He says the spark is gone, which I find unnerving, because for me, it’s still there: I even count the minutes until I can expect to see him arrive home. I like to be close to him. I kiss him, touch him, tell him I need him… and need him, I do.
For me, still, he might as well be the only man in the world. He’s certainly the best, in my eyes, and the only one I feel I could ever love, admire and trust so totally. I wouldn’t want another man. I couldn’t.
BUT: it’s clear I’ve been deluded and the spark is really just me insisting on lighting a match over and over.
The spark is gone, he says. It’s over and there’s no going back.
Maybe he never felt it the way I did. Never felt the butterflies in his hands as he tried to busy himself, knowing he would see me in a matter of hours. Never felt sick at the thought of parting. Certainly never cried at the thought of me being lost to him forever.
I remember once, before we were together, standing in a freezing street, searching the crowds for his face. In desperation – once I knew he wasn’t coming – I squinted at someone until I could make myself believe this person was really my beloved. Just so I could imagine that perhaps, later, we could chat. That perhaps attending this event wasn’t pointless because my beloved wasn’t there. (Fact: it’s much easier to squint and pretend when everyone is buried deep inside coats, hats and scarves.)
I remember him kneeling on the floor, once, beside me, deep in prayer: “Lord, let me marry this woman.”
It’s been a hard road, and the difficulties have taken their toll, but my beloved’s prayer has been answered. I am here, I love him, and I would do anything to be the best partner I can be. I would give anything to be his wife and I feel certain I’d be the best wife he could have.
I will never have a chance, though, because he’s made up his mind and it’s his choice, and his choice alone.
Just like every other time he’s left me, I don’t get a choice. I just sit and try to swallow the pain. The only choice I have is in how I cope.
But let me just say, those fabulous BPD abandonment issues, extreme emotions and tendencies to self-harm are making my “choices” seem pretty horrible right now.
I love him. I want him to stay. That’s all.