Letting Go

Dear Alex

You were the first person back in 2003 to make me feel what it was like to love someone.  Everything before that was just infatuation, a childish crush.  I knew it immediately, that electric moment, you made me smitten and I felt light and giddy. But in the same instant, I knew you were meant for better things, way better women.  I still wanted you though, that small hopeful glimmer stayed in me even though I should have known so much better.

I found out across the following months about your history of beautiful women, and the many many many that overlapped. They knew about it but they kept coming back for more.  I was your junkie.  Just being near you, hearing about you, knowing things about you, was intoxicating.  

When we kissed, we were both drunk, but you told me I was beautiful.  I couldn't believe it! You. With me!  Me with you!! All those movies, maybe I could be that transformed little girl who gets the man who turns her into a woman.  The next morning, I found out you were beating yourself up for it, for the mistake.  Ah. Reality.  I told myself to never let myself fall again that way.  I didn't listen though.

The rest of that summer, I felt more and more love, and pushed it further and further down.  I pushed you to her. You guys were great together.  When I found out you had slept together (twice), I felt a little sick.  When she left, I thought you'd follow her. You didn't but I left town anyway.  Being in the same city, and knowing we wouldn't see each other killed me. Being away meant I could pretend it was only because I was out of town, not that we were completely wrong for each other.

Over the years, we stayed in touch.  You kept my hope going. Each contact a blip, my heart racing.  Kisses and groping here and there. On the train once. So close.  I found out you were doing the rounds though, a last date with every girl that meant a little something to you before you moved overseas for good. I was number 3 in the queue.  But I was in the queue, which was a little exciting. Hey I guess being something was better than the nothing I always thought I was with you.

Several girlfriends later for you, and one fling with your lovely best friend for me (a great guy, but part of the attraction was his connection to you), we ended up in London. Both single.  Those two weeks were exciting, and fun, and just about the best summer non-fling ever.  And this is why I'm writing this letter 7 years later. I still feel like I'm reeling from it.  You were my everything.  I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving so we could pretend it didn't happen, that we could be friends without the heavy awkwardness.  I wonder what would have happened if we pursued something then.  I don't even know if you remember it.  I wish you remembered it.  You kissed me in Sweden a few months later, you held me in bed.  I think you remembered, surely you must have. You were back with her for real by then.

I felt sick when I found out you'd actually got back with your fiancee before we slept together. The day before.  That in her words you were both "the happiest you had ever been", that you'd reaffirmed your love for each other.  I pushed the feelings down, aside, settling itself in my shoulders, to rehash itself over the years, especially when I get an intense massage. Making me think of you and how I'm still alone without you.

You invited me to your wedding.  Two things here. 

First, it was a very small wedding and of your 10 guests, 2 were your family, 3 were your best male friends, and 2 were girls you slept with but never had a proper relationship with.  It felt all kinds of fucked up on paper. But I didn't feel anything at the time. I think I had to be there to see it, to let go and move on. Honestly, part of it was just being in promixity to you even though it was all hopeless. I was trying so hard to not let it show, that all the feelings got buried so deep inside.  

Secondly, the girl you married was girl number 3 from over the summer we were together in London - the one you vaguely mentioned once.  So, there was your ex-fiance, your current fiancee and me that summer.  The one you never acknowledged.  I just didn't know if I meant something or not to you.  Did I ever mean something??

Last month, out of the blue - well not so out of the blue, it has been 4 years since you married - your wife posts a new profile pic on facebook. The first real activity from either of you in a year. She is 8 months pregnant, gloriously luminous, with twins. 

I don't know why it hurt so much, made me feel so sick but it did.  Maybe I still held some hope out that one day you'd realise you loved me too, that you'd declare some great love for me, to forgive you for the years of neglect.  I don't know why finding out about all the other girls, going to your wedding, and all the other stuff didn't hurt as much as this.  I guess because I remember you saying once you didn't want kids and here you are having kids.  Or because it means you won't leave her (more the reason I think). You cheated so many times, part of me thought you might leave and come to me for comfort like you did before. I know it's stupid. Hey, even one extra day with you would be better than nothing. 

I honestly want you to be happy though. She really is right for you.  And man, you will be such a great dad.  They'll be blessed little kids.  I just wish I'd allowed myself to let go of my crazy feelings all those years ago.  I think I have now. I mean, I still love you, but I don't have silly fantasies you'll come back into my life. 

Goodbye Alex. You were wonderful, flaws and all that make you the man you are. Your family is amazing - your mum and dad so warm, no wonder you are the way you are.  You are the bar against which every other man needs to live up to. Miss you always.

H