I guess once you’ve told someone, “You’re a coward, a liar, and an asshole, and I’m sorry I ever met you”…That’s probably closure, right?
I couldn’t even cry, I was just so tired. I sent the email and then sat there like, “Huh. OK, so that’s that, then.” (I mean, I’m not thrilled, but…)
He responded implying I’m being petty, like, “I’ll refrain from name calling, but that’s wonderful, thanks” was part of it.
Umm…you’re welcome. And I dare you to call me any name I haven’t already called myself.
Crazy slut? Pfft. I have that shit engraved in one of those nameplate necklaces. It’s on my resumé.
Clingy, desperate? I’ll own that. It wasn’t my finest behavior, but I learned from it.
Resentful? Bitter? Probably. But part of re-gutting myself was to get past this permanently. Plus it’s been so long that it’s hard to really resent some…ghost of a person you never really knew, who exists only in some hazy online ether now. It’d be like hating that money-grubbing Nigerian prince.
During our…whatever, I asked numerous times if he had the same feelings for me. I probably would’ve been able to infer he didn’t if he and I had a standard romantic relationship. But we’d started as friends and always agreed we wanted to stay friends. So my brain went blurry, because a friend would never knowingly let things happen the way they did — they would’ve leveled with me. (I’ve done it before. It sucked, but the friendship survived.)
But I had to give up knowing; it was hurting me too much. So I went about assuming it was over, accepting that, and letting him be.
But then his blog likes, Facebook friend request, and LinkedIn profile checkup started grating on me, like, “OK, what are you doing?” Then came his invitation to discuss things he’d seen me writing about him here. So we discussed — argued, really, via email. But I got my answer: He never felt the same way, and finally told me directly.
SO. Not the answer I wanted, but an answer, one I knew was possible. It’s what I’d guessed, but was never 100% sure. I always told him I’d feel better if he just said it (he never would, either out of kindness or desire to keep me hooked), and I do feel better. Part of my mental reaction was, “THANK YOU. Christ, was that so hard?!” But it would’ve been easier, and we’d still be friends, if he’d said it sooner.
I can’t know how the discussion affected him (I’d guess just relief I finally stopped talking). I’m…partly bummed I was so spectacularly wrong about truly knowing him, and honestly, that I’ll never get to have sex with him. (Don’t judge me — I REALLY wanted to. It would’ve been great, to the point that I probably still would if he tried, which is pretty fucked up so I’m happy it’s not an option.) But I’m also relieved I have my answer, and that I got to say what I needed to. (Sad truth? I still don’t entirely believe him. But I’ll get there.)
It sucks we imploded a friendship, because I really valued him that way more than romantically, but he acknowledged the friendship wasn’t much reciprocated, either. And the longer I was left wondering, realizing I’d started being hurt by our conversations more than I was enjoying them, that I’d ended up feeling dirty and used, and that he didn’t miss me even as a friend, the easier it was to let go of that as well.