That was the moment in which we sat together in our “counselor’s” office after almost an hour until he told both me and the counselor that he “wanted me to respect the boundaries of friendship.” That was pretty damn clear. And for the first time ever, I realized he really couldn’t handle a relationship with me.
Did we become friends, you may wonder? No. In fact, he seemingly decided he wanted nothing to do with me that day, after more than three years of drama. It was an awful day, and one that brings tears to my eyes even now. We did attempt to meet about a month later to talk, but it just didn’t work. I was so infuriated by his betrayal that all I could do was lash out and cry.
Why did I feel betrayed? I guess because he gave me hope by wanting us to get the counseling. He said “he wanted to improve our communication.” Call me crazy, but that seemed like progress. I found out I was wrong.
The only real closure I got from him was from his “relationship eulogy letter” that our counselor had suggested we write to one another, in which the one true thing was the last paragraph.
“I opened my soul to you, and received much wise counsel in return. I will always value that. I will always value the honesty we achieved in sharing of personal vulnerabilities with each other. In my life there has been no other person quite like you. Thank you for all that you were, and all that you are.”
He may as well have added: PS. I love you, but I don’t love you enough to be in an exclusive relationship, so I’m going to completely end all communication now and go fuck my shiny new girlfriend who doesn’t make me face my demons
Many of the followers of this blog are my friends. You guys are the ones who got the most frustrated by my relationship with Tristan. You were the ones who listened to my woeful tales of sorrow and confusion, the ones who saw me bawl my eyes out, drink too much, hole up in my den of solitude and come unglued in more ways than one.The on/off relationship we had was very unhealthy for both he and I. And it was a very confusing and I daresay heart-wrenching time for me.
So why would I still send him messages? Why have I continued to attempt to stay in touch with him over the past year when I know how hard it was?
Because I love him. I miss him. Especially the good times.
No, it doesn’t mean I want to be with him again. I would have to weigh that decision very carefully before going back there. I mean, hell, besides all of the aformentioned issues in our relationship, there is the little fact that he’s almost 70 years old.
Yes. 70. That’s quite the number to a 38-year-old.
Our communication has been 98% one-sided for the past year. I send him emails and/or texts when I am missing him or have something to share with him. Most of the time they are just one-liners. When I moved away from his city, I did get a few responses from him congratulating me on my move. They were basically just shallow words that meant nothing to me.Mostly I have emailed him, with a few texts sprinkled in.
He never replied to any of my texts until last night. I wasn’t expecting him to, but I did genuinely want to know something, so I’m glad he did.
Lola: “Does JB text?”
Tristan: “Nope. Call him.”
Lola: “Okay. Thanks. I’d like to talk to you sometime. If you’re ever over this way, come visit me.”
Tristan: “Thanks. Not quite yet. 🙂 Enjoying my relationship with Jersey.”
Lola: “Okay. If I’m any expert on you, it’ll run it’s course. When that happens, come see me. I’ll probably still be in my same ol parking spot. I know, I know…I’m too young and beautiful to be stunted in my relationships and stuck in the same ol parking spot.”
JB is Tristan’s best friend. He is also the one who cared enough about me to have a sit-down and tell me my job was to straighten Tristan out. Last night I was simply going to ask JB if he thought Tristan was happy with his new woman, if he was happy in general, I suppose. I had no other plan besides that. But since Tristan replied, I don’t think I need to call JB. I think I got my answer straight from the horse’s mouth.
And what is that answer? His relationship with Jersey has an expiration date, and when it’s over, he’ll come see me. I may or may not be here.
Jackson has invited me down to visit him this weekend, and I’m going.