Keri Hilson’s “Energy”
It’s been a few weeks since I returned to single (hopefully not fully returning to perpetual singledom but we’ll just have to see…) and I’m wondering why it continues to weigh on my mind. It’s not that I’m taking it badly per se. In fact, I’ve realized and rationalized this particular breakup enough to be able to list out what I learned and prepare to carry those lessons into the next relationship (maybe). Plus, being two relatively mature and rational people, we ended things on “good terms.” Neither hates the other person or feels overly guilty (my personal gauges for a clean break). That’s great, right?
Normally upon ending a relationship, there are some strong feelings. You either can’t stand the person and relish in being angry, are heartbroken and wallow in your misery, or know you didn’t treat that person fairly and hide from your guilt. Those are all feelings I understand, can rationalize and know how to handle. Unfortunately, I don’t find myself able to relate to any or just one of these reactions.
I am both hurt and angry that someone I cared about no longer cares about me. Although I can’t help but wonder if I cared so much because he’d become a regular part of my life in a relatively short period of time or if I made him a regular part of my life in such a short period of time because I cared so much. Semantics. The important thing is that I cared, had gotten used to having him around and now he’s not. A man I developed affection for was no longer willing to play an active role in my life. And to be completely honest, I wasn’t all that willing to play the part he wanted me to play in his.
But I also feel a little guilty for not being able to ignore how my actions and emotions might have been interpreted and received. I was told point-blank what was needed of me and I only gave what wasn’t vulnerable. Although there were questionable and shady going-ons, I decided to just enjoy myself with him, with us. So in addition to hurt, anger and guilt, I now just feel normal again; single, in control, not bitter but guarded. The problem is that that normal is no longer necessarily the desired feeling. I was enjoying feeling special again.
As I find myself evaluating this lose, I am annoyed that I genuinely miss him. But the thing that annoys me more is having to admit (and therefore address) that I miss us even more.
Missing a person is normal. It’s natural. It makes sense. If you spend enough voluntary (important distinction) time with someone, you’re bound to grow fond of them, close to them. If they happen to be attractive, available and of the gender of your preference, it’s quite possible that fondness could develop into a more physical expression. Once they’re gone (for whatever reason), you’d have to be extremely cold or indifferent not to miss that person and/or being with them.
However, what I’m begrudgingly realizing is that I also really miss the thought and feeling of being a part of an us. I miss a hand on the small of my back. A whispering baritone voice sending chills down my spine. Hoping someone in particular left you that blinking message on your phone. Knowing someone wants to see you after a long day at work. Daydreaming. Feeling attractive. Worrying about being attractive for/to one person in particular rather than any and no one. Having an excuse to even entertain the idea of being sexy. Smiling for no reason anyone around you will understand. Not wanting to be alone and having one person who’ll enjoy just being with you, no agendas. Not understanding why but believing someone considers you more special and finding comfort in that. I miss being a happy choice.
While it’d be great if we’d gotten comfortable enough to do and feel those things (consistently) for each other, I understand it simply wasn’t meant to happen for us. And while I can’t possibly understand why it would be difficult to be in a relationship with me :-), there’s no point worrying why one person in particular wouldn’t choose to. The most important thing to note is the “not.” Not having it/him/us doesn’t make me less. I’m perfectly happy, capable and whole single. I’m used to single. Single’s comfortable. But as painful as it is for such a fiercely independent person to admit, having it/him/us did make me feel a little more. I’m just kind of missing that more. I’d forgotten that special.
Failing to rationalize away missing being someone to someone,
Jo’van
The Truth: According to Jo'van 