When the shoe dropped it was too late, and you had moved on. Leaving me with regret, sadness and the knowledge that you were never coming back, ever. The craziest part of it all is that it was my fault you were no longer there. I though we were solid, I thought we were in love. I cried for days, perhaps even months at the realization of what appeared to be my “biggest mistake” ever. I held onto, read and re-read the poem you wrote me which became a subtle slap in my face, as to why I was now alone.
You were the strong one, the one who acted like an adult. The one who gave everything to “us, the couple.” While I on the other hand, always acted like a selfish child; indecisive and way too sure of myself. Yes, I wanted you to be with you, badly. Yes, I really was in love with everything about you. But the newness of “us” scared the comfort of what I had, had with him, and always drew me back and me. Guilt consumed me for having ended things with him so abruptly, because I was so smitten by you. Yes, smitten with everything about you; the way your face turned red and you blushed whenever we were together, the yogurt, cereal and fruit salads you would make me for breakfast, the sexy and seductive accent you spoke with when you would tell me everything about your life past and present, your love for reading, poetry, and playing guitar, your love for eclectic types of music and the concerts we went to, your constantly cracking jokes on other people or on me, leaving at a moments notice to do something on a whim and not have to plan everything out, your ability to see the world and other cultures without judgment and with full acceptance and interest, how you’d tease me about the little things you found amusing that I did, letting yourself be kidnapped for the night with me and a friend, when you barely knew me and then taking it a step further and trying to drive us to Paris; a the while pretending not to acknowledge that I was into you, until we came home the next day and you kissed me in the car, or not wanting to ever take your shirt off in front of me because you were sincerely worried I’d laugh, and of course that boyish, extremely likeable nature that you proudly exuded. Yep, you always stood before me, and by my side and offered me everything that I not only wanted, but what I needed. Everything, I had ever been looking for.
Would it sound silly if I tell you I woke up one day and realized you were partially the reason for my wanting to leave Europe and move back home to the U.S? I was ready to rebuild my life and try and escape my feelings and thoughts of you. I had nothing to stay for. It turned out that was not so easy. I could not and did not forget. I stayed in touch with people who I knew and they gladly fed me information about you. When I found out you too had left the place where we used to work together, I searched for a way to contact you. I even remember trying to write to you. I figured I had nothing to loose, what if? There was never a response, but I was not surprised. I had not been the first of your ex’s to attempt this. I can remember the time so clearly when we came home from work, to your place one night and there was a letter or postcard from an ex and you didn’t even hesitate to chuck it in the trash, unread. What is it you have that leaves a women regretting what she lost, and knowing what she had was worth keeping?
There are still stolen moments for me when I am alone driving in the car, listening to music or reading poetry that you cross my mind and I relish in the moment, feelings and thoughts of you. And even though I have now semi-reconnected with you on a very superficial and distant level and know a bit about how your life has turned out, I still wonder about what would have been had the shoe not dropped.