Well that conversation obviously came as a shock to me. I really did want to be there for him. Leave behind the arguments and the insults, I cared about how he was doing, feeling, holding up, whatever. I still cared about him and wanted to know if he was going to be alright. I certainly wasn't expecting him to attack me. That conversation really upset me and I cried...again. I'm not usually this emotional of a person but what he said really just pierced my heart.
I signed off after that; I couldn't think of a nice thing to say or even a decent comeback that wouldn't be dripping with sarcasm, disdain and perhaps some hatred. That wasn't worth it. He read my blog and didn't like it. My thing has always been, if you don't like it: don't read it. He obviously read it, didn't like it and then decided to attack me with it. Low. So I decided to cut myself off completely from him. I put my blog on private (which is why I'm writing all this crap in the first place), deleted him from my friends list on facebook and I'm still in the process of locking him out of my heart.
The fact that he remembered what he said, understood just how hurt I was and still wouldn't even acknowledge it, hurt me. Still, he's my friend and friends support each other when in need. I thought divorce counted as being in need. He made it clear to me though that not only did he not need me, he really didn't want me. Ouch. Big, big ouch.
As I told my mom all of this on the phone (I started to cry again, suprising right?) she said that he was probably blaming me for all of his woes. Great, I responded. She said it didn't make it right but he was probably looking at it as though I was the one that set all of these events in motion. First he was in love with me and then I broke his heart. I got pregnant with someone else's baby when he still wanted to be with me and I supposedly wanted to be with him. So he was hurt, his family was still pressuring him to get married so he gave in (sort of like the rebound girlfriend only this was now the rebound wife) and wasn't happy in the new relationship. Then she wasn't happy either with him so she left him and wanted a divorce. That was two rejections, first one from the woman he really did love, second from the one he didn't love but was still married to. Then he would have to know and everyone else would know that he failed as a husband. (I know, it takes two to make a marriage work or fail but he would still perceive it that way.) So looking at it from that perspective, I was the root of all his misery. In a way I could understand why he would still feel angry but that was still no excuse to tell me to take my ideas and essentially go to hell. That was the final straw. I couldn't accept that he would insult my being American and then when I simply tried to help, have it shoved back in my face with another hurtful, hateful comment. Even now, I want to cry. I so much want him to read this, know what I've been going through, but it wouldn't change anything. He can't take back what he said, neither of us can take back the things we did (ie him getting married and me getting pregnant) so the relationship (or whatever you want to call what we had) was killed. It didn't fade away, we didn't just drift apart, he simply killed it.
He was always trying to make me look like a monster where all I did was hurt him. He never told me any of this while we were together so how was I supposed to know? I at least had the decency to tell him when I wasn't happy, there was never any question where I stood. I didn't realize he wasn't being honest with me on the same level. I tried to tell him that he couldn't blame me for his past hurt because I had no idea and he wouldn't tell me. Of course I'm going to make the same mistakes over and over if I don't even realize they're mistakes! That really just irritates me when he brings that aspect up over and over. I even told my mom, there are so many times when I could insult him, when I could take a low blow, but I don't. That wouldn't be fair and it would be low class. Of course, he took two of them with me but who is counting right?
Still, I love him. When he said he was getting divorced I couldn't help but feel that small hope that maybe we weren't completely over. Maybe there could be a future for the two of us. Obviously it wouldn't be right away, but in time we could move past all of our stupid arguments and just be happy with each other. Then he said that...hell with you and what you think. That's definitely not the mentality I want the man I'd consider marrying to have. When would that come up again? Would we be married and get in an argument only to be told I was a stupid American and to go to hell? Who knows, maybe it wouldn't come up, maybe it would. It's the fact that you never know. The only time I made real distinction in him being Indian was after we had eaten dinner (he was a great cook) and I told him Indians definitely have the best food. Heck with American and Mexican dining, I want some good, spicy Indian food! He just laughed and I could tell he was pleased that I liked his cooking so much. So I definitely made that distinction on him being Indian there but it was not insulting in the least.
I remember at one point, he asked what my mom would think about me dating and Indian guy. I said it didn't matter; skin color, hair color, ethnicity, none of it mattered as long as the guy was treating me well. I said the only thing she might have an issue with would be if I were to come home and say I was now dating a woman. That would definitely come as a shock to her. lol
I still have all of our old pictures; I remember when we took every single one of them. Sometimes I get so upset I consider erasing all of them and just being finished with the entire thing but something prevents me from doing it. Maybe I still cling to the idea that we could be together, maybe I cling to the fact that I still love him and just can't let him go, maybe I cling to the idea that he still loves me, I really just cling to him. That is so stupid I can't believe I'm saying it, but it's true. I have always prided myself on being independent and not needing anyone. He said a few times that this bothered him; he felt like I didn't need him. I tried to explain to him that I really didn't need him but I wanted him. I don't think he quite understood, he still looked upset. So now I still can't say I need him, life obviously goes on, but I feel a great hole in my heart where he should be. Does that count as needing someone?
So I think I shall now bring this to a close. I have spilled most of my thoughts on the matter and still cry. I'm so damn emotional on this topic it's crazy. This really is sort of like talking to a shrink, forcing myself to look at the situation and how I feel about it. I miss him, I love him, but at the same time I'm so hurt by what he said that I just want to push him away. Maybe it's for the best; I don't know.
Another friend of mine is very interested in me; he's made that plenty clear. Still, I can't see a real future in him, as an individual or as a partner. It's just not there. I at times find myself comparing him to my old love. When we were at school together we were both dirt poor but I remember telling my mom that he was going to go places and do very well. I could see his drive and intelligence as he battled his way through grad school. Sure enough he got a great job and not long after an amazing promotion. Money isn't everything though. I loved him just as much as a college student as a guy with a very high paying job. Current, interested friend, does not have that same drive. I see the potential but he doesn't want to do anything with it. I just don't feel that same connection, that same desire to be with him. The magic just isn't there. I wonder how long I'll be acting like a moron and comparing future guys with the one past. There really is no point because no one will be just like him; we're all individuals so comparing one person to another really isn't fair. So I think as I let go of my love then I'll be able to look ahead and not think about him so much, not try to compare others with him, not feel like a part of myself is missing. So concludes my sob story and life goes on as always...
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