I had promised romance (and psychiatric hospitals) in the
first post, so here they are. It was a strange sort of relationship. Long distance. But not exactly an open relationship because, well, we didn't try to date other people during it; at least I didn't- was having enough trouble maintaining this one. So, we called it the "No titles, non derivative," relationship, released of course in the Beta phase (exactly like our dear role model- Google). It was designed in such a way that both of us try it and come off it anytime we liked. But were we, or rather, was I emotionally detached?
I wish.
But I was almost prepared for it, in a way that I wasn't for my previous relationships, okay, relationship. Largely due to this epiphany I had while talking to a friend. (I've had too few... epiphanies I mean, not friends)
He had just split up with someone and feeling very suicidal; into drugs and alcohol and all that good stuff. He had to be hospitalized. I met him there.
"God. I cannot sleep." he said "Like when I close my eyes I see her"
"I can relate." I say "But do you think she thinks of you ever? Has she even called since you've been here?"
"um no"
"Why then should you do it?"
"She must be busy or something." He said (Phew these people)
"Listen mate. You were going to kill yourself for her. If she's too busy to care, I think you should rethink your priorities. "
I am a natural therapist. People just come up to me and start telling me their troubles. And I give them excellent advice. Only problem. I don't follow them myself. This time I listened to what I was saying. Wait, all this is familar. I have been there. Not to the extent of killing myself, certainly. But taking myself too seriously in this relationship that wasn't headed anywhere- from the very beginning. Yep that's me.
She's an excellent person and great fun to be with. However I treasure her more as a friend than a ... yeah I'm rationalizing.
I still to grapple with the why question though. The excuse reason that she gave me was just too frivolous and lame. The previous day I had talked to her on the phone; something we do rarely. Maybe I turned out to be too stupid for her. Or maybe it was my penchant for knock-knock jokes. Perhaps I shared too many of them. Or maybe it was my guitar playing, it must've been too cheesy for her. Or perhaps it was the fact that she's going to this über-cool American University (albeit not very close to me), and she didn't want a long-distance relationship lugging her when she could be meeting other über-cool guys. What I'm trying to understand is of course the meaning of it all and I've subscribed to a half-baked notion that is a combination of all the above factors. Healing is on its way.
I'm like the guy who always comes before the perfect guy (*hint* *hint*). So I hope she'll be happy with Him. Oh, wait. That is the point of the perfect guy right? I hope He will be happy with her... which is more doubtful. (Tongue firmly in cheek)
"If she's gone, I can't go on,
Feeling two foot small...
Hey you got to hide your love away."
-The Beatles
(my ultimate guide to all things amoristic)