When I was in college, there was a boy who was my everything.
Except, I was not his. And so while he was my first…well, everything…ultimately our relationship ended with a random – and abrupt – end of communication when he went off to law school.
Years later, he contacted me again – he was living in another state, married, with a child, and he started to get sort of flirtatious. “Um, hello….what’s going on here???” I’d ask…often via late-night IM…confused, and, quite honestly a little bit offended.
But there was a part of me. A part of me who was tempted – to let him get close and then be the one to reject him. Until I started to feel a little bit sorry for him.
We all have these ideals we think we crave — that great love, that great passion – and often, we eventually get what we think we want, and discover it wasn’t remotely what we were envisioning.
And so I find myself filled with empathy – for his wife, his child, and honestly, even for him – I found myself, and I’m so incredibly happy – how awful it must be for him, to have what he thinks he wanted, and realize how miserable and alone he really is?
Just a few days ago, he sent me a text message that his wife had found some of our old conversations, and he was going to have to distance himself. I waited for that familiar tug to come upon my heart…and it never came. I texted him back and wished him well – I was wearing my French Connection Dolly sandals, $37.50 at 6pm.com, and packing for a getaway to St. Lucia…what do I have to be sad about?