Greeting friends and readers!
A lot has happened since my last posting. After having, what I felt like, a beautifully, heavenly and soul-stirringly great love, that love has ended. Or, rather, that relationship has ended. My love still continues on.
Life was beautiful. Life was brilliant. Life was perfect. And after months of beauty, romance and love, after listening to my love express her poetic love for me and her deep desire to marry me one day, I took the leap and I proposed. I proposed in the most romantic, heartfelt and loving way that I could imagine: at the Magic Fountains of Mont Juic in Barcelona, Spain. And she said, "Yes!" The ring was perfect (and designed entirely by myself with the help of some jewelers). And for a brief time, I thought all of our dreams were coming true. This was the start of an engagement, a wedding, a home and a family. What could be better than that with the woman of my dreams, the love of my life and my best friend?
But shortly after we returned home from Barcelona, I was heartbroken. My love had fallen in love with another, completely unbeknownst to me. And I was broken. And I am still broken. Though she loved me, and I still believe she does, and though I loved her and I still do, I asked her to leave. She needed time to search her soul. So she left and we agreed to keep reconciliation in mind for our future.
But in the end, I felt like she may have wanted to explore her feelings for "The Other". And I lost my fucking mind. I said and did horrible, horrible, hurtful things to drive her away for good. And the thing is, I made a monumental mistake. Because the truth is that I didn't (and still don't) want to drive her away for good.
You may be saying to yourself, "Is Miss-Adventures fucking crazy?!" It's ok. I've wondered that myself. But the truth is that from the outside perspective, no one understands or could begin to understand the relationship we had, the love we shared or the strength of our bond. Yes, she made a huge mistake. And yes, I've made huge mistakes. But love and relationships are never black and white. There are more shades of grey in love than a Pablo Picasso masterpiece. And what I always have felt was a "deal-breaker" turns out to not be so. The capacity to forgive and move forward is as great as my love for her runs deep.
But, as she begins to move forward with her life, her love and her happiness, so shall I. And so, with great trepidation and absolute unpreparedness, I have decided to give dating another try. I won't lie; I still hold onto hope that my love will return. That she'll return with the same willingness and fortitude to mend our broken relationship that I still possess. But I know that those chances are very, very slim.
And so my long list of mistakes may grow longer still. I don't know that I'm ready to date again. How much can one offer a person when her heart is so chained to another? But here we go...
I had my first date with someone new just a few days ago. I've decided to open myself up to dating both women and men this time around. "Men?!", you may be asking. Yes, men. Because why limit the possibilities that I could be made happy by someone simply because I've spent the last eight years with women? And so, my first date was with a very sweet man. "The Irishman" was flirty and confident, silly and confident, and persuasive and confident. Did I mention that he was confident? I told him that I was unsure about dating again because of my very recent heartbreak and because I am still utterly devastated over my breakup. And The Irishman offered me a date AND a shoulder to cry on...so I agreed.
We met at a cafe and spent about an hour talking and getting to know each other over coffee and tea. He was cute, charming and had the most adorable dimples I've ever seen on a grown man. After coffee and tea, we walked back to my house where we sat talking and listening to music. He was easy to be around and very comforting. And I let myself be comforted by a man who knew nothing about me, except for my emotional torture over losing the one person who meant everything to me. And then he kissed me. And, as much as I wanted to let myself go and let myself be carried away from my grief by someone who desired me, I could not. We kissed and cuddled for hours but I could not get my love out of my mind. I kissed him but pictured her. I wanted to be swept away from my pain and loneliness but I only felt the guilt of those lips on mine not being her lips. So I apologized and politely asked The Irishman to leave.
I don't know what the future holds for me. I know what I want, and that is for my love to return. I also realize that those chances are as slim as they can possibly be. And so, with great trepidation, uncertainty and even panic, here we go again...
Say a little prayer for me, won't you? Wish me luck? And join me on this journey again. Heart in hands, like the romantic I am, vulnerable, hurting, heartbroken and grieving my lost love... Here we go again.