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Beautiful Man

Right person, wrong time.

By Nila DearPublished 5 years ago 9 min read

Have you ever met someone so beautiful, that you have no other word to describe them? Un-romantically I met him on Tinder. At first, I was super sceptical of him, throwing all sorts of curveballs at him to test the waters. But after a couple of weeks of messages and video calls, I knew I needed this person in my life. The care and love he had for me right from the start was something I had never experienced, and I ate it up happily.

I will never forget the first time we met. I was sitting by the water on a park bench, absolutely so nervous I could barely breathe! I made sure I looked perfect with a cute new dress on, and as I sat there watching to see if I could see his car drive into the car park, I hoped that the connection we shared over the phone was as strong in real life. Finally, he walked across the car park and towards me. My heart stopped. He was beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous in every way.

We shyly said hello and hugged, then sat on the bench making small talk. But we both knew we wanted to kiss each other and see what was there. The first kiss, it tells all you know, it tells you exactly how you feel about someone. Our first kiss was perfect, soft, gentle and full of love. At that moment, I knew that was exactly where I was meant to be, with him. We lay a blanket out on the grass and had a picnic by the water. Lying there in the sun talking to him felt so relaxing. He took a photo of me, and when I looked at it I saw what he saw, he was in love. I felt special.

After lunch we agreed to meet at the hotel I had booked him. We both knew what was coming, but didn't want to admit it so quickly. But it happened anyway. I couldn't wait to see what sex was like for us. It was the final piece, it would let us know if we would be good together or not. And we both hope so desperately we were. We had amazing sex. Powerful, full of chemistry and love, it was in sync and perfect in every single way, something I had never experienced the first time with anyone. We were perfectly compatible in all the important areas, and both blissfully happy. We were in love. We spent the weekend together, had a lot of amazing sex, and tore ourselves apart painfully when our time was up and he had to go home. He lived in another city close by, so we knew it would be some time until we saw each other again.

The next two weeks were painfully painful! We talked every single day, and video called every single night before bed. Then he offered to pick me up on the weekend and take me back to his place in the city for the week. It was perfect! We were so happy to see each other after two long weeks of yearning. As we drove back to his place, I couldn't wait for the week ahead, him all to myself and uninterrupted hot sex. And that's what we had, a whole week together with uninterrupted hot sex, but not just sex, love. We made love and it was another first for me in my 30 years on the planet. From then I understood why they called it 'making love,' what a beautiful experience I am so grateful to have been a part of. It was bliss, and I knew there and then that I loved this man deeply.

The week went by fast, and so we decided I would stay another week with him as we weren't ready to part ways yet. So after two incredible weeks of love and happiness and absolute pure bliss, he took me home. I was sad but felt confidant. What we had was real, and being apart gave me no insecurities whatsoever. Three weeks went by before we could see each other again. He came and collected me and we went back to his place in the city for another week together. We developed our little routines and melded effortlessly into each other's lives. We were happy. Days rolled into weeks and I was still there. He moved clothes in his wardrobe and belongings in his bathroom to accommodate me and told me I could move the house around and make it my own. He introduced me to his daughter, who instantly loved me and followed me around with her two-year-old legs trying to pronounce my name. I felt like I had my own little family, and I felt complete.

Weeks rolled into months, I had my belongings in our home, our friendship and trust grew stronger every day, and our love life was out of this world. He inspired me, motivated me and made me want to work on my flaws for the better, and I did the same for him. We built each other up and backed each other up wherever possible. To me, it was the perfect relationship. Then little things started to go wrong. His ex found out he had a new love and decided to make him suffer for it. Abusive texts and stuffing around plans with his daughter seemed to make her life better, and although we tried our hardest not to let her bullshit put pressure on our relationship, it was heavy and hard to ignore. We kept propping each other up and helping each other stay strong, but in an effort to really hurt him, she started punishing their daughter instead. She would put weaves and tight braids in her hair, not pack her food for day-care, dress her in ratty clothes, stuff around her daycare days, the list went on. I started getting legal advice to help him out, and we formulated a plan on how to handle her. More pressure built up around us.

We were still happy, we got to live with our best friend every single day. Our families knew about us and saw the positive changes we were having on each other's lives. And we were. We were healing each other's wounds, loving each other back into life and inspiring change in each other for the better.

