Winning
Sometimes, you have to know when to walk away. I tried to several times last year, but I lost the plot, missed my opportunities and sank into a quagmire of doubt and desire. Fortunately, having been away from her for a few weeks, I’ve gained a fresh perspective and am now kicking myself for letting it last as long as it did.
I clung on for months, hoping that she’d come back; wanting to know how she felt about the whole affair, how she could’ve gone from being so passionate to being so cold, whether she really erased the memories from her mind or was just suppressing them, at which point she turned, and why.
Part of me still wants to know. But what would that achieve? Maybe I don’t really want to know; maybe I just want to hear a “I still think you’re rather cute; I feel a little embarrassed that I allowed you to have so much of me, but it was nice while it lasted; let’s move on and keep this as a nice memory yah?”.
Much as my male ego wants to know I had her physically and still have part of her emotionally, it wants even more to avoid being thrown into submission by learning that I, in fact, don’t.
So when she—in a surprising turn of events—tried to broach the subject today, claiming she was “finally ready to talk about it” (maybe those weeks apart did something for her too), I felt the best thing was to brush it aside.
That, really, is the only door out of this which I can walk through with my head held high.
I clung on for months, hoping that she’d come back; wanting to know how she felt about the whole affair, how she could’ve gone from being so passionate to being so cold, whether she really erased the memories from her mind or was just suppressing them, at which point she turned, and why.
Part of me still wants to know. But what would that achieve? Maybe I don’t really want to know; maybe I just want to hear a “I still think you’re rather cute; I feel a little embarrassed that I allowed you to have so much of me, but it was nice while it lasted; let’s move on and keep this as a nice memory yah?”.
Much as my male ego wants to know I had her physically and still have part of her emotionally, it wants even more to avoid being thrown into submission by learning that I, in fact, don’t.
So when she—in a surprising turn of events—tried to broach the subject today, claiming she was “finally ready to talk about it” (maybe those weeks apart did something for her too), I felt the best thing was to brush it aside.
That, really, is the only door out of this which I can walk through with my head held high.
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