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It was in the hay day of my 19-year-old reckless freedom that I met a man who I fell in love with. My love laid dormant until the day I decided to reveal my regrets for leaving, quite prematurely I admit, and my desire to return to the home he cleared out in his heart, all for me. I will refer to him as Mr. W.
Although I left the place, which was where I left him, verbal communication continued on a weekly basis, each conversation lasting at least five hours. This continued for nearly three years. The fourth year was the year that after all of my "fun," I realized what I was truly missing in my life, substance. Mr. W contained so much substance that it was oozing out of his perfectly stitched seams, leaving me to suckle from that sweet nectar, and my goodness how I ravenously craved for more.
The day I confessed my love, he too, revealed something… regrettable. While I was attempting to manifest a magical existence within his, he was falling in love with another. A woman, that he claimed was nothing like me. See, he felt that any girl he met after my departure that exuded an inkling of myself, although he felt initially enthralled, ready for the next me to appear in his life again, he quickly became dissatisfied after some time of realizing that they were not like me at all. I empathize with his feeling of brokenness, and if that cycle continued, surely a life of loneliness would proceed. So, he found someone that would not remind him of my love that he would never receive again. From his mouth he told me this. How hopelessly romantic…which, in part, is why I still love him. It is why I will travel through time and experience my life within his in a paralleled universe where we live happily ever after. I still believe that perhaps, one day we will be together. Like a Jim and Pam storyline from The Office. How hopelessly romantic of me…I miss his sweetness. His most optimistic and encouraging outlook that he exuded every waking moment.
You know the feeling of missing someone’s touch? At the end of those tender thoughts comes a piercing, heart reaching, icy pain, after drunkenly exiting from that haze of a dreamy, luxurious, memory. Yet, you continue to rethink, go over, and pretend to live in those times because it just feels so damn good. I enhance this experience through music that I like to think is the soundtrack of our time together, and now this lucid dream becomes so artificially orgasmic. I simultaneously look around at my present environment and the individuals now in it, in part because of me not choosing to be with him. I, however, would not trade these individuals, nor the deeply invaluable and profound knowledge I have learned from them, not even for the potential of this hopelessly romantic relationship, which brings me to the major point in my pathetically hopeful attachment to this dramatized fantasy of mine. It is something that may seem from left field, but it is such an important concept, especially as women, to question.
Why must we, as women and humans, choose only one beloved individual to express our love and life with?
Something about the idea of being with the "one" is not settling with me well. It seems constructed and man-made, like the skyscrapers of New York City. So grand and marvelous, yet surely the foundation is just a grim bed of lies.
I cannot shake these feelings of love and adoration for Mr. W, even if it is just the idea of him.
As women, and even men, we are told that if we even have feelings for another during a committed relationship, that we are wrong, even indecent for such a ‘’disloyal’’ emotion.
Who/what came up with this? Well, I must admit I have some answers to that but that will take another few glasses of merlot and some fresh sheets of virtual paper, solely devoted to such a topic.
I am deeply nauseated at this constructed outline of love, partnership and commitment, and its limitations and overall premise of denying and shaming individuals for their unapologetic, and unfortunately apologetic, love for another.
There is more to this story. However, I must leave this for now to tend to my current existence and its never-ending duties and responsibilities.
To be continued...