Hope Hurts

It’s the secret no one tells you.

Everyone says ‘be hopeful’. And ‘have faith’.

But you know what?

They are all full of shit.

Having hope is a painful thing.

You work yourself up. You get excited. You look forward to things.

You make plans. You imagine scenarios.

You look to the future. A wonderful future.

And then? Nothing works out the way you plan.

And it hurts.

It’s devastating.

It’s emotionally draining.

I’ve spent every day of the last week in some sort of depressed mood. I’ve cried every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

Sensing a theme here, are we?

In the past I have learned to take responsibility for my decisions in life. I’ve always maintained that I have no one to blame but myself. If I can’t be honest here, then where can I be?

I’ve had a sex buddy. A few years ago, before I met my most recent ex-boyfriend, a friend and I gave each other comfort. It was someone I trusted. It ended when I started dating my ex. He’s since moved on and is happy, and I am happy for him.

I know I am capable of that kind of relationship. No strings. Just sex, comfort and friendship.

But not, it seems, with Mr. R.

Mr. R. is not to totally to blame for the situation. Yes, he can take part of the blame for the action part of what happened. We discussed things slightly this week, and he refused to let me take all the blame.

Admirable.

On Friday, I told him that I was “finding the situation a little more difficult to handle than I thought”.

His response? “Good, glad I am not the only one.”

I mean, WTF?

So I asked, him, “how is it difficult?”

All he responded was that it is a longer story than he is willing to type.

So of course I apologized for prying.

And then he asked about me.

And so I told him honestly that I had become more invested than I should be.

To which he replied, ‘same here.’

I repeat: W.T.F.?

He holds the cards. Unless this chick is pregnant, or God forbid, dying, it seems there is a simple way to fix this.

Instead of two people being miserable and one being semi-happy, two people could be completely happy.

So I have made a decision.

Mr. R. discussed getting together in the next week or so. He’ll come to my town for the day.

And at the end of the day…. I am going to tell him that I cannot be friends with him any longer.

It’s not an ultimatum. Or a threat. Or a game.

I have to end things, because I can’t go on like this any longer.

It’s going to hurt like a sonofabitch, but I have to do it. I can’t keep going on, feeling like his girlfriend from Monday to Friday, and then get radio silence on the weekends because he has visitors.

And what is he thinking? He asked me to be his ‘lover’. Then he warned me about how close he was with his parents. His exact words on the phone were, ‘well I am really close with my parents, just so you know. I’m warning you now”.

Doesn’t that mean that at some point I am supposed to meet his parents? In a capacity other than just friendship?

So to save myself, I have to end things. I can’t keep going on this way. I need to put some distance between us, and I can’t do that with all the friendly chatting we do.

A clean break is the best. Well, not the best. In fact it is the exact opposite of best. But it’s the only way. I haven’t felt this way about someone in fifteen years. Sure, a breakup is painful but this is worse than anything I’ve been thought in a while. And I have had so much sadness in my life. I honestly thought that my time for happiness was now. That I finally met the person who was right for me.

But this is not the case.

Just thinking about it brings me to tears. But this whole situation is not fair to me. I used to joke that I was my ex boyfriend’s ‘dirty little secret’, because he never took me out with his friends. Sure some in his family knew about me but only because they HAD to know. But in general? I was non-existent. He was a single guy.

But the joke is on me, because now I actually AM a dirty little secret.

And it sucks.

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