There was a small reference to drama in my last post that was external to us.

As I expected when it happened, I knew it would affect him deeply and meaningfully.  It did.

He derailed completely.

Late thursday night, he drunkenly picked a fight with me via text that — in the heat of the moment — I interpreted as a finality.  At one point, he texted “leave me alone.”  In fact, I announced to my friends that I was now single.

I even made a date with someone else on Friday, which I did not keep.

Friday, I asked him — before I accepted the date — if he wanted to meet me for a drink.  He declined with a simple “No”.

Instead, I went out with PRJR, then W and JF, and was home asleep on my sofa by 11.

Saturday, I went out with a new girlfriend.  We barhopped across town, had the best time, and she slowly talked me down off the ledge.  She also appointed herself on BV watch — keeping a keen eye out for this handsome, well-coiffed man who frequents all the same places we were visiting.

She encouraged me to call him or text him, but I declined, knowing that we got into a fight, which might last for a while, but we were not under any circumstances done.

Actually, that took me time.

I was rather convinced we were done, especially at the time, but the more I thought about it, the dumber I realized I was being.

I know the Bon Vivant.  I have known him nearly 10 months.  He was hurt — not by me — he sought solace in unhealthy ways — I tried to help and failed — he lashed out at me — I gave him space — he worked it out.

In the grand scheme of our interactions, I was the only one who was truly wrong.  Should he have been a dick to me via text? No.  Did he think he was risking our relationship while doing so? No.

I immediately and reflexively decided we were done, told people, and made other plans.

I lacked faith that I knew better, lacked faith in him, lacked faith in us.

I should have known better.  I should have known that he just derailed in the face of almost unfathomable betrayal and an onslaught of hours of mental abuse via text by a now-former friend.  I should have known he’d be okay.  I should have known he’d reach out when he was.

Even in the midst of his pain, he responded to me.  Rather than ignoring me, he responded back.  Tersely, to be sure, but he responded.

The old BV would have disappeared for weeks.

This BV responded back, noted that I went silent, and then reached out, rather adorably a day later.

We did not speak on Saturday, which is the only day we’ve not been in touch since he’s been back.  Even fighting, we were still together.

Why it took me two days to figure this out is beyond me.

He knew we we were fine; I freaked out.

This was an excellent reminder of the fact that I am just as much of a big baby as he.  My feelings were hurt, so I decided to petulantly move on.

I need to have faith in him, in us, and in our life together.

 

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