So on the flipside of me having fun, I’ve also been dealing with a lot of emotional baggage. I’m still going through a break-up and sometimes I feel like I’m also going through a reconciliation.
I’ve spent a lot of time emailing, talking to and skyping Mark over the past few weeks. That’s his name by the way. I’ve only ever called him “M” here and that was partly because I was referring to him as “Master”. But now he’s not my master, so I feel like he needs a proper name.
Funnily enough I’ve had two masters and both of them had the first name “Mark”. It’s like god decided that I couldn’t deal with more than one name and made it easy for me.
But I digress…Mark version 2.0 was the most non-emotional, non-empathetic, robot-like person I’ve ever known. If you ever spoke to him, you’d have to call into question whether he really was human and he said that during his 56 years on this planet, he has only cried on two occasions.
The first time was when we put the poodle pup to sleep. He came back into the house after carrying the pup’s lifeless body outside to the vet’s van so Jacque could be taken away for cremation, poured himself three fingers of scotch, neat in a glass and knocked it back then wiped the tears from his eyes.
The second time was during our marathon Skype session on Thursday night.
Quite frankly, it was disturbing to see him so emotional. I didn’t really know what to do, what to say. But in true form, I totally sucked at telling him anything face-to-face or screen-to-screen, as the case was, and end up sending him a long-winded email instead in which I just regurgitated everything I was feeling inside – no filters, no niceties, no censoring.
I felt awful.
His response was to thank me for finally being honest.
I’ve hinted at stuff, alluded to things, skirted around the issues at the core of our breakup but never really spelled them out before. If he was a girl, he would have read between the lines and got the message that I wanted to give him without being hurtful.
But he’s a boy and boys really do need shit to be written in red ink across their forehead.
I forget that all the time and continue to play my girlie game of saying stuff without really saying stuff and it just makes him frustrated beyond belief.
I can’t really remember everything that was said during our talk. I was upset, he was upset and there was a fair amount of raised voices at certain times. But what I do remember ridiculously clearly was when he looked at me with tears streaming down his face and said,
“I’m so passionate about you. You really don’t know how much I love you.”
Yeah…words a girl who has been responsible for breaking another man’s life apart and stomping on the pieces doesn’t want to hear.
But at the same time I did want to hear it.
He has offered me the real deal – unconditional love. He still loves me as I am despite the fact that I’ve fucked him up and destroyed everything he/we had.
And he doesn’t care about that. None of it matters.
All he wants is me.
Unfortunately, the only thing I can offer him is conditional love – conditional on the fact that he changes.
Because my indecisive, fucked up mind dithered and hmmm’ed and haaaarr’ed for a good two years and finally came to a decision that things needed to change. And in particular, he needed to change.
I can’t be with him if he doesn’t.
I don’t really believe that people can change for someone else. I think they need to change for themselves and because they want to. They need to commit and take responsibility and be answerable to themselves. Because otherwise they will resent being made to change.
So I was a bit torn in telling Mark what I wanted. On one hand he was desperate for the truth and on the other hand, I knew that telling him would make him want to change for me.
But I spilled my guts and put down all the ugly, hurtful things that were inside my mind into an email that I regretted almost the very instant that I sent it.
But as I said, he thanked me for finally telling him why I left. I think he’d been churning things over in his mind wondering what it was about my new life that he couldn’t be a part of.
The downtown apartment, the social activities, the getting out and about, the new friends. I’d given all those things as reasons for why I had needed to leave. He wanted to know why it was that he couldn’t be a part of all of that.
Of course, there’s no reason.
No reason other than him.
So he has embarked on a mission to become Mark version 3.0 – new and improved, in the hopes that we can get back together. It’s going to take time, but he has already made some very positive changes.
In the meantime, I’m still on my Rumspringa and will continue to try and figure out what it is that will make me happy.