Seems to be a trend tonight with torie’s sad news.
A couple of you know from previous threads (look 'em up yourself, I’m not in the mood) that for the last two and one half years I have been dating a really wonderful man. We are both divorced, two kids, over 45 and church-going. We have been dating in the most pure form of the word. There has been no sexual relationship between us, though I lust for him something fierce and we go out nearly every week, with long phone calls every other day or so. I had good reason to believe that he is very gun-shy, and doesn’t have a lot of faith in his attractiveness, which is something that is not a physical thing. In fact, I have a list of “17 reasons why we’re not sleeping together.” I am a patient woman, and always give someone the benefit of the doubt. Needless to say, I am also a stupid woman, apparently.
My friends think we are strange for having this sort of relationship, but I think it has given us a lot of time to get to know each other in a way that often gets shunted aside when sex enters the picture. We are very, very good friends. I made a conscious decision not to push him into anything, to take my cues from him. I decided that pushing the issue might push him away, and I would rather have him in my life as just a friend than out of my life forever. So I waited, and didn’t pour out my heart to him.
So tonight, he took me out to dinner, which was fun and comfortable, and then in the parking lot was clearly uncomfortable about something, and started a discussion about “us” and our relationship, and were we weird? I told him we were, but that I cared about him a great deal, in fact, I’m crazy about him. Then he told me he’d met someone else, and wanted to see if anything would come of it, and he didn’t think it was fair to me to not tell me. They also met online a few month’s back, and they’ve gone out once or twice in the last month, and that’s when my heart just broke.
We spent the next two hours with me telling him exactly how I felt, and why, and crying, and laughing, and he told me he feels like I am part of his family now, and he wants us to try and hold to our promise to stay friends. He doesn’t know where this new relationship will take him, and I told him that if she turns out to be a high maintenance bitch he can always call me, and he wants me to still feel welcome to babysit his grandchild, and we hugged and he held my hand, and when we parted, we kissed for the first time (other than thank-you pecks on the cheek.)
And now I am drinking the last of the Godiva liquer and the raspberry vodka and I can’t stop crying. I have lost the best man in the world. I felt that we were perfect for each other. I felt we had a future. My kids like him. My friends like him. I love him. And I miss him already.
In three weeks I undergo some life-changing weight-loss surgery. He has been very supportive, and while I am not doing this for him, I was counting on his support to get me through what will be a very difficult time.
I am once again alone, and my grief is a crushing thing.