“We haven’t talked in days. Does this mean we’re breaking up or we’re taking time apart?” I asked him in a text.
“I don’t really know. I’m not feeling too good today. I had too much of Charlie’s homemade plum wine last night.”
“I’ve been back and forth on the idea. We both deal with stress in unhealthy ways. But when we’re both happy, we’re good,” I said. “At least that’s what I think. I don’t know what you think.”
“Do what you think is good for you. I told you I’m not feeling good. If I want to talk about it, it’ll be tomorrow. Thanks.”
I hit a brick wall with him again. I’ve been hitting a lot of brick walls with him. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get anywhere. He was a 46 year old man with the emotional age of a 5 year old boy.
“Actually that kinda sounds like an answer to me,” I said. “Take care.”
Those were my last words to him. He had turned cold and unresponsive within a span of days. I realized I had put myself out on an emotional ledge, only to find that I was standing there all by myself.
I proceeded to delete him. I removed him from my address book. I deleted our chat history. I wanted no trace of him left. I didn’t want to leave any room for any second thoughts about what I was choosing to do.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated, so angry with myself. How could I have fallen in love so quickly and so deeply with someone who was a completely immature, selfish, narcissistic psychopath? How could I have let this man into my life? I will never know or understand.