Last weekend was a little difficult to say the least. After writing my blog about January 6th, I was contacted by the very man I wrote about. I had blocked his number in my phone. I had blocked his email from my inboxes. There was a reason I had done that. And here he had the audacity to reach out…with a new number. Men…ugh.
I contacted a mutual friend and asked her opinion. She, with her big heart, encouraged me to allow him to write to me, perhaps allowing old wounds to heal. This is absolutely the year to heal my heart. That’s become very apparent, regardless of what I wanted it to be. So…I allowed it.
He wrote me a beautiful email, not unlike the hundreds he had written before. It was filled with positive words and encouragement about my progress in the most important parts of my life…my soul’s life. He knows how to get to me because he knows me better than any other man ever has…and likely will. And that’s okay, I guess. He spoke a language that made sense to me. But he was dangerous. And I didn’t find that out until too late.
As I read his words, instead of getting angry, my heart felt, again, the love that I had felt from him. It was a wise, kind, and mature love. It was passionate and filled with curiosity. Never before had I felt like someone wanted to know me as he did. To him, I was beautiful. I wasn’t selfish and self-centered as my husband had said. I wasn’t crazy either (compliments of my ex as well). It was complex and interesting. And in his words last week, I still was. I love being interesting. Weird…but it’s kind of a “thing”.
He was a man I had worked with, giving perhaps thousands of hours of myself to. My creativity and mind were useful and valued. It was quite an experience. And I loved it. Every damn minute of it.
But, his love was conditional. The kind of love he wanted from me wasn’t the kind of love he would be able to offer in return. I was single. He wasn’t. And that never changed.
According to his email, “we weren’t prepared to take the step into the beautiful unknown…the kind of love we were being called into”.
Bullshit.
I had been. He was just too comfortable with his life…and his wife.
It took that email to remind me of the dream I was missing. But it took that email to remind me that indeed, it was a dream. And a dream only.
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You see, the grand lesson learned from my experience with him was not about the dream of love, unconditional and shared. It was not about creating a life together that I wanted more than anything. I was even willing to compromise my ethics around my parenting. I was willing to do the unthinkable to have him. But the lesson was not about that.
The lesson I learned was that I have a blind spot. I have a blind spot for men who say all the right words and make me feel special. I have a blind spot for men who have the look in their eye that tells me I’m the kind of beautiful that makes their world go ‘round. I have a blind spot for feigned wisdom and philosophers.
And I’m not just a little ashamed of that blindness.
I also learned that these kinds of men are jealousy-driven and entitled. Their “love” is conditional. The chase is exciting to them. But once they “land” you, they “own” you. But you don’t know that until you try to leave them. Then it’s the “If I can’t have you, then I’ll take everything from you that I can” thing. And he did.
One particularly soft moment I had, post-email, I called my sister-in-law. I told her about the email, its contents, and its effect on me. She, wisely, laid into me.
“Don’t you remember what he did to you? That he promised he’d leave his wife…and he didn’t. He promised, for years, to pay you a stable income…and he never did. He promised that he’d take care of you…and he didn’t? And then when you decided that you’d not be able to keep up the personal piece of your relationship, that he backed out of it all? He pushed you out of the company that you had helped him build. He pushed you out of all of the circles of people you taught, mentored, befriended, and loved? He took away your contacts and left you with nothing but the name of a company that YOU created! Then, you had to get a lawyer to get any money at all out of him. And what did you get? A lousy 4K…two months of what he’d promised you years of. He is the reason you are in the situation you are in. He is the reason you had to leave your farm. He is the reason you couldn’t get a different lawyer and have a fair divorce. If you have any pride at all. Tell him to Fuck Off!”
Yeah…it’s a pretty big blind spot. I hear ya.
So again, I am reminded that my “need” for validation has not been quenched. I’ve not found a way to care for that part of myself, alone. The experience of getting his email was the reminder I needed that I need to keep working on ME.
I don’t have the luxury of needing anyone like that anymore. It’s something I must pull up from my own roots and stand strong with.
So Farewell, Lover-from-the-past. I won’t soon forget the lessons you taught me, especially this one.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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