It wasn’t anything that should have meant anything to me.
A random comment made on a Facebook page that wasn’t even his (because the truth is – the man doesn’t even have the internet at his house and couldn't be less interested in Facebook). It wasn’t even about him. At least, not directly.
But the minute I saw it, I knew.
I just knew.
The ex had moved on. Found someone else. Possibly even fallen in love.
And my heart sank. In a way I had never really expected it would.
After all, I had moved on. Hadn’t I? I’m the one who told him to lose my number those 4 months ago. I’m the one who proclaimed that we couldn’t keep hurting each other. That the cycle we had been in for the last 2 years wasn’t healthy. That it needed to end.
I’m the one who drew the line in the sand.
And then I’m the one who dated first. Who let someone else in. Who felt butterflies for someone other than the man who had been giving them to me since the day we had met.
I’m the one who chose this path.
So why should his moving on sting so badly?
In part, I think it was the not knowing. This all happened Tuesday night, and I sat staring at my computer screen for over an hour trying to determine if I was misinterpreting what I was reading. I attempted a little cyber stalking (in search of only clues), but getting any real kind of details from an endeavor like that is next to impossible when you’re talking about a man who spurns technology at every turn.
A man who truly is above it all in terms of internet communication.
One who actually would rather sit down face to face with his friends and a beer over tweeting with them, or writing on their walls, or posting on their blogs.
The thing that I had always kind of admired about him (and a trait I had even envied - since clearly I lack the same distaste for social networking), was the thing that was going to bite me in the butt in terms of finding out the details I desperately needed.
And so, I sat on it. Letting it eat away at me. The wondering. The worrying.
The weight of the uknown.
I toyed with the idea of asking him myself. Breaking the code of silence and crossing that line, if only to find there was no longer a line even available to cross.
But, I stopped myself short of that. Knowing a conversation like that couldn't have too many good possible outcomes.
Still… I had to know.
So last night, I broke down. I called his sister. Something I had been avoiding doing at all costs. I care about this family deeply, and really have tried over the last several months to keep my relationships with them separate from my lack of a relationship with him. I’ve never wanted any of them to think that I was only maintaining ties with them in order to keep tabs on him, because nothing could be further from the truth.
But in this instance, I felt like I had no other choice.
And so a few minutes into our conversation, I paused and said “I have something to ask you. And I’m pretty sure it’s entirely inappropriate of me to even ask at all, but… I just have to know.”
She must have been expecting it. On some level, she must have known this question would come eventually. Because as soon as I asked, she gave me as honest an answer as she could possibly manage.
Yes, he is seeing someone. Yes, it is exclusive. But beyond that, she didn’t know much. She hadn’t yet met this woman, and only knew the slightest of details. Just enough to be able to tell me that I hadn’t misinterpreted what I'd seen.
And my heart sank some more. Thanking her profusely for her honesty, I got off the phone shortly thereafter. Not wanting to burden her with my hurt feelings over something that really wasn’t anyone’s fault.
He’s moved on. And my sadness over that fact has surprised me. I’ve known all along that he’s been dating. That there have been multiple women.
But… I’ve also known that none of them had been able to break the same barriers I had. I’ve known that none of them could take my place in his heart.
And so, while I haven’t exactly liked the revolving door of women I’ve heard about through the grapevine of this small town… I haven’t really been overly bothered by it either.
But now, with this woman, there is something real.
And I can’t help but wonder if it rivals what we once had.
Is she getting the man I fell in love with once upon a time? The one who used to call me every night we weren't together. Talking for hours about the stupidest of subjects. The one who nervously waited weeks to kiss me for the first time, until we were at a point where I honestly found myself wondering if it was ever going to happen at all. The one who used to grab my hand and hold it no matter where we were or what we were doing. The one who proudly introduced me to his family from the very start. The one who was so sure of what we were meant to mean to each other.
Is she getting him? Because as much as I have missed that man (the one who was taken over by another who simply could not forgive the past), I’m not sure how I feel about someone else getting him.
I think I thought that if he ever decided to go back to being that man, I would be the first call he would make.
And now I’m realizing… that’s not exactly true.
I am fine though. No tears have been shed. No glasses broken. No profanities shouted out towards the sky.
I am fine. I will be fine. I will continue moving forward and dating and seeking out my own bliss.
Searching for the man I called for just a few weeks ago.
The reality of the situation is, I really do want him to be happy. I really do want him to find love.
Even if it isn’t me that makes him happy anymore. Even if it isn’t me that he loves anymore.
I want him to be happy.
And I know I’ll find my happiness as well.
This is just a blip on the radar of moving on. Just one more step that had to be taken.
I can be a grown up about this. I can accept it as just another nail in the coffin of us.
And I can be happy for him.
That is of course, unless he knocks her up.
In that case, I reserve the right to stamp my feet, shout out to the heavens, and kidnap their child.
Which I think would only be fair given the circumstances.
ADSPACE
