Monday, June 30, 2014

The One That Got Away

Did you ever have "the one that got away?" It doesn't have to be a fish in your tall tale.  But everyone has one, don't they?  One weird example was the t-shirt that i really wanted to buy at the Carman concert when i was about 13.  My mother had given me the money, but she had also, over time, impressed upon me the fact that we had NO extra money.  I had the t-shirt in my hand, and i put it back.  I have never forgotten that moment, or the shirt.  That's why i tell Matthew that no matter how "broke" we are, that he should get something if he really wants it, cuz we'll still be broke even if he doesn't spend the money, so he may as well have something he enjoys.  But enough about my stellar parenting. . . ;)

My biggie that got away was Scott.  Scotty.  I was 19, he 22.  He was only the third person i had ever been out with on a date, and my second boyfriend.  I was in love, and not just a little.  With my mother's "help,' I stood up my grandparents for Christmas and we spent it with Scott's family.  He gave me a gold coin bracelet.  I was moved beyond words.  When we left that evening, i remember crying - bawling - because i was so overwhelmed with my love for him.  On Valentine's Day he proposed to me in his living room with his mom there.  Of course, i said yes. 

But things started getting weird. One evening in April we took a break from moving him to a new apartment.  He asked what i wanted to do, and thinking that he meant for the rest of the evening, i replied that i didn't care.  He suggested that he call me in a couple of weeks.  I was stunned.  I sarcastically asked if he wanted his ring back and he said yes.  I left in a daze.  I made it 2 blocks before i pulled over and sobbed.  As the days and weeks went by, i wanted to kill myself.  I became obsessed with cemeteries, and where I should be buried.  Why this didn't concern my mother, i have no idea.

The events of the night have permanently stained my perspective. I still rack my brain to figure out what i did wrong, what signal i missed, how i couldve been more clear about my feelings.  Anything.  I beat myself up, convinced that something is inherently wrong with me.  And it carries over to my dating, even today.  I've had 2 more people just leave for no apparent reason.  I feel immense stress about not pressuring someone, trying to be myself, all the while look for clues.

So why do i mention all this now? Because he is back in my life.  And believe it or not, i love him just as much 22 years later as I did on that Christmas night.  I still have to catch my breath when i think of him.  I'm not saying that I've never loved anyone else, but I am saying that I've never loved anyone like i love him.  And I'm so scared that history will repeat itself - again.

He says he loves me, that his feelings have never changed. I eventually (3rd visit) asked what happened way back then.  He seemed very sad.  He said his parents were very controlling (don't i understand!), and pressured him to end the relationship.  so what can possible go wrong?  I'll tell you - he's married.

He says he has already been planning for about 5 years how to leave her.  She has lied to him and ruined them financially.  I believe him.

I feel like such a hypocrite.  HE"S MARRIED.  IVE KISSED HIM.  I'm so conflicted. Not confused, conflicted.  This is what I've wanted for 22 years.  And yet, i don't really have him.  And I'm scared to death.  Scared he won't really leave her.  Scared that when he does, he'll like his freedom and not follow through on marrying me.  Scared I'll get so depressed that i cant function.  I don't think i can live through it a second time.  I know that sounds so melodramatic, but it's really how i feel.

Suddenly Sundays are bad.  He calls me everyday, except Sunday.  And Sunday i barely hear from him.  Is he just busy with church?  Is his family around more? Do they have family time, and is it good?  ugh.  i disgust myself.  And yet, I still want it.

He says he needs to wait a year.  I don't know if i can wait a year.  On the other hand, I've waited 22 years, whats one  more?

Will write more later. . .