With extreme trust in our past and in the society that surrounds us we look to place it in one another.
Choices, you understand, are made in two ways. You can make it for someone, decide it for them, or shape it so there's no other way. Alternatively, you offer them the freedom to decide, leaving all options open, but hoping one stands correct. Perhaps it's you, striving to comprehend the chaos, your state of being unhinged. Cold feet before a hyper-directed but unbelievable change become a crux. The narratives you see and what gets conveyed are disparate stories.
Hoping for closure, it appears, is hoping for too much. You didn't believe her dreams were out of reach. They could be achieved, based on what she told you. No matter your position, you did your best to help them flourish, well attempted. Not best but not far enough off to be taken for the conspicuous closure. It was your job to try and be everything she deserved. Even if you weren't perfect break the cycle of mediocre misery from the previously mentioned.
You desired to spend your days in bed, particularly with her, but you had to evolve into the person she claimed she wanted. Your work, your studies, your responsibilities towards the dog, the work again, the driving, the friends, everything centered around your understanding of what she wanted. You wanted to open the door for her, for her to explore at her own pace. You didn't expect her to accept every invite, but if she were there, even if she was not enjoying it, you believed you could change the circumstances, change yourself.
You were willing to do anything she said, anything directed. You believed that was what drew her closer. But that did not transpire. Miscommunication, misinterpretations were rampant, and that was your failing. You hoped they would be corrected during your car conversations. But it was futile to believe that by giving everything, someone else would reciprocate even half of it.
The choices one makes for their being doesn't concern you. Every vessel has its own tendencies and needs. You could not comprehend how, even when offered a soft landing and a takeoff towards any direction, it was ignored. You and your friends were about to invite her that very evening. She could have been privy to it all, saved herself the trouble.
The thing that vexes you most is the act of someone mining for a read on your actions. You never once did anything more than 2° off from your landing spot. You recognize that all those might not be the best places to land. Yet, every missed shot you thought was a chance to adjust, turned out to be just a box checked for disregard.
You feel the sting, not from being disregarded or being thought of within confines, but from your futile attempts to bridge the chasm. You laid out your past experiences, your former loves, as breadcrumbs, hoping she would follow the trail to the thing you had both said you wanted. You placed your trust in her hands, yet the pain of betrayal was not the worst of it. The real wound came from your relentless effort to make things work within a brief time, always putting your best foot forward, albeit with a caveat that it wasn't truly your best. You sought conversations about the why, but those talks never transpired. Neither did any of the others that would have given sensible reasons to the problems brought up before. At least in your mind, that’s why you made them. That’s why you never had them.
You believe it's not your responsibility to ensure your friends decipher your intentions correctly, but you do think it's up to you to offer them the chance. Every action of yours holds the potential for understanding, if only they ask. You're human, of course, prone to mistakes. Yet the biggest one was thinking this endeavor itself wasn't a mistake.
You heard the excuses, that she was a broken soul caught in a repetitive loop. You'd seen it from the get-go, and you tried to be the person she desired, hiding the man who might be mistaken about a lot of things, but never when it comes to people. You, like the rest, communicate effectively through actions and body language.
Each negativity she presented, you took as a chance to delve deeper, to understand her better, to keep the dialogue alive. You believed there was something there, a spark worth exploring, even as you navigated your own barriers from what little was buttressed.
So what if even on the little things it was a no-fault, no correction, when does that occupation ever stray from that stereotype?
So what if she's one of the girls who've been talked about by a few of the boys, you didn’t care. You didn't think she was one of those. You had introduced them, believing they would not fall into that cycle. Yet, the trap sprang shut, teeth bared. The blood ran, and you realized your judgment was flawed. Regardless of other errors made, that was the bitter pill to swallow.
You had thought this was a completely different situation. You made plans, invited her to join in your adventures, craved her attention. Every glance she threw your way felt better than any conversation with another. That is until you realized she wasn't engaging with you, not really. Her body language spoke to an absent figure. If only you'd been informed, if there had been options on the table. You gave her monogamy, one of the things that was clearly stated, and your time and effort. The pain is sharper, the wound deeper when you remove that prick.
