Ciao Blue Booby
How bittersweet I feel about you. Yes, even now, still pathetic? Maybe, but reserve your judgement until you’ve heard this out.
You took me by surprise, when we met out there in paradise, and you knew it too. You knew exactly what you were doing and I knew you liked me, I won’t contest that I was naive and battled with my sensibility to deny knowing it. Honestly, we met at a time when felt happy having accepted that I probably wouldn’t meet an attractive, well put together, emotionally mature man. I’ll explain further; my life had never been rocked by a man the way you were about to, you could say that up until that point I’d been living partially blind without realising.
I looked into your soul through you eyes and there was, something. There are no words for what is was, but it was there, you saw it too. We’d take in the sea air on the top of that place and talk for hours. I put my guard down. You showed a genuine deep interest in my spirit that I’d never received from anyone before.We both simply fit and it was like I was finding a part of me that I’d not realised I had lost.
As the time went on, there was no way things could remain as they were before we’d met, we both knew it. My resistance to you was real and true and when I told you why, you shook my world as I knew it, you gave me the courage to face up to some of my demons. ‘wherever you are be in the moment, different is so beautiful’ you said.
I literally saw stars that night, shoot out the sky, right above your head, just before you kissed me.
The months that we thought it would be before we saw each other again turned out to only be a matter of hours, completely by serendipitous coincidence (which, again happened to be another first experience for me.) There was no letting go of each other. Being comparably in-experienced I was still hesitant and each time you felt it, you comforted me, without me asking. After the misunderstanding that night alarm bells were an understatement for the noise in my head. Of course, me being in-experienced ignored those and allowed your mood swing to take you to bed while I walked home in the dark, alone. I could write a whole other letter to myself for letting you get away with that.
When I saw you again my feelings for you were as they had been, I’m not sure if they were for you. I wanted to believe that they were, and you said that they were. But something felt off and different.
I know that back then, if I had come out of my shell more, if I’d been more open to you, been 100% un-apolagetically myself (basically be the best version of me) Oh and if I’d never gotten drunk and spent the night in your bathroom (at least you laughed) maybe things would be different now. But scratch that I don’t know that, I just think.
You had a lot of transitional stuff going on in your life you were unable to relax and create focus for yourself, I understood. I had my own stuff going on too, I was just coming out of depression and was working up to tell you. Circumstances that were new to the two of us took over our thoughts and we spent a lot of time in our heads. When we did talk about it and go through it (especially that one night), it felt like we were high and nothing would ever get me down, everything just flowed. But the next day you begun again and I couldn’t stop asking myself if maybe you’d felt this way with someone before because I felt a little taken for granted. It felt like you were being blind to how good things were with us. You clearly still liked me but you struggled to find the freedom to show it in the early moments of the days and admittedly, so did I. But of course we said goodbye for a second time and this time, you were uncertain, I put on a brave face, not knowing when I’d see you again.
Then I saw you again, I got on that plane, excited by the thought of working in that incredible city you told me you found to be a little ‘lonely’ The prospect of surprising you with my job offer in your city kept me going until we met that evening. I couldn’t have been less prepared for the evening. You didn’t bother to greet me at your door that night. I let it go. We caught up, it had been a while and neither one of us wanted to be the one to make the first move (or so I thought.)
You chose to tell me as I slipped into the covers that you had met someone. My whole body stung with the feeling you get from the pang of a slingshot. I wanted to cry so hard. I wanted to grip my suitcase and reverse right back out of your apartment. I held it in. I cried on the inside, while amiable, accommodating pushover me appeared and did my best to remain composed.
I did show you my vulnerability that night, but in a controlled way, you’d fooled me and I couldn’t give you the opportunity again. You felt terrible clearly, just from the little I did express, makes me wonder the reaction you would have had if I’d just opened the floodgates. I remembered all your friends had boasted to me before about your kindness and your heart warming sensitivity “he’s the good guy, always”. Well everyone does shitty stuff. But hey, you should have just been blunt with me. It would have hurt a lot less if you had utilised the characteristics that your friends so generously used to describe you.
You told me that if you’d known that there was a possibility of me getting work in the same city/country as you, then things would be considerably differently. Bullshit? Maybe, but I wanted to believe you. You took advantage of that. It that really what it was? If I told you all this now, would it make a difference?? I spent the next day in a beautiful city that I thought i knew, I discovered just how ‘lonely’ you’d described it to be, thats when I let the floodgates open.
Truth is I don’t think you are ready to find love. If you were as interested in me as you’d genuinely originally shown, you would have tried harder. You wouldn’t have invested your interests in someone else so suddenly. So what the hell happened?!! I still don’t know. It’s a pain and uncertainty that still pokes and prods me and the most in-opportune moments. I’ll probably get hounded by other women for admitting to you here that I still like you, but I don’t give a shit. I can admit that, I just can’t trust you. If you ever read this I hope that you tell me what the hell happened to that interest you had. Mind you maybe If I had the guts to ask you this myself you’d see the backbone I do have and think again about how things turned out. AH I can’t torture myself about this anymore.
I’m so glad I met you, you opened my eyes to living life exactly as I want to, I am living the dream, I wish I could be sharing it with that same person who originally inspired me. But I’m not so sure you are there anymore. I’ve not seen that man that I knew since. I’ve seen a man who looks the same but doesn’t behave the same way, he doesn’t live by those words he once told me, he seems lost. I’d love to reach out to you, but trust is the issue and I can’t put myself out there for you without that. And a huge part of me wonders if I’m just too fucking nice. Perhaps having my heart broken has given me perspective I needed to round myself out.
For this, I want to say this Thank you & Fuck You & No Regrets.
IF you figure things out for yourself, a proper conversation and apology would really be nice, if not then please refer to the above sentence again.