In another life, I dated someone.
Actually, it was less than a month ago.
Things ended so abruptly, so dramatically, emotionally, that the only way I can continue on with life as a normal human being is by pretending he never existed.
I must say, being a normal human being again is great. But I am forever changed by him, and no matter what I do, despite all my efforts and experiences, he will always be with me. Stashed away in a very dark, very hidden corner, inside a box labeled “Biohazard”, perhaps, but still always there.
That’s a hard concept for me to grasp. A relationship that was so recent, with someone who was such a vital, passionate, integral part of my life for over a year is now a mere memory, long gone like something from my childhood.
And while I continue on with my life and try to not care, thoughts keep bobbing up in my brain like a straw in soda, and I am left with a bitter taste in my mouth. All the special moments, all the “I love you”s, all the memories and every promise are tarnished. Soiled. Defiled. Because of him. I wanted to honor him and our relationship, I couldn’t let our love end in vain. But time and time again, he’s proved himself to be nothing less than destructive, and I refuse to be hurt by him any longer.
My sister put it very nicely. He is a narcissist and a sociopath. Kind people of this earth, do yourself a favor and don’t date sociopaths. Thankfully I have learned this lesson and I am moving the fuck on.
Four weeks single. 160 Tinder matches. An ocean of tears, but my well is drying up. And a few drunk slutty nights that showed me that I can have a damn good time without you, thank you very much, enjoy your miserable life without me motherfucker. And the greatest of friends by my side that I could ever ask for.
So single life has its ups and downs. Many more ups, I can gladly say. But sadness still trickles in, and anger, and hurt, and especially unease when I see his mom pop up on Facebook, secretly hoping for news about him.
I wonder what he’s doing. I wonder what he’s thinking or if he talks about me. The smallest reminders of him can paralyze me and send me back down the rocky road of Memory Lane. But, slowly but surely, I’m thinking about him less. And with every emotion I feel, I remind myself that I honestly would be much more miserable if I were still with him. He is becoming an endangered species in my mind, and one day he will be extinct. RIP First Love.
In the meantime, I have a life to live. I have time to thrive. I have memories to make and money to spend and boys to meet. I have myself to take care of. The best thing he gave me was my freedom back.