Be a better person

I asked him to release me a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t stand the agony of waiting for the other shoe to fall (the first being his engagement or more so that he ‘sleeps’ with her). Like normal, I cried my appeal but I did add that I will wait for him to say it instead of forcing him to do it. I knew he had to process it so I let our affair continue as before. There is a possibility that I will meet him at the end of July 2014. I am hoping that he will give me my ‘last kiss’ and then tell me goodbye. I am not sure he will. At this point however, I am ready to say my goodbye to him.

The other day he mentioned that I make him a better man because I a a good person. I set his examples that he follows. In some way I think that is a cop-out; a sort of rationale to why he can release me, in other ways I think he is preparing himself for what he will do. I still have hope that he will choose me but I have always been a dreamer.

Like I said in an earlier post: Love is Not Enough.

Him

Why do I love him?

I have asked myself this question for some time now. I have tried to be introspective in the last couple of months to fix what is ‘wrong’ with me. Not that I have anything seriously wrong with me but I believe we all have things to fix about ourselves. For me, it is the question of ‘what is love?’.

I had sex for the first time when I was 11.5. Yes, I know that is awfully young, too young. I may give the details of that later but for now let me just say that I put into action what I had thought at an even earlier age. I wish someone would have explained to me the difference between sex and love at that time in my delicate life. I was 41 when a young man, in a course of years, finally showed me.  It does sound strange how my life works. I do one thing too young and another at a very late age. Tells you a little about me; I am unconventional.

So … back to the question. Why do I love him? Maybe I should rephrase that to: Why do I love him still? He knows me but not what I am doing or going through or my plans. No, he knows how I think or feel. I wonder if that is enough. He doesn’t necessarily listen to me, possibly because I ramble (like I am doing now). He doesn’t remember what I say.

Let me change this up. I like the way his arms are around me. The touch of his skin against mine. I like his voice; I could listen to him for hours and I have. I like his looks; he complains that I stare at him. I do. I like the way he smells when he is back from the gym, first thing in the morning, after he applies his cologne, out of the shower, and … well, all the time. I don’t hate him even when I have cause to.

I would do anything for him but I wonder what he would do for me? That isn’t true. I know what he won’t do for me and I guess that is why I am writing this. Because I don’t know what to do about it. I am planning to leave him; though the process is complicated. I want him to leave me. I need him to leave me because then, he won’t contact me and I can be free. Does that sound strange?

He is engaged to be married and we still have a relationship (yes, intimate). He says that he still wants me in his life as a partner, a lover, a confidant. And yet, he refuses to give me what I want: him. I know, I am not making sense. Let me tell you the whole story, that might help.

In January 2006, I met a guy online. He was cute and young, only 24 to my 42. I am not sure if you call this my mid-life crisis. This was the year my son would turn 18. This was the year I would leave my husband after 20 years of marriage. I wasn’t scared or excited just determined.I met him in a chat room: Older Women for Younger Men’s chat site. He is from Canada but he moved there when he was 6 from war torn Sri Lanka by way of England. I accidently fell in love with him but he accidently fell in love with me. Here is the point; I respected him and still do.

I think something might have snapped after my brother’s death.  I did try to lean on my ex-husband and he was more than willing to coddle me since his sister had died recently but I couldn’t. I did love the ex to a point but my husband was not my friend nor someone I respected. He was working by this time selling post-production sound to independent producers but I never got over the hurt I felt for those lost years of working so many hours that I didn’t get a chance to raise my son (his mother did), the house was in my name but It wasn’t my kitchen or my things in it (his mother had that right). I wanted to be a wife and mother but instead, I was the bread winner and I couldn’t wait for things to be right again. I guess I was waiting for the other shoe to fall. I promised my brother on his death bed (literally) that I would survive.

So in late March 2006, I moved out. Ok, actually, I was kicked out by my then husband and son. They had had enough of my shenanigans. I don’t really blame them. I was more a paid boarder than a resident. I moved in with my sister-in-law and my nehews. She took me in and cared for me and we cried about my brother and we both carried on. This is the true beginning of my life. I quit smoking, I quit television, I quit surviving and started to live. The guy I met online who barely knew me was with me, virtually and telephonically, every step of the way and so was my sister-in-law. I found a great apartment in Culver City and a good job as an Executive Secretary. My then estranged husband and I sold the house for $550,000, a profit of $350,000 which we split. I bought a sports car (Honda S2000 yellow convertible that I named Friskey) and some other materialistic things.

