Sometimes I hate how certain you seem of what is good for me and what is not. I know it comes from a place of love (I know just how much you love me and you know I much I do you) but sometimes, sometimes my rage burns bright and roars at the thought of you. It burns so much that my chest feels like it’s been scorched in acid and it hurts.
It hurts because after you’ve given your advice and we’ve finished our food and our dawdling over dessert and wine, you will go home. You will go home to your bed. You will go to your home, to your bed, and it will not be empty – your better half, your spouse, your girlfriend, your partner… she’ll be there. Waiting for you.
And I will go home. To my bed. Alone. And it will stay that way; it will stay empty.
So, it’s hard to hear you ask me “why stay friends?” or hear you say “it’s done, of course, you’ve ceased communications” or receive from you “just ignore her, she’ll go away” or, worst of all, “you don’t need anymore friends”. I’m sorry, but that can’t all be right. I must need something. I must because I can’t just hang out with you and all the other couples and the marrieds and at the end of each evening retreat home by myself and meet someone else, can I?
CAN I? [Answer me that, why don’t you – will your response be quick and firm and definitive? Will it be witty and trite and clever? Will it be useful?]
This too, as all things do, shall pass. My temper towards you will fade – to be honest, it already has, it was a passing thing, like a summer storm, mighty for all of ten seconds, windy and wet for mere moments in the grand schema. And the truth is I don’t mind the quiet, all the time, at home. The peacefulness; the silence; the time to think and the time to read, the time to go back to the things which made me.
No, the hurt will fade, the hurt from her and the hurt from you.
But, no, right now, this is not easy. You come from a place of love but darling, you have not made it easy because even if you are right, or mostly right, I know you’ve forgotten how it was on the receiving end. As you should (because if you don’t forget you can’t move on and so you’ve done all of the right things). But, regardless, you’ve forgotten, and so right now the only person hurting me isn’t her, it’s you.