Someday I hope to be in a relationship where we can openly discuss what I want, what he wants, what is making us unhappy, and what we can do to fix any issues. The question is whether that is something the Boyfriend wants -- with me -- and whether I can get over the breakup if the answer is no.
I can't get the Boyfriend out of my mind. One minute we were having a seemingly good time -- sure, there was trouble on the horizon, but it was nothing that couldn't be worked out in a discussion -- the next thing our relationship, which we both worked so hard to build, is over. And the Boyfriend is making it so clear he doesn't want to be with me by walking out during a snowstorm.
The part of me that craves communication wonders if I should give up any hope of there ever being room for open discussions in a relationship, or the possibility of having a dialogue that begins "Hey, this is why I am mad at you and this is why you pissed me off, let's get mad and then let's talk about it and move on," without it turning into the talk, or a breakup.
(Is there such a guy willing to put his heart on the line and speak his mind, and let me do the same, out there?)
Until I find the answer, or the guy, I look back on the men I've dated and been attracted to over the years and discover a troubling pattern: Each has been ambitious, successful in some way, a challenge in his own right, on the attractive side, and despite having a nice-guy image, imbued with a streak of bad.
A friend questions why I would continue to fall for the same sort of men, ones who are more similar to me than not. Two strong heads are not going to work together, she warns me. "In the end, who is going to protect you? Who is going to be with you in good times and bad times?" she asks. "You would do that for the Boyfriend, but it is clear that he would not do the same for you," she reminds me.
Another friend tells me to stop analyzing things. "No matter what you did, the person walked out on you. That is the bottom line and the sooner you accept it the sooner you will accept that he clearly did not want to be with you," my friend says. Reality bites.
Yet I continue to slip back into thinking back to the good times I shared with the Boyfriend.
I used to wait and wait for his arrival, one of the things I looked forward to when I was still deep in us.
But maybe I didn't mean as much as I thought. Was I one of the things he waited and waited for?
Level of tolerance differs with level of interest. I've come to accept that my acceptance of a person doesn't mean they can accept me, or even allow me the time to change things.
In the meantime, as I walk my way further into this confessional booth, admitting what I must -- that I am too pushy, that at times I move too quickly, but I am also very adaptable and aware of what I need to work on, and that in the end I would change only for myself and for no one else -- there is still the promise of another day.
In the past week I've slept better, had a few good dreams, enjoyed a bit of sun-basking in Gotham... But springtime in New York only reminds me that the timing of this breakup is cruel. It's my unfulfilled love story, banked on a promise and a hope, both now a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, as the decision to move forward together wasn't in my hands.
Oh, the Boyfriend is still moving and will be closer to where I live, but things are different now, and I question whether or not things could be the same.
I would love to have a discussion that starts with, "This is why I was mad at you," and explain why and how things can be different, but right now that discussion is not my hands. So I eat, hope, and pray, just like the title of the bestselling book.