It was, I think, the last night we spent together in LA. In the morning I’d be flying home to New York and then, a day later, M would be taking off for the first of two back to back business trips. First, he’d be in Europe for a couple of weeks and then Miami for a month.
We had no concrete plans to see each other after I left. No plans for the future. And I’d started to suspect that his move to New York wasn’t ever happening.
But that night I slept peacefully in his arms, feeling safe and secure. In fact, I look back at that as one of the best nights of my life (though, I’m not really talking about the sleeping part).
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to explain to myself or anyone else how I could’ve felt so safe amidst so much uncertainty. All I know is that I trusted M. Completely. That he’d earned my trust. And that I felt like, if there was one thing in the world that I could count on, it was that he’d never hurt me.
Flash forward a month or so and I was crying a lot. M and I were barely speaking. He’d asked me to come down to Miami to visit him and when I got there he spent the weekend not looking at me. Looking past me. Acting like a stranger.
No security there.
And now it’s a little more than 2 years later and we’ve been on a silly merry-go-round of speaking and not-speaking and hating and loving. I’ve come to the realization, more than once, that we just can’t work together. That our feelings for each other are irrelevant. But I keep on coming back for one more try.
I want more than anything else to just be able to lie in his arms and feel safe again but I’m not sure that’s even possible. Ever. And the funniest part is, the harder I try to make it work, the more elusive it seems.
Maybe it really is too late?
I don’t know. Or, I’m not sure…
Tags: exes, feelings