Some of my past lovers continue to read my blog; others don’t. I understand either way as to why they might want to and why they might not. One of my past lovers who continues to read my blog recently commented to me that I never ended up writing anything about our breakup. He was concerned about what horrid things I might say about him when I finally did. This is mainly for him, so he can see it in print:
I still love you, and I always will. You are an amazing and wonderful man. The woman who is the right woman for you is going to be so blessed to have you. I hate that I am not the right woman for you. I wish I could be. You are so honest, trustworthy, loving, kinky, and passionate. You are almost everything I need and want… except in those few areas where we both know we don’t align. And those were the deal-breakers between us.
I am so grateful to have been your lover, and I am even more thankful that you are remaining my friend. I need you in my life, and I’m glad you have chosen to stay when walking away could be the easier choice. If I had to do it again, I would, even though the pain of our breakup was terrible because we do love each other. The good with you definitely far outweighed the bad. I want every happiness in the world for you, including you being able to find that woman who will be able to fulfill all of your desires.
“I’m never having sex with anyone ever again.”
This was the text I received from one of my lovers letting me know that he was ending our relationship. There was no preface. This was it. He was never having sex again. I was going to be his last partner—ever—even though he was only in his forties.
I have to admit, I was initially a little (ok, a lot) taken back. Like many people, my instinct was to blame myself for what was happening. Was I really so bad of a lover that he would never want to have sex again? I reflected on our relationship. I thought the sex we had was amazing. I couldn’t imagine it wasn’t at least decent for him. He seemed to enjoy it at the time, anyway.
The more I thought about it, I realized that this decision of his had nothing to do with me or the sex we had shared. What it actually was rooted in was his own personal problems. He was suffering from a challenge to his mental health, and the way it was manifesting was by shutting me and all other women out of his future.
I sent as gentle of a reply as I could despite my personal emotional pain: I told him that I was sorry the sex was that horrible for him because it wasn’t for me. He was able to respond to me that the sex wasn’t bad, and gradually the full story behind his decision came out. The reasons behind his decision were logical, though it’s still not the choice I think I would have made in the same situation.
In certain ways, he was one of the best lovers I’ve ever had, but right now, he can’t be with me or any woman. I hope that one day he is able to work through the issues he’s currently struggling with because him remaining celibate for the rest of his life is a true loss for both him and his potential future lovers.
Once again, my heart is breaking because this is how I rumble. I open myself fully without realizing I’m doing it. I fall head over heels for a guy and don’t know I have given my heart to him. I try to convince myself it’s nothing. But it’s something, and it’s always something major.
I don’t understand why my heart engages like that. Why do I have so much love to give? Why could I not love the one and only man in my dating career who has loved me the way I want to be loved?
My heart seems to jump in first, followed somewhat rapidly by my hormones. My head always clicks in a few days or weeks after when I needed it to actually be the voice of reason.
And so, once again, I’m left with a shattered heart and a desire never to love again.
It will pass, but in the meantime, it sucks.
Pass me the Kleenex, the chococlate and the wine, y’all.