Coco Part 2

We left off last time on a positive note, with me hopeful that something would work out between us. After last seeing Coco, I felt confident that we could resurrect our relationship and hopefully start dating. We texted most days with flirtatious undertones. Sometimes it turned into sexting and video calls which was always fun. He excited me, enticed me, I adored him.

But something about him always bothered me. I always felt like I was kept at arm's length, close enough for me to know he cared, but far enough away that he remained a mystery most of the time. Times when I texted him asking to get to know him more, he would respond with comments like:

"You already know me."

That confused me. Usually, when someone wants to know you on a deeper level you make an effort to get to know each other more, right? His deflections made me question what we had time and time again, but I kept trying to unravel this man-puzzle as I liked him so much.

Then I suddenly became extremely unwell, and I tried to hide it from him. The problem with mental illness is that people who haven't experienced it don't understand it. And if they've never been around it, they know even less. It can't be seen, understood or comprehended. I tried to explain to him in basic terms what was happening to me, which he tried to understand and tried to comfort me. But he didn't understand. He couldn't. I knew I couldn't solely rely on someone to make things better, but I did need someone I could lean on occasionally, and he made sure he kept enough distance so I couldn't. I was alone. I felt like the more I tried to explain things to him the less convincing they sounded. He would try to motivate me and encourage me the best way he knew how, but his methods of coping with life weren't the right fit for my current situation. I wanted a friend, but I couldn't get from him what I needed.

One afternoon I had a severe panic episode, and it was terrifying. Not knowing who else to turn to, I called him. I was sobbing and saying all sorts of things, begging him to come to help me, but he wouldn't. He kept explaining that he lived across the city and that it would take him too long to get to me. That upset me. At that moment, more than ever, I needed a friend, and in that moment, he saw me as needy. He tried to talk me through the panic attack but sounded frustrated. I don't blame him really, I had sprung something onto him that not only was he completely unprepared for, but had no idea how to handle. And he tried so hard. I realised at that moment that he really didn't get me, that he couldn't relate and it made me more upset. I knew he wasn't someone I could lean on at all. I kept begging him to come to see me, that I was afraid I would do something reckless, but that seemed to annoy him more. You see someone who has been through a similar experience would understand that I was calling out a code red, and they would have rushed to my side at all costs to ensure I didn't harm myself. He saw me as weak and that hurt. Surviving mental illness is anything but weak.

A few weeks went by, me still suffering episodes and him still trying to encourage me with texts and calls when I had doctors appointments. But we weren't on the same level anymore. I so badly wanted him to understand what I was going through and told him that I would be more open about what I was experiencing and what was happening to me in an effort to bring us closer. He said he appreciated it as it would help him understand me more, but I felt like it made things worse. Maybe that part was in my head, but he would never tell me. He would offer to visit me, but I would decline as I was barely well enough to eat, let alone entertain someone. I desperately wanted to see him, but I knew I wasn't up for it. I knew he would wait.

I started to realise through those few weeks how much I missed my ex (Refer to the story "Beautiful Man"). He always knew what to say when I was struggling and always knew what to do when I needed comfort. He was always a text away. Always. I knew it wasn't fair to be dating someone when I wasn't over my last relationship, and as much as I liked Coco, and as much as I TRIED to get over my ex, it had caught up on me. It made me sad, I so adored Coco. He was everything right 'on paper'. Handsome, smart, creative, kind, gentle, sexy, an amazing kisser and even better lover, driven, organised and inspirational. But I also knew in my heart that I couldn't date someone who couldn't relate to what I suffered with.

I stuffed up. I texted Coco trying to explain it all to him and failed. I didn't want him to think it was him that had done something wrong, I desperately wanted him to know how hard it was to end things with him, and that I had never lied to him about my feelings. But yet again his reactions confused me.

"That's fine Nila."

As if nothing ever happened or mattered. Why was he so understanding, why didn't he fight for me? I kept sending texts trying to explain and making it worse and worse, I pointed the finger, I tried to justify, I told him I wasn't the girl for him. If only I had explained it as well as I have here. I finished with another apology onto to be met by his familiar silence.

And that was the last time we spoke. I always hoped our story would have a sweeter ending, that we would run off into the sunset together, but sometimes the person who looks good 'on paper' isn't the right one for us as sad and shitty as it feels.

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(Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash)