In the end, I think that he was just different from me. Although he was so good on paper - he wrote, he liked literature, he sang, he played guitar, he liked Legos, he was child-like but could be frisky, he wanted to go into law - he wasn’t right for me.
I bought him a watch from a thrift store a while back. It was the green Power Ranger, the one that was his favorite. When I went to get the battery put in, the watch guy and I were pleasantly surprised - it worked still! It cost me a total of six bucks to get the watch and the new battery, no big deal. We’d ended things, but I wanted still to talk, put things behind us, and try to be friends. I wanted to give it to him if things between us patched up, so I left the watch out on my dresser.
On Tuesday I reached out to him so that we could figure things out. He ignored me. When I got back home and still hadn’t heard back from him, in my frustration I picked up the watch. I read it and laughed out loud. The time was off. It was too slow. It was running, but it wasn’t running correctly.
That’s how I’ve come to see my relationship with him. It worked, but it didn’t work right. I would have had to adjust a lot, I know that much at the very least, and that would have been wrong for me. I deserve someone who will work with me and who will care about me just as I am, not as how I am sometimes, or how they think that I am, or what they’re comfortable perceiving me as.
He never tried for more, not in our brief relationship, not even in getting to know me. We had that first night, that first sushi date of talking, and it seemed like after that he thought that he had me all figured out. He didn’t actively seek out to discover who I am as a person, and since I know that I am quite complex I appreciate someone who takes the time and makes the effort to find me out. I am worth finding out, goddammit. I am more than what you think I am. I am more than “fun,” I am more than “pretty,” I am more than any of the silly, one-dimensional adjectives you kept placing upon me, mister.
I know now that that isn’t right for me. I second guess myself still though, and I even second guess the decision to not reply to him when he finally texted me back on Friday. His text was dismissive. A part of me wanted to blast him. A part of me wanted to try, in vain, to correct him (would he ever have believed my side? Is he capable of seeing things in my way, ever?). A part of me wanted to be done with it, and not allow this thing with him to continue to poison my life. Because really that’s what it was doing - it was poisoning my life. It’s poisonous to try to force something into your life that is not meant for you.
So here I am again, alone and lonely, but it’s okay, I’m okay, it’s okay. I think I am making real progress with my life, and that feels really, really good. It’s hard right now, it’s fucking hard as shit right now, but it feels good to know that it’s all for something. I am making moves. I am continually challenging myself. I am growing. I am learning.