I have always been a runner.
In my teen years I occasionally got so hooked onto guys only to realize that they were never actually that into me. After a couple of failed attempts, I chose never to let anyone in again unless heaven sent me a letter informing me that an angel meant for me … and I mean only ‘me’, had just dropped on planet earth.
As a result, whenever things start to get serious, when they start to feel permanent, I normally head for the exit ASAP.
Now, when I completed university, I was so proud of myself and I believe God was too, because I got blessed with a job immediately.
One day, I was at work, totally bored – and I decided to flirt with one of the guys just to pass time. In the middle of our conversation, he asked, “So, I’ll see you on Thursday, yeah?”
“What’s happening on Thursday?” I asked him.
“We’re going out.”
I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do. I loved that he was so confident. But of course I noticed he had mistaken my harmless flirtations out of boredom as intent. At that time however, his self-assurance swept me away. We’d barely had two conversations and I wondered why he was suddenly so interested.
Being the self-acclaimed neurotic, I immediately said no, because that confidence only meant he asked out ladies regularly. And I didn’t want to waste my time with a player. But he laughed, refusing to take a no for an answer, and I had no choice.
In the end, I was glad that I went.
I hadn’t been on a date in a while. I was 23 years old. I wanted to feel sexy and confident. I wanted to impress him, even though I wasn’t eager about being in a relationship. I tried to stop thinking, tried to reassure myself that this was a fun, normal experience. That it was all part of having fun, and it wasn’t serious, that it didn’t mean anything.
We enjoyed the evening together and after our date he took me to his house. Things were starting to move a little bit fast, but I told myself not to panic since this was nothing serious.
He wanted to pick a jacket and then drop me at my place.
Days, weeks, months went by, we grew fond of each other but after a year he was fired from work and he did not get another job.
This guy was pretty much perfect; kind, considerate, handsome, affectionate, generous, head over heels in love with me. So in love with me, that it scared me. How could he get so invested? He said he wanted to build his life around me. The thought scared me.
I am down to earth, practical, a career first kind of girl.
I want to build my life around a place, a job, a career. Once all that is settled, most probably I will finally meet my angel, fall in love and maybe even settle down.
But with this guy aboard, it wasn’t going as planned. Love happened first.
I was unsure whether to keep it. Unsure because the longer I was with him, the more in love with me he would be, yet all the while I was not sure if I would stay in the relationship.
I was unsure if he would fit into all the plans I had set for my future or not. And because I was afraid, because he was blameless, I started picking little fights, being stand-offish, secretly hoping to send him over the edge and force him to break up with me, because I was too cowardly to be the bad guy. But I couldn’t push him away like the others, he would see through it and hold tight. It filled me with happiness and broke my heart at the same time.
It took me a month to finally break up with him.
I had to justify it to myself. Finally, I convinced myself that I could never be loyal to him. I was not yet there. Not ready to commit.
But even after breaking up with him … I surely knew I had broken a heart that truly loved me.
Currently am in a dilemma and I keep wondering; people that are like me, and run away when they get scared of the intensity of their feelings or the feelings of the one they’re with, is it really fair? Do you regret running away? Or is it better for you in the long run, and less hurtful to the person you leave?
To the people that get left behind, do you wish he or she had stayed? Or was leaving you the best thing they ever did for you in the end?
I just want to put it out there that it’s not that I feel I don’t deserve to be loved. I just don’t want to put my heart in it and end up with a bloody heartbreak. The last time it hurt like hell.
It has been seven months since we broke up but I am afraid how madly and selflessly he still loves me. It’s like … till now I’m his air or something. It’s frightening, but thrilling. So I keep telling myself maybe I should give love a chance. But what if I end up loving him too much and at some point we break up again?
I can’t afford wounding my ‘healing heart’ again.