The One Who Was Supposed To Get Away

Just like that he came back into my life for a brief moment and then he was gone. I finally had closure. I could happily close the last chapter of our book that was left unfinished for 15 years. Some, well a good majority of people that know me, think I’m crazy for holding on to this miniscule thread of hope for so long but I couldn’t help it. Believe me I tried to let him go. I tried to heal on my own. Through every outlet that could occupy my time, relationship that failed, vices that only masked my last burning question and story that I would write. He was my first love, the one that got away, that feeling I haven’t been able to find with anyone else, the one who shattered my heart into pieces. It’s been 15 years since that traumatic and dreaded day. He had found someone else while we were still together, the events that followed were mind numbingly heart breaking and egregious. And like that we became strangers. A decade and a half has passed and obviously the tears have stopped, they say only time can heal, but it hasn’t. Time had helped me to bury my memories. I couldn’t let go subconsciously. He would cross my mind more often than not and I would revel in the brief memory and bury it back down deep. We had built different lives, his on a stable foundation, a house, a wife, 2 dogs, the American dream, no kids and living with no obligations. He was always a believer in love and commitment, I knew this about him, why couldn’t it be me? It’s been so long, who cares right?

I had chosen the gypsy, free spirited life, eventually grounded by 2 children, a stint of living in different states and cities because I thought I could find happiness that way, an alcoholic baby daddy who’s still a kid himself and now I found myself in the process of re-building an independent life as a single mom living in my sister’s house. Making the same mistakes over and over again. 2 very different stories. One scab that re-opened every once in a while that wouldn’t seem to heal.

You will find as a common theme in the hot mess of events that transpire in my life that alcohol either helps or hurts my situations, I’m sure that will be a whole other story I will write soon.

So let me elaborate, one night in a bourbon induced haze I went down a rabbit hole on the internet looking for anything I could find about him. Jackpot. I had stumbled across a phone number that sounded so familiar, it had to be his.

I texted him. And it was composed of a pathetic and desperate vomit of words that resounded with an ending of , “I wish you the best and hope all is well”. Send.

All of a sudden my phone rang instantly displaying “private number”, what had I done? Well, I had to answer it. The thrill that it could be him took over me. I answered. It was him. I knew his voice even after all these years, he said, “Who is this?” I froze I knew it was him, he knew it was me. “So sorry wrong number” and click. Dial tone. Well I had come this far, why didn’t I say it was me? And don’t laugh or cringe but I proceeded to text him that it was me and finished it off with an, “I’m sorry to bother you. “ And that was that.

It was done. I woke up the next morning, reluctantly checked my messages, no text back and deleted the thread. Let it go already. What was I thinking?

A couple days had passed, life went on, I didn’t even think twice about my terrible lapse in judgement.

Monday morning had come to wake me up with stray beams of light from the sun that pierced through my window and I rolled over in bed, my routine now a days, and there it was, a text from him. It read, “I’m glad you reached out. To be honest, I never thought I would talk to you again. Hope all is well and I’m sorry for hurting you in anyway. “And like that, every bit of anger, sadness and question that had left me so broken almost a decade and a half ago felt like it had disappeared. It was closure.

We spent the whole next day texting back and forth, we picked up right where we had left off. There was no awkwardness or burning hatred towards him anymore. All the horrific things that I once would have said to him didn’t even cross my mind. I just wanted to wish him well, I wanted to know he was doing well. I had blamed him for my broken relationships and inability to love any man back because he hurt me. But that never came up as we caught up. We talked about how life has treated us, the curve balls thrown at us and that left us bruised and where we are at in our lives now. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t my fault, it was life.

And after we said our good byes I realized something, Stored amongst those frolicking memories of bliss and joy there were cracks in between that were so indentured and so deep that the damage we had inflicted on each other was a product of the what shaped us for the next person. We become who we are through mistakes and pain we endure. We were both so utterly chaotic and broken inside, we didn’t have a chance to combat it. Not together. We didn’t treat each other right, we fought, and we did indescribably spiteful things to one another but I wouldn’t wish it away anymore. We were kids, We learned from it. But don’t ever under estimate the affect that young love will have on your heart. For me, it created some untapped relationship issues that I needed to face.

I don’t know if I will ever have that same rush of butterflies and excitement that he gave me when I snuck out In the middle of the night just to spend the night with him. And maybe I won’t get that feeling again. Maybe it only happens once in a lifetime. Maybe I sound absolutely insane and I was obsessed with trying to chase down that feeling I just described. I finally felt it again though and I was right, it was a unique rush of dopamine and the most intense euphoria that cannot be recreated with anyone else. I just needed to make sure of that. The burning questions that I needed answered were, with a simple text and a proper good bye, and so our chapter ends. Love is extraordinary, it can be frozen and released and redistributed. It’s as resilient as we want it to be. Use it to heal old wounds and grow. Don’t run away, face your fears head on, or you will never reach the finish line to start a new race. We were never meant to be together, we were meant to know one another and with that he is the one who was supposed to get away.