The night we met your band was playing. You thought that made you special. You didn’t know about the stable of musicians I had amassed before you ever showed up in my life. I wanted nothing to do with you, honestly. You were a 12-year-old. At least that’s how you looked. But you persisted. And for months, three to be exact, you showed up at my bar, called, texted, whatever you could do to try to gain my affections. When I finally relented to come to a party at your house, I don’t know what changed. I saw something in you, something I wanted. And then you left for six months for tour. We talked, texted, every day. And you wormed your way into my heart.
And then I found out you were still talking to other girls. I had never once checked a guy’s phone, but when the incessant 4 AM phone calls wouldn’t stop, and you slept like the DEAD, I looked. I told you I knew, and at first you tried to deny it. I screamed my objections, asked you to want only me. When you said “I’m not sure I can ever do that”, I left.
You won me back with a new bike, knowing how tattered my old one was. You paid attention, noticed what I needed.
We moved quickly, but meeting your family stalled me. Your constant inability to satisfy my needs and utter laziness in so many avenues escalated the situation.
Then you told me you were starting a new band. A… COUNTRY. COVER. BAND. Three words I despised more than almost any others. I was supportive, despite my reluctance.
The band became your main focus, much more important than I was. So, after months of deliberation and heartbreak, I was ready to go. But… we had a wedding to attend in The Bahamas first. I planned on leaving you as soon as we got back home.
We went, a day early and through a torrential storm. You slept in the airport over an 8 hour layover while I held watch. Typical.
We arrived, bolstered by our shared mission. The night of the wedding, after watching such an outpouring of love and commitment, I broke.
That night I confessed my wish to end my life. To walk into the ocean and never come back. And for once, you held and comforted me. Asked me to just hold on. I had no idea what you had planned.
The next night, you proposed over an oceanside candlelight dinner you arranged without my knowledge. You surprised me, which hadn’t happened in years. And I actually believed you could keep doing that.
Spoiler alert: you never surprised me again. Never even tried. I spent the next year convincing myself that I could still go through with the wedding. I wish now that I hadn’t.
11 & 1/2 months later, after endless ambivalence from you, I finally realized that our separate bedrooms and complete lack of communication was our end.
I said “We both deserve to be happy, and we can never make each other happy” and I left. The moment I stepped into my new space, I knew I’d done the right thing for both of us.
And it worked. You’re happy now. You have the life you needed.
And I have a life free from you.
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