Rambling Thoughts About The Man Who Never Cared

It's a shame hearts don't care whether the person who broke it was even worth the pain.

I'm sure I've broken some hearts in my day, but I never did know the pain of a broken heart until I met him.

I let him in. I opened myself up to him so carelessly, so easily. And he took advantage of it.

I suppose that's on me for trusting someone I shouldn't have. But he made it so easy. He made it seem like it would be a mistake not to.

I guess that was the point. That was the way to trick somebody into letting him in, right?

He seemed so easy to love. So flawless as a human. He could make the dictionary sound interesting.

But with every little thing that seemed perfect, there were ten more that were just always a little off.

Not enough to really notice on their own, but let them pile up and it's just glaringly obvious.

I wrote off all my deal breakers for him. I told myself it didn't matter that he had a kid, it didn't matter that he had been married before.

It didn't matter that he never let me into his personal life. It didn't matter that we never met outside of hotels that weren't near either of our homes.

It didn't matter that he always had an excuse ready for me, regardless of what I was asking.

It didn't matter that he was leaving. It didn't matter that he'd done bad things in the past and those bad things were coming back to haunt him.

It didn't matter that his stories were vague on the details and the details rarely matched up.

It didn't matter that he never seemed to want to advance our "relationship". It didn't matter that he only came close to saying he loved me over text.

It didn't matter that the first time we met was also the first time we had sex. It didn't matter that we had sex every time we saw each other.

It didn't matter that he was never available on weekends or at night. It didn't matter that he only had time for me like I was a nine to five shift.

It didn't matter that he never wanted to meet my family or come to my house. It didn't matter that he kept our private lives separated.

Because he has a kid. Because he works multiple jobs. Because weekends are his "me time".

Because we live so far apart that hotels in the middle make perfect sense. Because we had chemistry. Because we never talked about a relationship.

Because he promised he would come back. Because he told me how to get in touch. Because he told me what happened in his past.

I explained everything away for him. I never even gave him the chance to do it himself. Every little thing that didn't make sense, I gave it meaning.

Until one day, he left. He actually left. Not without warning. Not unprompted. He said goodbye. And he promised he'd back back.

I waited. I waited. I waited. I tried to get in touch. I waited. I tried to move on. I waited. He ghosted. Nine months later, he ghosted.

I gave up on him. I tried to gather the shattered pieces of my already broken heart and I really tried to move on.

I was doing really well after a couple of months. But I guess he had other plans for me. Because he came back five months after that.

He spun more stories. I got trapped in his webs again. And the cycle started all over again. Except this time, some things were a little different.

He didn't have custody anymore. He didn't have multiple jobs anymore. He spent the night with me more often than we did day time flings.

He came to my house. He showed me places that held meaning for him. He invited me on a "trip" that I never got to go on.

I was completely entangled once again. But this time, I tried to have the relationship conversation.

And it went about as well as I'd expected. We were just friends with benefits. Nothing more. He apologized for giving me the impression of more.

I didn't give ultimatums. I didn't make requests. I didn't have expectations. I took whatever I could get.

Perhaps that makes me pathetic. Perhaps that makes me desperate. Perhaps that makes me stupid.

But what I came to realize in my time knowing him was that the presence he'd held in my life had carved a gaping hole in my heart.

The heart doesn't get wounds like that from someone it doesn't deeply care for. He weaseled his way into my heart and screwed me over.

The best part is, after letting him back in, he ghosted me a second time. That time it was totally unprompted, completely out of the blue.

Like a sucker punch to the gut. At first I laughed. I'm pretty sure that day was the second time I've ever hyperventilated in my entire life.

The roller coaster of emotion was unparalleled. But the good news is that the second time, the wave of depression was shorter and less severe.

But

I still think about him.

I still replay our last conversation over and over in my head.

I still question what I did wrong.

I still wonder why he just up and disappeared.

I still think about him.

I still question how much of what he told me was actually true.

I still wonder if he ever had any actual feelings for me.

I still wonder why me.

No matter how much hurt he put me through, and no matter how stupid I felt after I let him back in, I can't stop my heart from hurting. I can look at it logically until the day I die and tell myself that he doesn't deserve the amount of time I've spent pondering these things. But it won't stop those thoughts from rising to the surface at the most random moments and just stopping me in my tracks.

I could be having the best day of my life and then something comes to mind that reminds me of him and it feels like the dust settling after a herd of wild horses ran by. I can see my memories of him clearly. The memories themselves are obviously fogged up considering I formed them with rose tinted glasses, but the memories I do have - as false as they may be - are clear as day. And it reminds me of things I thought were good. Things I thought made me happy. Things I thought had potential.

And it ruins my mood.

Is this what it feels like to have your heart broken? Is this what it feels like to be completely and utterly ruined by another person, without ever needing to be touched by them?

Sure, fights happen. Feelings get hurt. Things are said. But love shouldn't hurt. So what is this feeling? And why does it hurt so bad?