Hello Anonymous.
Both. I miss him – all the parts I know and love (even the messed up ones). His humour, his intelligence, our banter, his councel, his stories, his face, his determination and persistance, his self deprecating ways (even though I think every girl/woman he’s ever been with has had to tell him his nose is perfect), I miss that he can be more than just one way. I miss that he can be sadistic and cuddly, funny/lighthearted and extremely serious, thoughtful and completely callous (remember, I like someone who can be a bit of a bastard). That his sexual tastes are varied – kinky, dark and dirty, and yet he is still romantic. I actually miss that I don’t know all of him. I miss the opportunity to know more. I don’t think I would ever get bored – talking with him, being with him. And it is in that last sentence where the “idea of him” lies.
I had always envisioned a future with him where he was married to his wife – how funny is that? Of course I ran on the assumption that she was a part of an open marriage (not “ Surprise! You’re in an open marriage!”) until the end. I often though it would be wonderful to be friends with her. We have something in common, we love him, even though looking at us we couldn’t possibly be more different. I liked that too. It made me feel like I filled up a part of him – I had a unique spot, I was special (I was totally kidding myself on that one).
As I knew him, who he is evolved right in front of me. My idea of who he was being shattered and remade each time, with each revelation came a peeling back of the truth, to a more true picture of the real him. And I still loved him. Every time. I don’t even try to kid myself to think I really knew him. I wanted to though.
The person he is, I think, he suffers with. Not all of himself, but some – the relationship parts. He wants to be better. He tries. He keeps trying, but sadly I think the biggest thing that is keeping him from success here is he has no clear vision of the future. He has an idealistic picture of where he wants to be, but leaves out or denies parts of himself that cannot simply be willed away. He needs to find comfort in his own skin, while coming to a realistic view of the future and how he wants to live. He also needs to think about the people’s hearts he fucks with. He needs to find/see/experience/come to enjoy the day-to-day moments with the people he loves. Put effort into that, rather than the thrill/high of a new relationship, which never stays shiny and new anyway. There is joy in the work of being together, if you want to. I hope he finds it. I think that alone could change his life. He’ll probably always want the sexual thrill of the new, different, the seduction but why does that have to be mutually exclusive of a honest, truth filled, relationship? If tumblr has taught me anything, it is that there is more than one healthy way to love.
Of course, Anonymous, all of this is moot. If he wanted me in his life, he would have me there. I can miss him and love him until the gray in my hair covers my head, it doesn’t make a bit of difference. It just makes my life a bit emptier, my chest ache, and I cry a little easier. I have said to friends and family, I want to be over him. I want to bury these feelings and move on. Sadly, these feelings seem to have the tenacity of a Terminator.
So to make a long explanation longer – I miss all of him every single day. Even the parts I have to imagine.
And it’s fucking balls.