More pressure started to build, and he decided he wanted more permanent custody of his daughter. This one threw me. I wasn't ready to be a pseudo mother, despite my family and friends telling me I would be amazing at it. We looked after her more and more, and although I was able to do the daily tasks and care for this little one, my heart wasn't in it. I started to feel almost jealous that she took up most of his attention, and that meant less energy for me and us. Now I know this sounds petty, being jealous of a toddler, but I was and it's the truth. I wanted him all to myself again and started doubting my ability to handle the relationship. But I loved this man so dam much, and so I poured every single piece of effort and energy into him and his daughter that I could manage. We had some really great times with that kid, laughing at her antics, then sneaking off for nookie when she was watching Peppa Pig.

More pressure from the ex, and more pressure to make arrangements for custody. By this time fine cracks had started to show in our relationship. Due to me not having work and being a bored housewife, I demanded a lot of attention from him as I didn't get much social interaction. And due to his job being extremely tiring, and being a father, he only had so much energy left for me, which he gave his all. We continued to prop each other up, encourage each other and work on ourselves but fights would break out as I handled the pressure badly more and more.

As the fights got more frequent and the stress mounted on me, I started to see that I may not be as good for him as I believed. We were still the best of friends and lovers, but my way of reacting to disputes and dealing with problems was affecting him slowly from the inside out, and as I watched it happen I felt worse and worse about myself. I have never worked so hard on myself to be better as I did when I was with him.

After weeks of self-doubt and debating, I knew that our time had come. I knew in my heart that despite every effort I could have ever made, it wouldn't change the cold hard truth. I wasn't ready for motherhood. I had done everything I could to find a way to make it work, spoken to my closest friends at great length, spoken to my parents and even googled how to make relationships work. But I couldn't run from it any longer. It made me physically sick.

Our break-up was one of the saddest memories of my life. I didn't want to end it and neither did he. We both cried so much, hugged, kissed and talked in circles for hours trying to find a solution. I kept saying to him, "You're mine, you're supposed to be mine," I truly felt like we were soulmates and supposed to be together. I questioned the universe and wondered how it could be so cruel as to send me my person only to turn it around and take it from me. It all came down to one big horrible reason, I didn't know myself. I had been living for others for so long that I had forgotten who I was, and that no matter how much I was in love and how amazing my relationship was, it couldn't fill the void that was waiting for self discovery. And no matter who I was with, this would always apply until I had addressed the issue.

The rest of the week was the happiest we've ever been like a huge weight had been lifted and we could get back to being who we were when we started dating. We made a lot of love, enjoyed every minute of our little rituals, and rediscovered laughter we had lost along the way. The morning he was supposed to take me home was such a mixed slush of tears and happiness. The air was missing that pressure that had mounted up against us and created a sense of relief. I couldn't stop crying, I was so heartbroken that I had to leave somebody I loved so much, but I knew I had to and there was no way out of it. He was sad too, and although we made love one last time, it was filled with sadness.

We had convinced ourselves it was a temporary break, but deep down we both knew it wasn't, but we didn't want to admit to it.

As he dropped me off at my place, we took one last moment to love each other. I could barely let myself let go of him as I hugged him and breathed in his cologne. He drove up my driveway as I waved goodbye, and in one last-ditch effort to be my protector and strength he stopped the car and came running down to me for another kiss saying, "It's going to be ok, it will be ok babe, it's ok," and that was the last time I saw him.

I still miss him. I miss our little 'in-jokes.' I miss sex waffles (that is when we had really tiring sex we would eat those pre-made waffles from Aldis, seriously you should try them they're delicious) because we felt we had earned the calories. I miss our showers together, telling him to shut the bathroom door when he pooped, his beautiful smile when he told me he loved me, and most of all... I miss my best friend. One minute they're your entire world and in a blink of an eye, they're gone from your everyday. Just like that. The person you thought you couldn't live without, well, you're living without them and their presence is badly missed.

We text occasionally, I want to speak to him every single day but I know that will just put both our lives back into a spin with no outcome. I pray to the universe every day he is happy, safe, alright.

Like what you have read? Tips are greatly appreciated. Follow me on Instagram to keep up to date with new stories @nila_dear_vocal

(Photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash)


About the Creator

Nila Dear

True stories of love, relationships, heartbreak, & happiness.

Shared in hopes you find entertainment, laughter, tears, mistakes, growth, recognition, reflection, education, hope, realisations, comfort, & something positive.

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    Nila  DearWritten by Nila Dear

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