so long, and I didn't want to take the chance.
I grabbed. Lept. Soared. Floated. Slowly to my end. The end that I had so hard fought to avoid because I deserve it all. I deserve a great love where I don't have to compromise who I am to fit by your side or to be in your company. I don't have to dim my light because we shine brighter together. I deserve it all. So when I was ready to try again, I met some dazzling people who were not in a position to give it all to me. So we remained friends.
And then I met him.
He was everything although I didn't even see that on the first date. The first date was so bad that I was certain there would never be a second. All he wanted to do was eat his chicken. Fast forward a few months later, we reconnected and went out again .. and this time, things just clicked. I fell in love with him on the second date, where we shared our first kiss. Where we sat side by side in the booth and held hands under the table like highschool kids. He had my heart.
We talked about how bad the first date was and why we decided to try it again. He was surprised to hear from me. I figured, what would the harm be in a second date. And who wouldn't want a second date with me?! (EGO)We laughed so hard. We looked into each other's eyes. We ate. We talked a lot about life and our expectations from dating and what we wanted out of this rat race. We were aligned. It was the first of many moments we shared. But clearly, I heightened the experience in my head because I was the only one in this.
Fast forward to the house you showed me, with the words of building a family and home uttered from your lips with my being in earshot. We walked through the shell before renovations started, and I stood there in the moments shortly after everything was done. We made love in what I thought was our safe space. How stupid was I? Did I not ask the right questions? Was this the lure for all "single and willing" women with whom you happened to meet? Was this the line or game you played, and I happened to fall for it? ... how stupid was I?
Fast forward to the unborn life I didn't know I carried, that left me riddled with unfamiliar emotions after it left the safe place of my womb. I still don't know which single word can describe what I felt in the moments after it all happened. Always the happy spirit, but in those moments and thereafter, my spirit was darkened by loss and your rejection. How was I to know that the moments we spent entwined in the raptures of heightened love, would create someone so special, that would leave a gaping hole in the rest of my life?
Fast forward to the moment you blurted out "I love you" after a tequila-fueled evening amongst strangers - your friends - on that Labour Day weekend. What I had been dying to say since we met, you uttered and kept on uttering until it became a broken record. It was my favorite. So much so, that when I drove us home the next morning, you couldn't even talk to me or give me a straight answer about what we shared in the previous hours. What had changed? Was it regret? Or just the pulsating feeling of being so hungover and needing to hydration. Who the fuck knows! All I remember is that for the next six weeks, I couldn't pin down a date to see you. You didn't want to come to my birthday dinner which I had told you way in advance about and you agreed to come, but which somehow coincidently was on the same night as your Dad's birthday as you recalled so last minute when you let me down.
So many signs of how wrong this was going, but was it just me who didn't see them?
Fast forward to when you did agree to a date and I came over. Weeks it took. And all you wanted to do was talk about the generals. In those moments that followed, as we ate dinner, watched a movie, had sex and fell asleep ... it seemed so finale but I didn't want to let it be so. My heart was full and I was just so excited to see you because it was the night we made it "official" with titles. I told everyone who didn't want to hear. They were happy for me. For us. But the fullness did not last long, because it was only a few short weeks after, that you text me to tell me you had met someone else and you were sorry. And then it was on social media and it became very apparent that it was game over. Especially since we had talked about relationships on social media, and we both were of the mindset that our private lives were just that, private, and not for public consumption. But there you were.
And just like that, you were expecting your first baby boy by your 40th birthday, and I was a past forgotten memory.
I never understood and still to this day don't understand why I was not the choice. I'm smart, funny, beautiful, giving, amazing ... all the words you used to describe me, but I wasn't the pick. For once, I did the opposite and ran forward and was vulnerable and yet ... I was not the choice. Can someone explain it to me? Anyone?
I grabbed. Lept. Soared. Floated. Slowly to my end. The end that I had so hard fought to avoid because I deserve it all. I deserve a great love where I don't have to compromise who I am to fit by your side or to be in your company. I don't have to dim my light because we shine brighter together. I deserve it all. So when I was ready to try again, I met some dazzling people who were not in a position to give it all to me. So we remained friends.
And then I met him.
He was everything although I didn't even see that on the first date. The first date was so bad that I was certain there would never be a second. All he wanted to do was eat his chicken. Fast forward a few months later, we reconnected and went out again .. and this time, things just clicked. I fell in love with him on the second date, where we shared our first kiss. Where we sat side by side in the booth and held hands under the table like highschool kids. He had my heart.
We talked about how bad the first date was and why we decided to try it again. He was surprised to hear from me. I figured, what would the harm be in a second date. And who wouldn't want a second date with me?! (EGO)We laughed so hard. We looked into each other's eyes. We ate. We talked a lot about life and our expectations from dating and what we wanted out of this rat race. We were aligned. It was the first of many moments we shared. But clearly, I heightened the experience in my head because I was the only one in this.
Fast forward to the house you showed me, with the words of building a family and home uttered from your lips with my being in earshot. We walked through the shell before renovations started, and I stood there in the moments shortly after everything was done. We made love in what I thought was our safe space. How stupid was I? Did I not ask the right questions? Was this the lure for all "single and willing" women with whom you happened to meet? Was this the line or game you played, and I happened to fall for it? ... how stupid was I?
Fast forward to the unborn life I didn't know I carried, that left me riddled with unfamiliar emotions after it left the safe place of my womb. I still don't know which single word can describe what I felt in the moments after it all happened. Always the happy spirit, but in those moments and thereafter, my spirit was darkened by loss and your rejection. How was I to know that the moments we spent entwined in the raptures of heightened love, would create someone so special, that would leave a gaping hole in the rest of my life?
Fast forward to the moment you blurted out "I love you" after a tequila-fueled evening amongst strangers - your friends - on that Labour Day weekend. What I had been dying to say since we met, you uttered and kept on uttering until it became a broken record. It was my favorite. So much so, that when I drove us home the next morning, you couldn't even talk to me or give me a straight answer about what we shared in the previous hours. What had changed? Was it regret? Or just the pulsating feeling of being so hungover and needing to hydration. Who the fuck knows! All I remember is that for the next six weeks, I couldn't pin down a date to see you. You didn't want to come to my birthday dinner which I had told you way in advance about and you agreed to come, but which somehow coincidently was on the same night as your Dad's birthday as you recalled so last minute when you let me down.
So many signs of how wrong this was going, but was it just me who didn't see them?
Fast forward to when you did agree to a date and I came over. Weeks it took. And all you wanted to do was talk about the generals. In those moments that followed, as we ate dinner, watched a movie, had sex and fell asleep ... it seemed so finale but I didn't want to let it be so. My heart was full and I was just so excited to see you because it was the night we made it "official" with titles. I told everyone who didn't want to hear. They were happy for me. For us. But the fullness did not last long, because it was only a few short weeks after, that you text me to tell me you had met someone else and you were sorry. And then it was on social media and it became very apparent that it was game over. Especially since we had talked about relationships on social media, and we both were of the mindset that our private lives were just that, private, and not for public consumption. But there you were.
And just like that, you were expecting your first baby boy by your 40th birthday, and I was a past forgotten memory.
I never understood and still to this day don't understand why I was not the choice. I'm smart, funny, beautiful, giving, amazing ... all the words you used to describe me, but I wasn't the pick. For once, I did the opposite and ran forward and was vulnerable and yet ... I was not the choice. Can someone explain it to me? Anyone?
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