I first met my online lover for the first time on Labor Day 2006 at the John Wayne International Airport for 45 minutes. I was not disappointed. He was more handsome in person than online. We kissed and yeah, it was magical. He told me later that the kiss was the deciding factor or categorizing me as wife material versus girlfriend material. I visited him in Toronto for Thanksgiving but again for only 45 minutes. At the time I didn’t understand his hesitation, oh hell, I still don’t understand but we will get to that later. He decided on a whim that he would spend the weekend with me in December. I picked him up at the airport and we spent a very ‘comfortable’ weekend together. [The quote is to be discussed between adults and in person] Our official first date and the start of a long distance relationship that still continues. From 2006 to August 2007 we carried on with the long distance the best we could though it did work, we both knew there had to be more but with any relationship hardships had to be overcome. In June 2007, I had the bright idea that he could get a student visa which would allow him to move to California or I could move to Buffalo, NY to make the distance shorter and our physical time together less strenuous. He agreed to move. Hence the start of my education. We went to West Los Angeles College together. He is a very intelligent person and great with academics. He pushed me to strive to be better. For three years we were poor but happy. We both grew together. I never realized that I could love. I mean, I never confused sex with love but this life I was living showed me a world I never knew. He is not an easy person to live with but because I love him, it wasn’t that difficult a life.

We applied to Columbia University. He got in! I didn’t but I was accepted to City College of New York (who accepts 90% of applicants). We spent another three years together living in a small university housing in Manhattan. It wasn’t that big of a culture shock. I spent years bashing NYC because I was an Angelino but If you look on my Facebook, you will see I have named New York as my home city. As I mentioned, I don’t do well going to school and working. His parents paid for his education and housing and expenses. I contributed what I could. I cooked and cleaned and tended to his needs in exchange for my education.

He won’t marry me. I mentioned that he is Sri Lankan. He is Hindu and Brahma class. His parents are community socialites in Toronto. They see the world through their status and their children are a direct reflection of their position in the community. So, I don’t fit in. We are now up to February 2013. He comes back from winter break in Toronto and I come back from visiting my parents who now live in Roebuck, South Carolina. We arrive at the airport together and take a taxi home. Like normal after long breaks, we strip off our clothes and hop into bed for a couple of hours. We have had these honeymoons at least once a year since 2007. That night he explained to me that his parents want him to break it off with me. Though they did not know anything about me other than my name and that I was older than him, they worried about his future. His parents also asked about me more in detail though he was vague in his recount. Knowing him, he probably gave limited answers to their limited questions. I didn’t start crying until he told me that he agreed with them. I wasn’t mad at him just sorely disappointed in him. I wanted to leave but I had nowhere to go; we both had one semester left til we graduated with honors. I was stuck. I got mad and started looking into master’s programs but because I did not do the GRE, I couldn’t apply in the United States and hell if I was going to Canada. I found England and applied to the University of Manchester. It is ranked 40^th in the World on the lowest charts and 13^th in the highest. I couldn’t graduate from an US Ivy but I could from a world recognized ivy.

About a week after we came home I found a love letter on his computer. He was using mine to play World of Warcraft (we both play actually but his laptop’s processor was burning up). I didn’t write the love letter but out of respect I didn’t read it but skimmed mostly the dates: June 2012. I was livid and he was caught. He explained that it was all for show to their community. ‘She’ is also a Sri Lankan Tamil of the same caste with a respectable family. But it did not explain her love letter. He said he didn’t mean for that to happen but that he only loves me. We got into a heated argument, if you count my excessive crying and storming out the door. I must have smoke half a pack of cigarettes in the hours I spent at the park next to where we lived. I didn’t come back any clearer but I did realize that he does love me and fact is fact: I am good enough for him but not his family. [I still don’t get that part no matter how often I say it.] Two days later I asked permission to use his laptop and after being assured I would find nothing, he accidently left his Facebook open. There was his status: In a relationship with her since June 2012. Now I not only had a name, I had a face and because of that I could call her a ‘she’. She was a real person with real feelings and I evidently was not. I yelled at him and walked out again. He found me brought me back into our small apartment and I cried some more. Honestly, I haven’t stopped crying.

I left New York on May 25^th, three days before my graduation ceremony. His brother was coming to help him pack and I couldn’t be there. Wasn’t allowed to be there or words to that effect. I went to my parent’s home and prepared to move to England. He and I talked over the summer but never about our relationship. He wanted us to stay friends but never officially ended our courtship until September 8^th when I forced him to say the words. I knew they were coming but it didn’t make the pain any less challenging to bear. We still talk daily and tomorrow I will confront him again because while I do not want to lose him in my life, I don’t know how to handle my pain. I want to start living again but it is difficult to compare everyone with him. He is my first love and probably my last.

I thought he could tell me anything but that was a lie. One day in December, I stalked her facebook page to find a picture of them together with his arm around her. I knew knew they were engaged. I called him, 4am his time – I didn’t care. I yelled at him; I cried. I was so hurt because he didn’t tell me the truth but more because the ring was never going to be on my finger. I wanted to die from the heart break but I couldn’t take the only child my parents had left. I would have killed them as well.

It was months before we talked again and then the relationship turned torrid and exciting because it was illicit. I will admit that I was also sexually aroused; we have that in common. I am not sure what he finds more exciting, the affair behind her back or that we are breaking the social rules of his community.

I think I just needed to get this off my chest. Maybe by placing this here, I can do what I have to do. I went from surviving to living. What is my next step? Dying?