…that it almost doesn’t bother me at all any more.
Whether true or not, I’ve chosen to believe the following, and I am at peace with the whole thing:
- She truly cared about me on some level, at least in the beginning.
- When she told me that she loved me, she thought she was telling the truth.
- When we were being intimate, and she asked, “Who are these other women who walked away from this?”, she was sincere.
- At some point, she decided that, despite the horrible way he treated her, she still loved and wanted to be with her BabyDaddy. I will not attempt to speculate as to whether or not this was a conscious decision.
- After coming to the conclusion in #4 above, she became disagreeable, argumentative, and generally a bitch to me in an attempt to push me away. Again, I will not attempt to speculate as to whether or not this was a conscious decision/effort.
- After I refused to give up or walk away, and as the “move in together” date got closer and closer, she understood that shit was about to get real. She realized that she wasn’t ready for that, panicked, and the rest is history.
- Neither she nor her crouch fruit are at all my responsibility or problem any more. I can talk about her, remember our time together, and even smell the souvenir panties (a thong, actually) that I kept after one of our first encounters, all with a smile on my face, and only a trace of vindictiveness in my heart.
- I will never forgive her, or forget the pain caused by how she ended it. But I no longer wish cruel and unspeakable horrors on her.
- I hope that one day she will look back on the fleeting moments that we had together and truly understand how much I loved her, and how hard I tried to make her happy. And feel at least a small amount of real remorse for her actions.
- I have no regrets. I did nothing wrong. Nothing in my power would have significantly altered the final outcome.
- As much as part of me wishes that I’d never laid eyes on her, simply to have avoided the pain, I’m glad to have had the time with her. Mostly because of #3.
Rest in peace, B. We had some good times together, which I will always remember fondly. But you’re dead to me.