So long to ever afters, So long to you

He came in to my office for a meeting. I was trying to keep it very formal. He asked something about Friday and I said I was working from home friday. Why? He asked. I didn't want to answer. Just that I have to go to my son's school.

He asked why I'm always wanting to know where he is and what he's doing and he's willing to tell me but when he asks I don't answer. I said that's not true. I didn't ask what he did this weekend. I didn't want to know. I didn't care. Then I said, "My life doesn't revolve around you." He says, "Now you're being bitchy."

I agreed, YES, that IS BITCHY. But that's what you told me, not even a week ago.

I explained that over spring break, two weeks ago Thursday, he sat there texting me how he was regretting all the parts of our relationship he messed up, and that it was his fault and he was a mess. Then the next Tuesday when he is moving his stuff out of our shared office two weeks early, I asked if it was because of me. Then he laughed and said, "My life does not revolve around you. It's not all about you, Sabine." I recount that story and ask "So now? Do you see? It does hurt, doesn't it. It stings a bit. Even if I laugh when I say it. Perhaps even more. And yes, after that I pulled back but the next day when I asked you about your remark you told me I was projecting negativity in to your words." I stare at him hotly. "Remember how often you blamed me for our relationship failing because I was always projecting everything negatively in to your statements," I remind him he said this to me just last week. He was exasperated and said, "I speak in hyperbole! You know that about me!"

I sigh heavily. Nearly two years of anguish slip through my lungs and mouth. "I'm just so exhausted," I say. "I can't keep up anymore. I just don't care now."

He said he was sorry that he hurt me and wasn't trying to be mean.

It was a long conversation and I got confused. I always get confused. It went around and around. Why is it ok for you to not reply to me on text but you get weird if I don't? Why do you have double standards? You told me you were over me a long time ago. He told me I change between being hot or cold and I said I'm reacting to YOU. "I never know if you're going to be warm and hurt and vulnerable or if you're going to laugh while telling me I don't matter to you anymore." His reply, "What, so now when I learn from you, that's bad, too? I review everything you say and try to be better so I change." That's not the change I'm talking about", I say. I'm so frustrated I get weepy, too. "YOU HURT ME," I say with my lips quivering. "And now I'm going to cry and you can feel powerful and glad." "That's what you think of me?" "Yes," I answer. He is shocked. SHOCKED. Like this is news! "Then we shouldn't work together," he decides. "Really? Now you're going to be dramatic?" I repeat the words I've heard a thousand times, even earlier this very conversation. I hope he gets the irony.

Several people walk by my office. The door is still open. Some walk by twice. I think to see what's going on. I stand and close the door.

"I'm sorry I'm an emotional person and this is hard and that you have to see that," he says finally.

"No, sometimes you're cold and stand-offish and sometimes you're warm and funny again. And I pull back at the cold person and build my own walls." I don't know why I'm bothering at this point. I sit, stiffly, in my chair, holding my ground, holding my sanity, holding my hate and love and hurt and anger. I, alone, hold these emotions, not him. Not anymore. I wait quietly.

His eyes are red and wet. He nods and in a whisper confesses, "You're right." He said he was sorry because he goes through all those emotions. He said it's not fair to me. He looked, dare I say, vulnerable. Even if for show.

I confess I did feel powerful at this point, as he sat there teary, actually looking like he MIGHT be listening (which is so rare), and say that it's fucking hard to know where I stand with him. That he hurts me. That for a long time I heard him tell me how wonderful I was and then it changed. Then he would say he was building a wall and he wasn't sure if it was going to come back down. So? I built a wall. I pulled back. And I'm not taking it down. Anger and frustration course through me.

He looks sad.

I tell him he needs to go. He walks and opens the door, peeking back as he steps through the half open space. He gestures at me asking if he should close it again or leave it open. I gesture in reply to leave it half way. He looks at me, holding my gaze for a heartbeat, eyes teary and red, and finally leaves without another word.

Good bye. I do not love you. Good bye. Here's the door. Leave it open. I have happiness to let back in to my life.

So long by Ingrid Michaelson:

You've made me into someone
Who should not hold a loaded gun
And now you sit upon my chest
Knock out my wind, knock out my best

And so long to no disasters
And mornings, too
And so long to ever afters
So long to you