I learned a shit ton this evening. I read his message at a marketing event this evening.
My lungs longed to collapse. Minutes that were languid and onerous turned into painful seconds; a thousand needles penetrated my skin as each one passed.
1, a thousand needles
2, a thousand needles
3, a thousand needles
4, a thousand needles
I doubted if I could survive five more minutes. Undeniably, thirty minutes would consume me.
I could imagine how one’s mind could become psychotic.
The message was not dramatic. Not mean. It was simple and perhaps, my above reaction unwarranted. However, the danger was in its subtlety. I knew. And I was right.
“I am a really bad partner until I finish my divorce. I truly apologize for that.
We need to sit down and talk. I really, really appreciated your effort to have a light and joyful relationship on Sunday and yesterday. I know it was a big effort for you and I really enjoyed it. However, I know you have feelings and I have not been dealing with them and we need to understand if what I can do at the moment makes you happy.”
Let’s stop here and just talk in person! I like you too much to risk another misunderstanding.”
Like? What happened to all of the “loves” . . the “love you’s” I never trusted?
I pressed for a phone call. He refused to speak about the above. “I don’t like speaking on the phone. Let’s speak in person.” I prodded. He’s away through next week and I refused to be left questioning, miserable, broken. Suspended in a relationship with someone who was already emotionally gone.
I’m not sure how I succeeded but I did. And this is what I learned:
- My being open, light, and passionately sexual, ironically, made him realize how much of an ass he is. Giving him what we wanted forced him to admit he could not do the same. His first admission to his not being loving.
Sunday was an amazing emotionally feat for me. I will expand in a separate post, but I have Esther Perel “Mating in Captivity” and my mother to thank. They allowed me to change my perspective and put aside the hurt, the longing for intimacy, connection, etc. We were that jealousy-inducing couple at Perry Street. The couple cab drivers hate. The evening was as passionate as when we first met, if not more.
I left. Refused to spend the night. He wrote that I was the guy, he the girl. I felt in control. Safe, happy, and open. Monday Night – repeat.
What was unexpected was his reaction. My actions changed him. My physical actions drew the parallel to the lack of commitment and emotional intimacy. I am not sure if this is in opposition to “Mating in Captivity” to which I so resonate . . but illuminating nonetheless.
To be continued . .