How do you quit somebody? Or somebodies?
In my last post, I lamented losing a boyfriend. However, that's not quite what I lost. Instead, it was two boyfriends.
Somehow, someway, without notice and without seeking it, I fell in love with a gay couple. And they with me. And it was good.
So good that I got lost in love all over again, and this time twice as bad because there were two guys. I wouldn't have gone seeking this, but I cannot help who I love, and I was willing to explore it. Unfortunately, we did not all see eye-to-eye on the future and on sacrifices and on supporting one another. And it was over.
On the breakup alone I could write and write and write, which I have in my journal.
My thoughts today revolve around a complete inability to move on. I still want them. I suspect one of the two guys also wants to continue, but dude #3 has closed the door in his mind. He has moved on. So the two guys are back together, but I am out there on my own.
We continue to communicate regularly because once I commit to something (and in this
case, I committed some extraordinary energy to making this relationship work), I stick with it. My word is everything. In my head, I continue to hope that we will come back together. I continue to dream about this great future in which the 3 of us tackle life, just like we said we would. I continue to honor the promise we made that we would not leave each other alone, that there would be no distance between us.
Yet on this very day, I am alone and without them. And they are on a vacation, without me.
"I wish I knew how to quit you."
I want to shout it from the top of my lungs. I want to cut off all ties and communications and scream aloud how wrong this is that I am alone again. I want to be angry, and then in the very next moment, I melt with memories of the triad we were and the tenderness that existed between us.
They brought some amazing things out of me, and I rose up out of a depression during our relationship. People who barely knew me asked why I was so bubbly and positive. Life decisions that had confounded me for years were starting to come together. A chance for a new career, a chance for a new place to live, a chance to receive love, a chance to shower my love onto two other people. Amazing stuff.
The affection, the fun, the exploration, the positivity, the companionship...ah, the companionship. It was more than I ever thought I deserved. So perhaps I fulfilled my own prophecy.
I cannot give up hope that we can get back together. Yet there is no evidence that we can ever be together. Dude #3 is not in favor of getting back together, and this is not a majority rules situation. We need 3 YES votes to continue forward.
Bad as the situation looks, I keep thinking about how great things could have been, and how crappy they have been since. And although there is so little hope for us to be together--to be a true Modern Family--I keep clinging to that virtually non-existent sliver of a promise of a chance that we can reconcile. I knew who I was when that relationship was great, and I loved me then. I know who I am now, and I like it a lot less.
So we keep talking, and I keep looking for clues that we can get back together. I hope we can experience a miracle of rekindling that great relationship. Yet it's not going to happen. In my head I know it; in my heart I refuse to admit defeat.
And so I torture myself. Continuing to stay in touch, hoping we can make it happen. I get a little hope up, then it goes away again. It's like tearing a bandage off my skin slowly, repeatedly, and experiencing the pain over and over. My friends all way, "Haven't you broken up with these guys 4 times by now?" In my mind, I have, because I catch a glimmer of hope and then I am crushed all over again when it doesn't happen.
I had dinner with them last week. I counted the hours and minutes until I could see them. Now they are on vacation for a week, and we have no way to communicate. It's crushing me; I wonder if they even remember me.
I wish I knew how to quit them.