i don't want to fall in love
this world is only going to break your heart
I want to fall in love again. I say this to myself at least once a day and then I backtrack when I think about all the things that falling in love entails. The falling part is great; it’s the landing that just doesn’t seem to stick for me.
Today marks the one year anniversary of my divorce being finalized. I didn’t know this, it popped up on Facebook in my memories. I wrote then “I am happy and sad and ready to move on with my life.” One year later, I’m still sad and still trying to move on. It’s not that I’m in love with him anymore, but I still do love him in some ways. I still do miss him. But mostly I miss the idea of him, I miss the comfort that comes from having someone in your life who treasures you, who meets your needs, who is a warm body next to you at night. I miss being in love with someone. My heart feels empty.
I’m trying to take stock of the year since the divorce was official. So many people told me to see the breakup of my marriage as a path to growth, as a learning experience. I did not grow, I can tell you that. I cried and I despaired and I seethed, but I did not grow. And the only thing I learned - upon deep introspection - is that our relationship wasn’t all I made it out to be in my mind and to others.
I look back on our life together and there are red flags all over the field. He was bossy and ego driven and a bit self centered. He was intolerant of other people’s flaws. He saw things his way and his way only. But I pushed that all aside because we were - at least for the first five years or so, truly in love. Once he started drinking, love fell by the wayside on his part; he existed only to get drunk. And once he got sober, all of his passion and free time went to AA. I could go on, but what purpose does that serve? I’ve looked back enough. I have seen the error of my ways, I see where I mistook gifts for love, where I let things slide because I refused to admit I made yet another mistake.
So I’ve spent the last year looking back on our fourteen years together. I’ve spent it feeling hollowed out and discarded. I’ve spent it brooding and listening to sad music and when I wasn’t sad I was angry. So angry. The way things unfolded was not fair to me. It wasn’t kind, it wasn’t amicable.
It was when I got sick and was hospitalized in July that I really started missing having someone to take care of me, to tell me everything was going to be ok, to hold me when I was feeling scared or anxious. I wanted someone to sit at my side in the hospital and hold my hand and give me ice chips and tell me they love me. But I was alone for the most part.
And that brings us to the worst and best part of the past year: being alone. There’s a loneliness that pervades; a stinging, biting loneliness that carries with it a sense of failure. It’s my fault I’m alone again. I’ve done something wrong. Some nights I crave companionship. A dinner out, a movie, playing a video game or just listening to music together. But there’s also a sense of peace there. I can watch what I want and eat when I want. I can sit on the couch and get high and watch hockey without feeling like I’m neglecting my partner. I have become my own person, instead of being his person.
But oh, how I miss being in reciprocal love. And that goes back more than a year. I would like some day to have that in my life again. I want to date, I want to go out with someone, I want to feel my heart beat out of my chest when that brushes their hand against mine. But I don’t want any of the trappings. I don’t want to share this space I’ve made for myself. I don’t want someone else in my bed taking up room where my dog now sleeps. I don’t want to have to shave my legs for anyone. What are the chances I could find someone who wants to date but never wants to marry or live together?
These things go through my head, over and over, until I convince myself that I’ll never find a settled kind of love again. I’ve been divorced three times. I am 60 years old and damaged goods. It’s time to make peace with the fact that love isn’t mine to have even though it is mine to give. I will focus my attention on my family, my mental health, my own personal space.
I can’t believe I have not seen him in almost two years. I have not spoken to him, not even a text, since July. I sit here and think about our past and sometimes I look at pictures of when we were happy and I wonder when he fell out of love with me and why. I have no closure and I’m not going to get it since he ghosted himself out of my life, and I have to learn to live with that. I also have to learn how to live with myself, alone. I think I’m making a good start.
Maybe I don’t actually want to fall in love again.