I used to think that there was just one person out there for me. Just one. The hard part was trying to find that one person. I mean, isn’t there six billion people out there? What if the one person I am supposed to be with is in Madagascar!? I don’t have any plans to go to Madagascar! This thought used to send me into a panic. Often I would think about who this person might be.
Initially I thought it was Kevin. Years ago I loved Kevin. Part of me still loves Kevin and always will. He was essentially the first person I loved and told. He is the first person I kissed, fell in love with, and the first person who broke my heart. In between our first break-up, I figured I could change just like Alice so that I could go through my own Happily Ever After door.
We all know Alice’s pain because of the drink and biscuit but I didn’t care. I was willing to mold myself into being Kevin’s perfect girlfriend. In fact, the joke is that I am mold-able. I am so mold-able that I can’t even remember what I’m like.
It took me a year to completely get over Kevin. Of course towards the end of our actual relationship I had stopped having romantic feelings for him but my feelings towards him were of dependency and possessiveness. How was I supposed to live without him? Who was going to guide me? Who would make my decisions for me? If he wasn’t with me then who would he be with? I couldn’t get my brain around those thoughts without feeling as if I was drowning in the ocean. These are the questions that I would ask myself for almost a year when I realized I had continued to live on and in fact, I was my own guide, my own decision maker. This allowed me to go out and date. I was free to date anyone that I fancied. Ironically, I had more sex than I did dates. e.g. booty calls, one-night stand with an Irishman. Ah! Liam, I shall never forget you. Or is it Neil? Niall? Fuck. Essentially I learned to separate my lust and love. I learned to keep my vulnerability protected. At least I thought I was protected. But my protection barrier fell apart when I met Zach.
A part of me wants to believe that I knew who I was when I was with Zach. There is such an obsessive sadness that I carry when I think about Zach. And embarrassingly I have begun to stalk him via the internet. Yes, I have become that crazy ex-girlfriend. That’s right, go ahead put my photo next to the definition of crazy. Respond with crazy jokes, I don’t mind because it’s accurate.
Sometimes I want my physical body to be so exhausted that I give out just so I can sleep without thinking about him. Is this what real love is? I mean I was with him for three months and now I’ve been moping for two. Or is this my bruised vulnerability? This is my ego right? How dare he reject me?! I’m fucking fantastic just ask all the other men before him… that. also. broke. up. with. me. Seriously, I have reviews!
“Even if this all goes to hell, I want you to know that you were the best thing to ever happen to me and I miss you.” – Kevin
But back to Zach, when I was with Zach I felt loved; I felt beautiful. He wasn’t afraid to hold my hand in public and often sought me out. I was being wooed which I mean in every sense of the word. He is a gentleman. He would open car doors for me. He would get my seat during dinner. Zach is a beautiful man. He still is. Even though he told me many times that I simply had bad taste in men. Everything that I thought I didn’t want Zach proved to me that I deserved. But how could I ever tell him that I wanted him, that I deserved him?
I told him a lot about my life, where I was in it emotionally, physically, and intellectually. I opened a lot which was unusual. To me, he was someone who I connected to; I could be myself. To me he was perfect. This scared him. He once told me that he was worried that I wasn’t seeing any of his bad traits. It’s true.
I made myself vulnerable. He rejected me. I shut down. I refused to cry. I still haven’t. There are tears in me that I have not shed. I probably will never shed them. I am like Cora from Once Upon a Time. I must hide my heart in order to keep going. If I hide my bruised vulnerability, will I open up again? Right now I don’t think I will. Honestly, even if somehow the stars and planets were to align and I somehow ended up with Zach again, I wouldn’t be vulnerable. Who I was two months again isn’t who I am today. I can’t use potions and cake to be that person again.
I am not the Alice of old who used potions and cakes to go through her door. I am the modern Alice behind the wheel of truck with a wrecking ball attached to it. I am demolishing that itty-bitty door. My Happily Ever After door is larger because I am larger.