Sometimes, in relationships, particularly in their endings, you do not get closure. You are left with yourself, and you have to get whatever it is the best that you can on your own, and you move on.
I wrote this some time ago (I am bad with time, but about two years?), in a somewhat secretive corner, but I've decided to share it now.
I have been dating someone new.
I met her in the community of which I am now a member, and was just completely mesmerized from the start. I am horribly awkward when it comes to flirting with women though, the more I admire them the worse it is, and yet somehow I managed to become friends with her, invite her to a party I was having, and in what feels like a magical string of happenings, have been dating her, as of the other day, for one month.
I am so bloody smitten. I'm sure when we go out, other people must notice. Yet I am holding back. I'm holding back for a variety of reasons, some of which are likely healthy, some of which are born of my own old issues, but regardless, I'm not sure even I know how smitten I exactly am.
She is such a beautiful person; kind and considerate, thoughtful and caring. I've been sick for awhile, and twice she's come over and cooked for me (for all of us to eat, though I'm the one that would ordinarily have to cook, so I was doubly blessed). When one of my family members was dealing with the death of one of their family members, and I was considering going back east suddenly, she offered to help front the money for airfare. She is so very smart, and passionate: we've gone hiking and she tells me all she knows about Southern California's botany - I've pressed the flowers that she couldn't identify on the spot in a book of Klimt's erotic sketches. She keeps her eyes locked on me when we shower together, her beautiful eyes the colour of cornflowers rimmed by long blonde lashes, even as I wash her carefully with her hand tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. She puts her tiny always-cold native SoCal hands on my always-warm new englander thigh when we drive. She makes the best vegan baked goods; she "accidentally" made the same chocolate curry muffins on our one month anniversary as she had to tempt me over on that first night we were together. She left a note on my car one morning, telling me how much she loved my very soft hands petting on her the night before. One night she laid on me and told me about old scars she'd kept secret, let me tell her mine, and we cried together for what we'd survived, whispering how sorry we were and how proud we were of each other, and I had never felt so very very honoured. She curls her lips in such a deliciously evil grin when she straddles me, sitting upright to watch my face - always those eyes. She worries over our differences, asking to make sure I am comfortable with things as they are. And she clearly loves me as much as she currently dares.
I am, to put it bluntly, completely and utterly fucked.
I just needed to let this veneer crack just once.
I worried about how she'd feel if I told her I love her, so I never did. And then that relationship moved on and we stopped speaking. I now wish I'd told her. Doing so may have surprised her, it may have upset her. I certainly don't believe it would've stopped our relationship from ending. But I can't really know, and honestly, I don't have enough info even now to make an educated guess.
But I know how it has made me feel for her to not know. I know how I've second guessed myself. I know mutual friends tell me that she judges herself, and displaced, is concerned I judge her. Heresy, I can't know it's true, who knows if they know it's true, who knows if SHE can be aware if it's true. *shrug* But I see inspirational posters saying things like "Every moment spent judging is a moment spent not loving", and I wonder if she has room to know that I don't judge her, that though there was a time when we were both hurting, and it did not hurt me more to know that she shared that experience with me, and there have been moments when I was less gracious than I'd like to have been, that I have loved her, and find myself loving her still. That I never truly stopped thinking that she is such a beautiful person; kind and considerate, thoughtful and caring. That I am grateful and consider myself fortunate that I knew her and got to experience her for as long as I did.
If we spoke, I would tell her that.
I would apologise for the times I could not rise up and be gracious.
I would tell her that I do not find much worth in judging.
I would tell her that I wish her all the good that she can glean in life.
I would tell her, that for my part, there has been a clearing into which anything can be built.