He and I were perfect together. But who am I kidding?
In real life, we were actually pretty much in tune with one another. We were really just great together.
We had fun. Everything was so easy. We almost never argued. We explored the most beautiful corners of the world together. We laughed a lot.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, an athlete with a plan. I had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was a dreaming woman.
But when I look back (which we can do in retrospect when it’s over), I can remember times when I knew very well that he was not right for me.
I remember the whisper that I happily ignored and that kept saying, “As good as this is, it’s not the right thing.”
When he left me, I had one of the best experiences of my life – a divine experience that I have never had before: the pouring in of memories of those whispers seemed to say at that moment, “I know you want to fight, but do it not.
Almost six months and loads of new perspectives later, I’d like to say something to my once perfect half:
In the time since we split up, I’ve become a new person a few times … a few times. I know that you and I are not meant to be forever the way I once hoped.
I know my forever human exists out there, my forever partner waiting for me, and I don’t doubt I’ll meet him, but I still think about you all the time. A song on the radio, a picture on my phone, a mention of the sport we both loved, or the places we went, or the beer you like, or the bar we met at, or the city you live in.
I wish I could say bad things about you, but I don’t.
Should I confess something to you? I wish you were the right one. On every new date that I want to pass the time and remind myself of what it feels like to be held on, I wish you were by my side.
I know this feeling will pass. I know that when I meet my Forever Person that I cannot live without, I will not think that way; but now, even though I know with all my heart that we are not meant to be together … I still wish we were together.
It’s hard to tell if it’s because of the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia or the red stains on the red wine glasses I’ve been drinking, but I think that’s probably true for a while after we’ve lost someone we love.
The whole thing is scientifically based: it’s the neurology of addiction and separation. I know this because that’s the kind of thing you learn when your heart is broken and you’re looking for answers but you have had a few glasses of wine too much to study neurology.
I can only say that I know that this is all completely normal. I know that if I get really sad I can coach myself by saying that this is a normal period of grief, that there is no real timeline, and that it is very difficult to lose a relationship with someone that one loves.
I can assure myself that it is normal for me to think about you and miss you, and I can swear to myself that one day I will no longer do that.
But right now I do.
When I’m feeling lonely and I know I need company, I won’t call you, but I wish I could. When something happens and I have to tell someone, I want to tell you.
I think this is just my way of saying that I realize that we are not meant to be; I accepted that almost immediately.
I know you can’t be the person who comes around when I’m lonely. I know that calling you probably wouldn’t do any good.
And even if I know that feeling will pass, even if I know that the “one” is going to knock me over so I’ll never think of you that way again, but right now I do.
And I also learned that knowing something doesn’t mean feeling better right away. I know you are not the one for me, but right now this is not helping me because I really wished it were you.