The End.

I am making a new start, and this blog was to be a chronicle of how I achieved “freedom”. I didn’t achieve anything of the sort, but boy did I learn a thing or two. So, in keeping with my desire to start fresh, and remove toxic thoughts and feelings from my life, I’m closing this blog and ‘ll be starting a new one. Good Luck to anyone who is still following.

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I Think I Quit

I don’t know what to do. I am in despair. I am heartbroken, hurt, angry, and that doesn’t begin to cover what I feel. What the fuck is the point? I am 60 years old, I’m old enough, and wise enough to know not to feel like this, but I can’t help it. I can’t fucking goddamn motherfucking help it. I fucking HATE her!

Relationships end. I know that. I’ve been through enough of them. So why, why is the ending of this one so hard? So terrible?

I’ve told here what I did, and my remorse, and her hurt and anger. Three and a half months ago, she left me. One morning she said she couldn’t go on thinking about how I had betrayed her, and she left me. I struggled. No, I fought against that. For six months before I did nothing but work on showing her my new self. We took trips, we made love, we spent wonderful moments together. At one point, she said, “I love our relationship.”

What went wrong? Does it even matter? I have to accept that our relationship is over. She is dating someone else now. I am so jealous, and so obsessed though, that I literally can’t figure out what to do. The obvious answer of course is to forget her and move on. I know that. I put my soul into this relationship and it didn’t make any difference.

Last May I poured my heart out to her. I told her things about me that I’ve never told anyone else. I thought I was giving someone my secrets to hold on to with me until the end. I really, really thought that we were going to stand together against everything until the end. Was I naive? Obviously. But we endured so much together, and struggled through so many terrible things. It all bonded me to her, even though neither of us could see it at the time.

At one point she became clingy, dependent, angry that I wouldn’t live with her. Ironically, she recovered, became independent, and now, she wouldn’t live with me. My lease will be up shortly. One of the reasons she gave for leaving me is that I wouldn’t move in with her. I was waiting for the end of my lease, and then I wanted to have that talk. I would have been ready to move to her place, or maybe to find a place of our own. I would have enjoyed that, but it’s all over now. Six months ago, that was her major goal in life. To have a man to live with. I guess I’m not him.

I don’t understand though, where I became the “bad guy.” I mean, I know I did something BAD. I admitted it. I can’t express how sorry I am for what I did. I still justify it in my mind though. I don’t mean I should have done it, but my state of mind at the time was such that I felt like I needed revenge. There, I said it. I thought she was fucking around on me, she was in the hospital, critically injured, I didn’t know if she would survive, but I knew if she did it was my responsibility to take care of her. Nothing else mattered but the fact that I loved her. But, I needed to get the sense of betrayal out. Alcohol wouldn’t do it. Believe me, I tried that.

That though, was when I committed the worst act of my life. I wanted to escape. I wanted to forget what I thought had been going on. I posted a sexual fantasy online, and a woman answered. She could fulfill my fantasy, for a price of course, and I took her up on the offer. When the time came though, I couldn’t do it. I felt dirty and disgusted, and told her not to come. As such women will do, she persisted for some time after, asking if she couldn’t make a “follow up” appointment. My lady believes that I participated in this sexual act. I didn’t, but this has been the basis of the conflict between us. I think though, at this point, that it’s just an excuse.

When my lady was in my home, while I cared for her after her terrible accident, she got into my cell phone and/or my email and read the messages I had sent to the fantasy woman. What she saw led her to believe that I had been unfaithful. I don’t blame her. If I had seen the same thing, I would have come to the same conclusion.

I guess the issue really was that she couldn’t, (can’t) believe that I didn’t do anything. Then again, how would I react if she had done that? I don’t know, and it would have harmed our relationship. Would I have been able to forgive her and move on? I’d like to think I could, and considering the nature of our relationship, I think I could have. I would have let her do the same thing I was going to do. I even contacted a male masseuse and would have taken her. She forgets all that though.

Often, when I write, it’s an expression of what’s roiling around in my mind. I haven’t written in months, and that is also an expression.

This woman left me months ago. I had just started getting used to it, when she suddenly turned up at my door, claiming she missed me, and wanted to be “friends.” I resisted, because I knew how I felt. When you’re in love, you’re in love. I hadn’t, couldn’t, stop loving her. I knew full well though, that the day would come when she would walk away again. Then, her grandson was born. Suddenly, and amidst great trouble, worry, fear, hurt and pain, he was born.

In an instant, I was needed again. I provided food, coffee, a safe haven, and an ear. I was asked to involve myself in the family problem, which I did as best as I could. Once everybody was happy, fed, and all the issues were worked out, I was once again unnecessary. That is what hurts the most. I thought that by being the rock, once again, She would realize how much I cared for her.

So tonight, I asked her if she would be home, and she told me no. She wasn’t home last Friday either, and wouldn’t answer my calls when I needed help. She is “dating” some other guy, and it’s ripping my heart out.

This post is stupid and immature, but at least it helped me get my thoughts together to some degree. I can’t lose her, but I already have. This has never hurt so terribly as now. Is it a sign? I just know that I can’t take the hurt anymore. This is surreal. I can’t believe this is happening. Why? It’s happened before, it’s happened to everyone my age. I put so much into this, I really believed in this, and I can’t foresee a future without her. Fuck.

Maybe it’s the idea that I’m sitting here miserable and missing her at one AM, and she’s home in bed thinking about him. Or with him.

Fuck it. I Think I Quit.

No woman is home, thinking about me, and wishing I was with her right now. That pretty much says it all, right?