Walking Away
I did a terrible thing. I walked out on my sole travel companion in the middle of our ski holiday in Vermont. Just paid hundreds of dollars in ticket changes, packed up, and left in the middle of the night in a taxi.
If someone did that to me, I'd never speak to the person again, and I really didn't want to resort to that. But I couldn't take it anymore. I try so hard to tolerate it, but its like serving a prison sentence - I just didn't want to be there in the same room as Milo is. I can't stand him. I can't stand his tone of voice. I can't stand the way he speaks, I can't stand the things he says. I can't stand his actions and behaviour. I tried so hard during the trip to be nice and tolerant, but we just weren't connecting - it was like baby-sitting a kid you are not allowed to discipline, who constantly tells you what a sucky sitter you are.
The moment I made the decision to leave, I started crying. I wasn't sure why. I suppose they were tears of grief over the likely demise of our friendship. They were tears of failure- that despite my best efforts, I wasn't able to salvage my vacation from spiralling downwards to the extent that I had to leave. Tears that Milo didn't care that I was leaving. Tears acknowledging the fact that I am the kind of person who will walk away from someone like that - I didn't think I'd ever do anything like that.
I was sitting in the snow in sub zero temperature, crying with tears that quickly freezed on my face, making international calls in the middle of the night to friends who supported me in my decision. I have great friends. I'm not sure if I'm one. A good friend never abandons their friends.
Despite my guilt, I instantly felt better when I got away. The further I got, the better I felt. I had 30 minute bouts of crying fits in the bathroom in the airport lounge and on the plane, but I suppose that made the 20 hour journey pass more quickly. I'm back in Dubai now, still reflecting on the incident. I feel like I should document it so I can remember, and read it again when I am less emotional, and hopefully learn something from it. But I dread reliving it again. The scenes keep playing in endless loops in my mind but I still fail to see a way I could have done better than I did. He has a way of pushing my buttons and making me a very unpleasant person. What kind of person does that make me? I need to figure it out.