anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,

Too cold for you here.

I don't understand how it could have taken him months to understand how badly I was affected by his absence when I wrote about it in considerable detail here in this journal, which he reads occasionally. This entry and this entry were public so he presumably read them but chose not to take action. Even putting that aside: how many times does a girlfriend have to tell her boyfriend that the distance was killing her, that she was depressed because of it, before he'd take notice and do something about it? Apparently it was only in Amsterdam when I told him that I wanted to break up that he realised the gravity of the situation.

I find it ludicrous that things ended this way. I'm sorry for thinking like a lawyer now, but I covered my bases; I gave him full and frank disclosure; I even wrote about it where he could see so that whatever I didn't manage to get across orally could be transmitted via the written word, which is my preferred way of expression anyway. And yet. And yet, it took him months to get it. It took me walking away from the relationship for him to get it. He had no excuse for not knowing how serious it was; I gave him reasonable notice and he either ignored it, or didn't think about it, or interpreted what I told him to mean what he thought I told him, which wasn't at all what I told him.

It got to a point where I felt like I was saying the same thing over and over again. The break-up over Skype/FaceTime the Sunday after Berlin would have been a good place to end things, but for some reason, he thought that we were on a break. I don't know how he went from "so this is it" to "we are on a break". He read my entry about my date and got upset, and decided it was finally time to call me.

Too late.

He said he finally decided, after the Skype call on Sunday, to come to The Netherlands and live in the same country as me.

Too late.

He said that I never trusted him on his conviction that things would somehow work out, but it seems to me like he was fumbling in the dark. He didn't know how much the distance affected me and chose to travel. He could've done something in Amsterdam if he'd really wanted to, but he didn't; and only truly went for it after I'd decided that I wanted out. Too late.

He never went back to London to see me after I saw him in France. How could he tell me with a straight face that he wasn't apprised of the gravity of my emotional distress when I spent our last night and last few hours in Paris crying because I had to leave him again? At that time, he said that I was emotionally unstable. He got impatient when I got sad. I'm sure he didn't mean it in a manner to suggest that I was being a nuisance, but it was because he didn't know how to deal with it; but it still hurt.

That was probably the biggest push factor. I resented him for not seeing me in London, not even once. He didn't even suggest it save for a meek "should I come see you?" when I finally told him that I was unhappy in the relationship. I know that it wasn't easy for him; I know that we fought like crazy when we were together in my Edgware Road flat; I know that I was close to impossible to deal with.

I felt abandoned anyway. I was miserable practically all the time. And it wasn't like I never gave him any indication that I was unhappy; I told him repeatedly.

It's hard not to feel angry about this. I don't know how he dropped the ball on this. I wrote about it, I talked to him about it, I fucking cried about it, and he said that he didn't realise how serious it was. I think that was probably the most significant final indication that me and him were simply not on the same page; that he didn't understand me; that he didn't listen to me; and that there was no point in continuing with a relationship in which the communication was rotten as fuck.

After he read about my date, we had a five-hour Skype call on Friday during which we spent half the time shouting at each other, including him saying ugly things to my face. I don't remember ever using a derogatory term on him. The next day, when I was out with my friends celebrating a graduation and he showed up in The Hague at midnight. I was advised by my friends to tell him that I'd talk to him tomorrow, in light of how upset I was at work after talking to him for about 40 minutes on Friday afternoon; but I felt like I couldn't just tell him to go away out of respect for our history, so I talked to him for close to two hours. In these two hours, I repeated things that I spent 5 hours telling him the night before.

He wanted to see me on Sunday. I didn't really want to, but would've talked to him if he'd met me somewhere convenient for me. He went to the Peace Palace which is near my place, but I was in the library in Centrum. He showed up there at 5.15, 15 minutes past closing and 1 hour and 15 minutes after I left for a cafe. He called me at about 6; I wasn't paying attention to my phone so I only called him back 20 minutes later. He said, "You've made your point clear. I just want to say goodbye."

He left on Sunday. I didn't make the effort to see him.

I attribute responsibility to him for two things: his failure to fully grasp the severity of the effect of the distance on me; and...I forgot the other thing. Make that one thing then. I think he completely failed on this point. The consequence of his continuing to stay away was my subsequent act of placing distance between myself and the relationship so that I could feel like a normal person again and not a perpetual wreck; and the result of that was that I didn't feel like I was in a relationship and therefore, wanted to just be by myself.

At the same time, I feel guilty for three things: how I handled everything, especially my wishy-washyness in breaking up; not seeing him on Sunday; and moving on so quickly.

I should've decisively broken up as early as in London when I told him that I was unhappy, but I took it back out of sentimentality and the fact that I still loved him. I should not have taken it back when I broke up with him in Amsterdam but I couldn't think past the panicky sense of regret that I felt almost immediately after the fact. If I had been firm earlier, maybe it would've been less painful in the end.

Not seeing him on Sunday is pretty self-evident so I won't go into detail. But the moving on: it continues to startle me how easily I'm able to figuratively flip a switch and turn off my feelings when the situation calls for it. I missed him for a few days after the Sunday phone call, then decided that I had enough. Decided to move on. And that was it. I'm not on the rebound; to be on the rebound would require that I miss him, but I don't. It would require that I am trying to get over him by using another guy to distract myself, but that's not what I'm doing. It's so clear in my mind and perhaps even in my heart (though I can't speak for it sometimes) that I'm seeing (sort of) this new guy on a de novo basis; I don't care about what happened with Arnaud in that regard. I like this guy. Since meeting him on Thursday I've felt a sense of light-heartedness that I haven't felt in a very long time. I went out with him with zero expectations (didn't even have a good sense of what he looked like; agreed to go out based on the text conversation which was interesting enough for me to meet a stranger) and got a lot more than I bargained for. As much as I feel guilty for moving on so quickly, I can't deny that I'm currently happy.

Since I'm still me, I'm questioning how long this is going to last (by 'this' I mean the attraction, the interest, the excitement, on his end and mine), but I'll try not to be myself for a while and just enjoy the ride.

Off to bed.
Tags: arnaud, dating, personal, relationships

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