You're not claiming she did anything wrong, at least not from your perspective. The agony, however, stems from watching the wheels of her mind turn and the predictable unraveling that followed. Everyone else seemed to be nearing a shared understanding, gearing up for the next phase. Yet what really twists the knife is the stark reminder of your recent trials - a double blow of anniversaries of lost friends, a freshly ended relationship, your admitted struggle to regain your footing amidst physical pain in the ribs and a daily grueling work commute. You were not your best self, you confessed, yet were willing to give all you had, expecting to improve. Yet your communication faltered, the clear picture you hoped to present remained hazy. You did admit that, and try to change but there is too happy. At least for a time.
You're not part of that crowd because you're cool or have money or can provide certain goods. You're there because you've been a benefactor. You're aware of the impression left by the one of the two older men who vowed to woo her away from you on the first night. You're cognizant of the allure of wealth, the intoxicating pull of substances, but you can't reconcile these attractions with her earlier aversions. She was still within that fortnight of refusing offers, even as she partook as long as you weren’t present.
You recall that Seattle night, juggling your disappointment with the night, disappointment with your friends' behavior, her words, and her unhappiness. You sought to please her amidst the chaos. But your intoxicated outburst and later apology became just another data point. It was you, and it came with an explanation. But maybe you're wrong about it all.
The things she criticizes in her sister, yet repeats in her own relationships; the promise of sobriety only to veer off course for a wild, substance-fueled night that you weren't invited to; the conversations you attempted but were rebuffed. You were trying, ready to make adjustments, hoping to help her realize the dream you saw the first time you met her. Your friends saw her worth, too, before all this happened.
You rarely introduce women to this group because you often find yourself helping them before seeing them off. But when you see someone who could reciprocate that help, who needs something deeper, they become a surprise. Until now, you were known for bringing only the most incredible women around, much like her, practically perfect until their time to leave came. Yet she never left, she simply couldn't join in.
What hurts is that your friends held her in high esteem initially, assuming that the relationship was over after every meeting. You would have been content with that, with the non-committal. But you desired more from her, much like what you were prepared to give. That was your mistake, a mistake you fear repeating, a fear that chills you to the bone.
Even when she voiced a desire to halt proceedings, you assumed it was your deviation from her scant guidelines that had led her to this decision, didn't you? Your gravest miscalculation may have been believing she was the type to hint at what she wanted from life, at her aspirations, by subtly pointing to situational and environmental factors. Her actions suggested otherwise.
You admit to sprinkling in a few mistakes intentionally, alongside those that simply slipped out. Some to make you more likable, some to maintain your image as a reasonable, fallible human. You steer clear of violence, you never push the envelope too far with your humor. You understand that when your happiness is at stake, the decision invariably rests in someone else's hands. You stay loyal to the logic, yet far removed from the temptation. But now that the dust has settled, the real catalyst of that unexpected explosion was likely a misinterpretation of everything. You've been off the mark before, and you can err again - seldom with people though. You're usually spot on there. That’s the one thing you got. The characters you introduced into the narrative all turned out just as you had predicted, perhaps even surpassing their own expectations. Now you just had to get past your inadmissible thoughts.
Your thoughts of an explaining conversation, when the first slow down was mentioned, were the fantasies you never had. Sure there were action packers of things for sexual fantasies, and sure we each had our own, and yes there was no crossed agreement, probably any misunderstanding is on your side. But it still hurts to think if you were offering all of this to someone her she couldn't offer any to you.
Could it be that her hesitations weren't born from fear of change or the opportunity to make something work? Perhaps it wasn't a case of incorrect subjectivity in unfamiliar situations? It could all have been a grand misunderstanding though, right? This was the blame that was blame that always taken to avoid any procurement of negativity. But deep down, you're aware it all began with a grain of truth, right?
After all, that's what she said.