I think I am finally drilling down why I am heartbroken about a man I did not date for very long, or to be honest, very seriously for the bulk of our relationship:

  1. No closure.
  2. Super-intense.
  3. Lies.

No closure.

I’ve had zero closure.  It was there — in a spectacular, glorious sex-fueled romp that ended with our very public hanging out with lots of my friends and then our recommitting to each other — and then, it was gone.  Nothing from him, despite his promise to call me.


Part of the appeal of the Bon Vivant is the intensity he brought to everything.  I could be in his world for hours or for days and every time was the absolute best or the absolute worst — sometimes in the same evening.


For a man who prided himself upon and founded our relationship upon honesty — even when it hurt or was counter-productive — he lied to my face on that last day. Repeatedly.  His lies were somewhat understandable as he tried to limit damage, but the fact that he had always been even painfully honest made it hurt more.


Being outside of that is like being addicted to a drug you can no longer access.  I am going through withdrawal and some days are better than others.  I am not certain I will ever be fully the same.

As time goes on, it’s not getting much easier.  In fact, sometimes, I am more hurt, incapable of believing someone who said he loved me could cut me out of his life entirely.  I thought we were more than that.  Even if we were angry, we were more than that and bigger than that.

Until we weren’t.

It is only a matter of time until I see him again. We live in the same world.  We go to the same places.  We go at the same times.  I’ve bumped into him randomly before and it’s only a matter of time until it happens again.

I haven’t exactly been sure how I wanted to react: a wave from across a crowded bar, a watrm hug, an air hug, a handshake, a tight smile & nod, no acknowledgement at all?

I’ve run through each scenario — where we could be, what we would be doing, how I would react.  It’s all different depending on external circumstances.  If I am on a date — or if he is — and how crowded where we are is.  My goal would be to greet him warmly as a friend.  The reality: who knows.

I miss him.  I miss how it felt to be with him.  I acknowledge how wildly unhealthy being with him had been.

Dealing with him . . . it was always going to end badly.  It did.

I am still dealing with fallout.  I mentioned to M last night that I was not entirely over it, and he was supportive, acknowledging that he didn’t expect me to be.  He’d been with us.  He understood the depth of the connection and the heights of the fun.

It’s still raw, it still hurts, and every time I go downtown into his neighborhood — which is every time I go downtown — I worry a bit about whether I will see him.

In this city, many men look like him and walk like him and have his mannerisms.  He’s not a unique snowflake.  He’s like every tech guy or filmmaker or creative agency executive.  He’s short, short-haired, often lazily bearded yet meticulously groomed (brows, teeth, sideburns are all perfect), in expensive jeans and an interesting jacket or sweater.  He looks like everyone, but more handsome and more gay.

As I walk downtown, I see him but not him 5 times in two blocks.  And every time I see him but not him, I gird myself for the inevitable greeting/rejection/symphony of suck that awaits.  In times of crisis and conflict, I press on.  I go forward into danger and discomfort every time.  I always engage.

This will go well.