The end.
He cheated. I found out by looking at the text messages in his phone. I'm ashamed of what I did, he's ashamed of what he did. He wanted another chance, I searched myself for that possibility, I didn't find it.
Every relationship has something to teach me. From this one I've learned that if my trust in someone is so shaky that I feel compelled to violate his privacy in search of confirmation or invalidation of my fears, I can and should stop there and examine whether I'm happy, healthy, and satisfied in that relationship.
I've also learned, again and again, that I have good instincts. That's a comfort, if not a warm one at the moment.
I thought Quentin was the love of my life. I had such hope for a future with him, a long one full of music and laughter and art and love. For most of my adult life, he has acted as the template for what I find attractive in people: Confidence, mystery, humor, sexuality, intelligence, fearlessness... Also, unattainability.
It's time for a new template. My heart is a blank slate. I made a go of it with the person I've been longing for for twelve long years, the source material from which every other love was drafted. It didn't work out. So, now that chapter is complete.
It's time to start again, with no template, no prescription, no rules.
Wish me luck.
Every relationship has something to teach me. From this one I've learned that if my trust in someone is so shaky that I feel compelled to violate his privacy in search of confirmation or invalidation of my fears, I can and should stop there and examine whether I'm happy, healthy, and satisfied in that relationship.
I've also learned, again and again, that I have good instincts. That's a comfort, if not a warm one at the moment.
I thought Quentin was the love of my life. I had such hope for a future with him, a long one full of music and laughter and art and love. For most of my adult life, he has acted as the template for what I find attractive in people: Confidence, mystery, humor, sexuality, intelligence, fearlessness... Also, unattainability.
It's time for a new template. My heart is a blank slate. I made a go of it with the person I've been longing for for twelve long years, the source material from which every other love was drafted. It didn't work out. So, now that chapter is complete.
It's time to start again, with no template, no prescription, no rules.
Wish me luck.