For the second time
I don't know whether to count myself lucky or consider myself cursed after having lost such an amazing woman for the second time in my life. Most people don't get a second chance, so I suppose I should consider myself lucky. I don't feel very lucky.
The sting of the first time's rejection propelled me into the worst relationship of my life. I have to be careful that the same thing doesn't happen again. It would be a tragedy I cannot afford at this point in my life.
I've learned a few things about myself after being (seemingly) rejected by the same woman twice. We all have a script we use to get through life. If our script never changes, we tend to make the same mistakes repeatedly, regardless of the characters or scenery. That's why we choose the same types of people to populate our lives. Even though the faces and names change, the results are the same. I've learned that my script is deeply flawed and that it's extremely hard to change your script late in life, especially concerning matters of the heart.
Well, I've thrown my script away.
Part of healing involves dissecting those big moments in your life that went awry. Let's take a look at these two rejections to see what we can learn. I know she'd disagree with me that I was, indeed, rejected, but for the sake of argument, let's call it that. That's how I saw it at the time.
Looking back on the first time I had a relationship with this girl (which I think was mostly in my head), I see I had made a series of dreadful mistakes that led to her eventually breaking it off with me. I don't remember her telling me she had fallen in love with her boyfriend, but I do remember our last telephone conversation. That's what I keep going back to because at the time I remember thinking, "That's the last time I'm going to talk to her, isn't it?" I don't know what else we talked about, but I remember her losing her temper at me after I had revealed something vulnerable about myself. Was it the fact that I felt lonely? Was I just calling myself a loser? I don't remember, but I remember thinking that I didn't know how to be in a relationship with someone if I couldn't be vulnerable sometimes. It could be that she simply found it annoying that this was what I chose to talk about. Or maybe she had already moved on. Or something else, perhaps. No matter the reason, it was clear we had come to a roadblock. It would be another eight months or so before I received her letter telling me she loved me and was saying goodbye (as I was leaving town).
Considering how hazy, partial, and truncated my memories are, it's hard for me to believe this was truly our last conversation. But, that's how I remember it. There was no mention of her boyfriend as I recall. I assumed she was dating other boys, though I had no proof of that. I do know for sure her boyfriend knew I existed, having pieced together facts from those years. If he picked her up from hanging out with me, then he surely knew I existed.
She had ended our relationship, in any case. She had chosen this other man who would become her husband. I do not blame her for this in any way. If anyone deserves blame, it's me, as I was not clear with her about my intentions. I just wasn't in a hurry, and by the time I realized it, it was too late.
Without getting into the emotional ramifications for us or the way our lives would play out, let's turn to the second and final rejection. I don't believe my emotional vulnerability came into play during the second rejection. As far as I know, she accepted the fact that I have emotions (especially during a particularly difficult period of my life). I admit that not everyone can stomach a man's emotions, so I appreciated the fact that I could talk to her about them freely. I haven't always been so free with my feelings, but I've come to believe it's a necessary part that needs attention just like the rest of me. Sometimes things are messy. Right now my life is messy, and my emotions are messy too. If I couldn't express my feelings, I would never get anywhere as a human being.
The second rejection is much more complex than the first. We started talking again and realized we shared many things like relationship history and personal beliefs. We also realized that we were quickly becoming involved. There was pushback from both of us, as we wrestled with moral and other fallout. It became apparent I would have to let her go, and I did (for the most part). I wanted to keep talking to her. She needed space. She needed my silence. After more than a year of her pushing back on me, I simply gave up. I had wantonly disrespected her needs, and I felt terrible about that. I wanted a clear-cut answer from her about us when she was spinning inside a world of hurt. Really, I just wanted her to stick to the script and reject me again. I needed that, in fact, because it was the only thing that made sense to me.
The whole thing was laughable that I could be with her. So delusional. It was delusional the first time. The second time it was insanity. What I felt about her the first time – the fact that she was too good for me – was exponentially amplified the second time. I wanted her to reject me. Without that, the world would cease to make sense. I would tumble headlong into a morass of confusion if she kept me in her life.
It's hard when someone breaks your heart. Even harder when you finally see their point. The thing that ties these two rejections together is the fact that I could see her point. I see that I was the weaker choice both times. I accept that, and I accept losing her both times. I will be a graceful runner-up. I also accept the fact that she had a better life without me than she would have with me.
What further complicates matters is how much I have prayed about this second rejection. At no time did God ever tell me to let her go. At no time did He tell me that I should move on. At no point did He say I was indeed rejected and here's my next step. Everything I was hearing from God (shockingly) went against my script. As much as I have begged for closure, I'm simply fascinated by this situation. And, I love God too much to disobey Him, which would be disastrous at this late point in my life. As badly as I want to adhere to my script, I also realize it won't be possible. Still, I must say goodbye to whatever it was we had.
Having these moments of aloneness has taught me to look beyond my previously penciled-in notions about what happened to us and why. So many of my memories are incomplete, so it's hard to trust what I'm pretty sure I remember. It's possible I've simply reached the end of the long road of searching for answers. I remember what I remember; she remembers what she remembers, and sometimes they are not the same. I do know this: she made the right decision and the most respectful decision both times to put an end to our relationship. From every angle and from every person's perspective it made sense. If I have ever blamed her for any of this, I no longer do. Not only that, but I have now come to the conclusion that she made the right decision of who to spend the rest of her life with. She did right by him, but he did not do right by her in the end. None of these problems can be traced back to her; it's all the work of other people. For my own mistakes concerning her, I'm inexhaustibly sorry. I'll be sorry until the day I die.
This drama in my heart is coming to a close. I've made peace with this woman and our past. I've made peace with the man she chose to be with. Most importantly, I've made peace with myself and my mistakes. Events happened the best way they could have considering the circumstances. It's easy to see I wouldn't have been half the man he was to her. Had it not been for his zipper problem, this wouldn't even be a discussion. Even the best of men have their failures. I'm sorry his had to be such a big deal.
The time that I've had to be alone and think has done wonders for things that have bothered me for years, decades even. Having this kind of closure has been priceless. As I go forward, I go with a greater understanding of myself and those around me. I have a renewed confidence, a confidence not borne of myself but rather from the new script that has been laid in my hands. Although I missed out on what could have been a wonderful life with the girl of my dreams, it's easy to see she didn't miss out on anything with me. I was right in my original assessment of her those many years ago: she's too good for me.
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