My Partner Went Back to His Ex — With My Blessing

Ifigured that my first post after this involuntary hiatus of mine would shine with positivity and joy. That I’d share the 5 Lessons I Learned While Being Happy. That I’d type this with a smile on my face.

In reality, my tears have barely dried.

But let’s rewind.

…

Six months ago, I met someone online who intrigued me. When we met in person, we clicked incredibly well and I, who had been single for the majority of their 29 years on this planet, found out what it means to fall in love.

The most amazing thing is that he feels the same.

Things between us have always been easy, at least after I decided to go all-in and follow where my heart is nudging me. We share a lot — values, principles, personal limits. We even have accounts with the same two banks. We clash, too, but always in a very mature manner.

And we’re both fine if the other sleeps with people outside our relationship.

Enter his ex.

…

See, a few months before he and I met, his then-girlfriend went from happy to harpy within a day, kicking him out after screaming.

They had spent a lovely Christmas, then the next day it was all over and he had no idea why. He never expected to hear from her again.

Then, three days ago, he receives an email.

She wants to meet up, she says, and would have called but she deleted his number. He told me immediately, sounding as surprised as I felt given the backstory. I encouraged him to call — maybe she wants to apologize?

She did.

Apologize and explain.

My partner understands what happened a lot better now, and regardless of where this might lead, I’m glad he has received something like closure. He stayed for hours, longer than expected and I found, to my relief, that all I was worried about was something happening to him. If they had kissed, or slept together? Fine by me. We have an open relationship and fun is fun, even with his ex. I trust him enough to know not to worry.

When he finally returns, he’s obviously relieved. Like a weight was lifted off his shoulders that I’ve never seen him without.

He invited her over to our place (since yes, we moved in together after only a few months), and I genuinely hoped to meet her.

Then came day two.

…

She texts him that she wants to talk. We’re busy fetching the rest of his stuff from his old sublet, but then he calls her.

He starts in the living room, where I can hear clearly, yet slowly disappears into the bedroom. Closes the door.

I tilt my head, fighting the urge to eveasdrop. He will tell me later anyway.

When he emerges, his eyes are red.

“What happened?” I ask.

“She doesn’t want any contact,” he manages. “Says she feels like she’s intruding on our relationship.”

She also revealed that she’s thinking about dating again. I read between the lines loud and clear who she had envisioned as her partner, only to find him already in a relationship. Contrary to me, she doesn’t share well.

I’ve never seen him distraught, and I’m at a loss. What does he need? How can I be there for him?

I go for a hug. Ask him what he needs. He proceeds to put up two of our remaining lamps.

It’s great timing, then, that I am due to leave for a movie date with one of my best friends. He declines both my invite and my offer to stay and keep him company, and when I return it seems the solitude did him good.

He grieves alone, I learn. It is a loss, after all: They were together for three years, had known each other 13 by the time it ended, and now that he finally has her back in his life — she vanishes again.

I’m afraid it gets worse, though. Way worse.

…

I’ve been feeling weird all day. My partner is subdued, which is probably part feelings, part lack of sleep from his night shift. He heads to the bedroom for a nap and I dive back into my list of assignments.

He emerges two hours later.

“Well rested?”

“Not really,” he says.

That’s when I notice the tears in his eyes.

“She called,” he tells me, “completely drunk. And… She told me she was pregnant from me when we were together and she lost the baby.”

Oh shit.

My stomach drops.

“Do you need to go to her?” I ask.

He says he won’t find someone this late to cover his nightshift, but I encourage him to try. As he sits there to call his colleague, I put my arms around him lightly. I don’t want to crowd him but I also want him to know I’m there.

On the phone, he admits that “his girlfriend lost their baby” and tears roll down his cheeks.

I’m conflicted. Him calling her his ‘girlfriend’ rather than ‘ex’ stings. Yet at the same time, there’s no way he’s thinking straight. Or thinking of me. Nor should he — a bomb just went off in his life and he’s struggling to see anything except the immediate next step.

His team leader tells him it’s fine, they’ll manage, and he’s out of the chair whiping his eyes immediately.

I offer to drive him, since I’m not sure he’s fit to be behind the wheel of a car or on top of a bike.

“I’m good to drive,” he says, and I only follow up once before conceeding.

Mostly because I can’t fight the tears anymore. I might not know her personally, but losing a child is nothing any person should have to go through. Just like learning about your unborn child’s death years after the fact.

“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” he says.

I shake my head. “Take the time you need. And I’m there if you need anything.”

He nods. Steps close and takes my face in his hands, then kisses me in a way I can’t remember him doing before.

I wave one last time as the elevator doors close at the end of the hallway, then burst into tears as soon as I’m back in our flat.

…

Part of me is disgusted by my own feelings. Underneath all that empathy and compassion is a voice that wants to know why the first time I see him cry is over another (ex-)partner.

The voice tells me that I should have known he’s still in love with her. Three years or 13 don’t vanish without leaving a mark.

The voice laughs as I drown in uncertainty.

I despise how much power my ego still wields over me, even though I know it’s ridiculous to expect someone to only love one person at a time. I’ve always been pro poly, i.e. relationships between more than two people. I dream of having a tribe, a chosen family, of people I care about.

Guess this situation might be easier if we were in a triad.

We’re not, though. He’s with his ex trying to make sense of all this, while I’m typing this.

I’m not worried. My vivid imagination even envisions a future where his ex has a baby from him and we’re a lovely patchwork family.

But my walls aren’t secure yet, either.

It’s a metaphor my sister-in-spirit used when I poured my heart out to her shortly after he had left: The longer you are together with someone, the stronger your walls get, the more you know the other person loves you and nothing will make you doubt that.

My walls are still growing. So of course I’ll be overwhelmed by emotions in a situation like this, even though my principles are clear on the matter.

I don’t have an answer to this yet. It’s almost midnight and I’ll try to catch some sleep.

…

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.

When I wake up, I have a message from him. Sent around 6am, saying that he’ll return home after dropping her off at work.

… wait, work?

Nevermind. I’m just glad he’s taken the time they need and will be back soon.

When he walks through the door, he seems tired, but content.

“I learned more about her in the past few hours than I did in the past six years,” he says. It’s good that they talked. Way overdue.

“Will you keep in contact?” I ask.

He doesn’t know. Even says he’d like that. I desperately hope for him to get his wish — but I also know being in a very dark place and isolating myself from people who can help, like she seems to be.

Only time will tell, unfortunately.

By the end of the day, after spending a lot of time with him and recognizing that the past 24 hours have deepened our relationship considerably, I find myself smiling.

It might not be the 5 Lessons I Learned While Being Happy, but I’m sharing it regardless.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

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