And then you see photos of that boy you knew so long ago, but he's different. In his eyes there is more sadness, the smiles are less wide. You can see the love she has for him in the way she presses her lips so hard against his cheek and ends each sentence about their trip to Jamaica with .....
But you have discussed how he feels about her with him, and it won't last forever. She too will end up like the rest of you-discarded and deeply in love. For a moment you want to warn her, to help her, but you know that it is too late. Too late and you secretly hate her because she is living the life you always thought you would have, but in your dream it had a better ending. You also know that the trips he takes with her are not long, that he would rather take the long trips with his friends and roommates. When pressed for a why he responded, "I can only stand to be around her for short amounts of time. Anything longer than 6 days and I need a break."
So you stop hating her and feel sorry for her, again. But in that sorrow you begin to pity yourself. Because even though you were the first, and according to him the only thus far(a lie you want to believe), there had to be some of the same things said about you to someone. And you know who that someone was. Then you begin to question it all-the authenticity of the years to follow, the promises never made but repeatedly alluded to, the things he said to make sure that you knew how he felt but "couldn't act on" then....
After all of these steps, and a few more, in a never ending cycle you beg the question that you continually come to: Why do you still care? Why did you even feel the urge to look at the photos? Was any of it real in the first place?....
But he said it was all real, just a couple of months ago. He said that it was, and swears you still are the only one he's ever uttered those words to, that everything changed when you got engaged to the most amazing man and husband you have ever known, that it now doesn't matter what it was because you changed it. You made your choice. Not to wait, to wonder, to ponder, to question-anymore.
Yet here you are. Again. Knowing deep down that this cycle may never end. Last night you promised yourself that you would never speak to him again, never think of him. That you would write him(again) telling him that you would do those two things. Except he respects that decision(every.time.you.make.it.) and in the end
you are the one that caves and contacts him.
All of it because what happened then, when you were both children, was so pure. There was never a hint of
inauthenticity until it just wasn't anymore. It ended because you had committed to something before he was there and it was too late to confess that you had as the cliche says you will-fallen in love at 16. You read over and over and over again that the first one never goes away, try to find comfort in that. Knowing that millions of others go on to do what you have done, what he will do, marry someone else and build a life separate of each other.
But it still feels like a tear, like a separation. You never want to vocalize that deep down incentive to repeat this cycle because you know it is crazy. You know that your husband is a gift from God and that the grass is always greener. You know that he is not anymore that young, pure,
goldlight of the morning boy he was. He is instead now jaded, world traveled, successful(in the ugly way, the
fluorescent light and dinner at your boss' house kind of way), and still holding all of those hearts that want to love him at arms length. Which again, you try to find comfort and hope in, but you don't.
Instead you write and write and write and write until your wrists hurt, you want to cry, and you feel like you have cheated on your gift from God and wonder if a bottle of wine will help(which is doesn't and therefore does not find it's way into your hand and belly).
Vulnerability is reckless. To admit that the insecurities I gained from this boy have molded everything I have turned into and pursued would be embarrassing. To admit that I repeat this cycle at least four times a year is shameful. Sometimes they say that if you say something out loud, reveal it to
someone it is easier to relinquish.
Here's hoping.
