I met you at work: update

I first met you at work. And I romanticised… everything. Because you see I left out a lot of important details.

We decided to give it a go and unsurprisingly (to family and friends), it still didn’t work. I am now learning (very slowly) what healthy love and safety looks and feels like… and by God, it was never going to be you. In our time apart, I internalised all the mistakes I had made and all the ways I hated myself. And it kept me coming back to you again and again.

Love is not love bombing me, showering me with excessive compliments and praise and projecting a fantasy onto me. Love is not addictive, where my self esteem hung onto your every action. It is not demanding of my time. It is not being angry with me for going to see my sister during lockdown or the day she came back from hospital with my baby nephew. It is not driving a wedge between me and my family, or me and my religion.

“This is as close to unconditional love as you’re going to get.”
“Good luck finding someone who loves you as much as me.”
“You don’t know what love is”
“You are selfish”

And it sure as hell is not gaslighting me, telling lies about me and calling me crazy.
Love is not swearing, shouting or manipulating me.
It sure as hell is not threatening me with something heinous and illegal, and then avoiding any form of apology for months or finding convenient excuses for that behaviour.
But see, I’m only realising this now.
Because having a conversation with you was like playing a card game where the cards are always stacked in your favour.
Whichever way I come into it, whichever angle I choose, I always lose.
It always ends up being my fault.
I’m always the one that ends up apologising to you.

It sure as fuck isn’t blaming me for your own mistakes.
“I probably cheated because my idea of a relationship was messed up by you.”
I carried the weight of that for so long.
I was taking responsibility for a grown man’s actions (a grown man 4 years older than me with far more relationship experience than I had).

Never mind taking responsibility for projecting a false relationship onto an unsuspecting individual.
Using the exact same phrases to love bomb her. You couldn’t even change the damn material.

And you made her sound irrational and unreasonable too.
“She calls me every few months and shouts abuse at me. It felt like torture.”
If you’d had some degree of honesty, she wouldn’t be so confused.
You coward.
It’s all well and good to talk about holidays and paella, but when someone comes calling for some explanations, you are nowhere to be found.

I’ve stopped looking for explanations in you too. You don’t have anything meaningful to add. You can’t even be honest with yourself. So instead, I find them in real love.

Because real love is the people who have always wanted the best for me.
Love is my sister and my best friends who cried when I told them we were back together.
“I wish you knew how much you were worth and what you deserve.”
Love is the phone call I made (at your insistence/ demand/ threat) to a man to who owed me nothing. Who - by all accounts, had more right to anger, hurt and humiliation than you ever did. But instead he showed me what true compassion and grace looks like.
“I forgive you completely. You are a good person who made mistakes. Look at yourself in high regard because you deserve to be loved properly”
Love is the strength given to me by my female friendships. Because despite how inconsistent and unreliable my own behaviour has been, they have stayed unwavering in their support.
Love is my faith. Which despite your hatred of it, brings me peace when nothing else does at times."