Post by miyagibonsai on May 10, 2023 5:01:54 GMT
TLDR version here but helpful if you read it all through and through. TLDR: First love from 23 years ago DA; me, AP. Met offline, he moved here, ghosted me entirely. But now I get the feeling I might be that elusive "phantom ex" and it's hard to let go.
Long Version:I want to keep this as succinct as I can--but the experience itself is so detailed, that my therapist is encouraging me to at least consider making it into a novella. (I'm an amateur writer, working on self-publishing and a tutor.)
For the record, and please do not show shade or judgment (I'm doing this enough on my own and for the longest time) I've got a first serious love/relationship from the year 2000--yes, 23 years ago--that still haunts me to this very day.
We met off the internet--after speaking for six months long distance on the phone, through the mail, and online, he moved from his state 2,000 miles away from me to pursue a relationship. I was 16, he was 20--scandalous, I know, and clandestine from my family due to their disapproval overall with me talking to someone online.
He moved here August 2000. Again: It was my first serious relationship, and his also as strange as that might sound. Both virgins when we got together. All of August and September while he was here, there were no major issues or red flags. I always had anxiety we could be found out, but we handled our shit. The affection, the communication, the good times spent out together abruptly seized around the first of October. I would try and ask, without pestering, what was wrong. "Oh, nothing baby. Everything is fine." Meanwhile--his apartment was immaculate. Warning bells, but I carried on. It was junior year of high school, after all--I had college SATs to prep for, a part time job, etc. I tried keeping it cool. But over the next week to ten days, we began having arguments. Petty ones. Ones where I couldn't recognize this man anymore. Never called me names or swore at me; but man, the cutting remarks and icy glare. When he wasn't acting stupid, I'd let myself into his place and find him gazing into the television losing himself in a comedy. Lights were on, nobody was home.
One week, two weeks prior to Halloween, I had this deep, enveloping fear. I didn't know what it was or where it was coming from. This week I lost all appetite, all sleep, all concentration. Then: ". Sit down. I've got to tell you something." BOOM. "Yes? What is it?" In a flat tone, yet meeting my eyes for the first time in weeks, he replies, "I have to go back home."
He claimed his Gramah was sick with leukemia. (That part was actually true--she passed in 2003.) My eyes welled up. Yet; I hugged him and expressed sorrow for his Gramah. But once he told me the WHEN part--I lost my absolute shit. "When are you going back? Next month?" Nope. Try again. "No baby, next week. Mom and Derrick <name changed> are coming up to help me move." At that point, it was no holds barred. I railed. I cried. I threw my hairbrush at the wall of his living room.
When he left, I asked him for a breakup. No way we were going to survive. He insisted he still loved me. We would "make it work." Do you think he could call me to let me know they made the three day drive back safely? No. I waited nearly a WEEK and chased him. I got a different person as soon as he answered the line. "Yeah; we made it. Yeah; love you too." Three months later, just shy of my 17th birthday, he broke it off with me officially over the phone. No apology. No reasons. Not even an excuse. Just, "your friends are right--I am not in love with you anymore."
Throughout the years, after space, time, us going through different partners, and even him visiting me three times after I graduated high school, we've always been able to maintain a friendship. But: He goes through phases that he never used to be so flagrant about before. He'll call me or text. Sometimes, it's a surface-level conversation. Sometimes, it's a just-checking-in. And then there are other times where he REALLY puts himself on the line. Eight hour long conversations about how he never actually lost feelings, that if things don't work out in my life, I always have a place with him. But these convos are only ever initiated by him; rarely when I initiate a text or call, does he respond. He'll take anywhere from (shortest time) 3 weeks to touch base, to 3 MONTHS. The longest span of time was probably a few years when he was engaged to a lady near him. That fell apart and when asked casually, (DAs run scared on emotional topics unless they bring them up, which even then they'll fuck off for a good while afterwards) what happened? He just very casually, "pass the salt and pepper" tone replied: "Oh, nothing major. Just didn't work out. No big deal." Apparently it was. He's only been in a grand total of three serious relationships--this woman he was with for six years.
Baffled. I know I should work towards becoming secure enough where it doesn't bother me; or, if I don't have the capacity to do so, then cut the cord entirely. I just can't seem to shake this dude. For what it's worth, there came a point in my life where I was under a crisis unrelated to this man in anyway at all, where I blocked on all fronts for nearly a solid year and getting to a state of indifference or at least letting go of picking apart my own flaws subsided.
What makes this all the more convoluted is--I'm not missing the him that he is NOW. I do not miss the sudden shockwave of being dumped in an ice cold bath water after a searing hot sunburn. The very fact I told him so many years back before knowing attachment styles existed that he needed to change his outlook and attitude on people in general and his eruption! Therapist says I'm in a temporary state of limerence. We don't know what all triggered these sudden feelings, but they gripped me hard and fast for about a week now. Fact is, even IF I entertained the idea of reuniting some day, seeing as to how he is staunchly opposed to his problems, it would only mean me pandering to him.
Long Version:I want to keep this as succinct as I can--but the experience itself is so detailed, that my therapist is encouraging me to at least consider making it into a novella. (I'm an amateur writer, working on self-publishing and a tutor.)
For the record, and please do not show shade or judgment (I'm doing this enough on my own and for the longest time) I've got a first serious love/relationship from the year 2000--yes, 23 years ago--that still haunts me to this very day.
We met off the internet--after speaking for six months long distance on the phone, through the mail, and online, he moved from his state 2,000 miles away from me to pursue a relationship. I was 16, he was 20--scandalous, I know, and clandestine from my family due to their disapproval overall with me talking to someone online.
He moved here August 2000. Again: It was my first serious relationship, and his also as strange as that might sound. Both virgins when we got together. All of August and September while he was here, there were no major issues or red flags. I always had anxiety we could be found out, but we handled our shit. The affection, the communication, the good times spent out together abruptly seized around the first of October. I would try and ask, without pestering, what was wrong. "Oh, nothing baby. Everything is fine." Meanwhile--his apartment was immaculate. Warning bells, but I carried on. It was junior year of high school, after all--I had college SATs to prep for, a part time job, etc. I tried keeping it cool. But over the next week to ten days, we began having arguments. Petty ones. Ones where I couldn't recognize this man anymore. Never called me names or swore at me; but man, the cutting remarks and icy glare. When he wasn't acting stupid, I'd let myself into his place and find him gazing into the television losing himself in a comedy. Lights were on, nobody was home.
One week, two weeks prior to Halloween, I had this deep, enveloping fear. I didn't know what it was or where it was coming from. This week I lost all appetite, all sleep, all concentration. Then: ". Sit down. I've got to tell you something." BOOM. "Yes? What is it?" In a flat tone, yet meeting my eyes for the first time in weeks, he replies, "I have to go back home."
He claimed his Gramah was sick with leukemia. (That part was actually true--she passed in 2003.) My eyes welled up. Yet; I hugged him and expressed sorrow for his Gramah. But once he told me the WHEN part--I lost my absolute shit. "When are you going back? Next month?" Nope. Try again. "No baby, next week. Mom and Derrick <name changed> are coming up to help me move." At that point, it was no holds barred. I railed. I cried. I threw my hairbrush at the wall of his living room.
When he left, I asked him for a breakup. No way we were going to survive. He insisted he still loved me. We would "make it work." Do you think he could call me to let me know they made the three day drive back safely? No. I waited nearly a WEEK and chased him. I got a different person as soon as he answered the line. "Yeah; we made it. Yeah; love you too." Three months later, just shy of my 17th birthday, he broke it off with me officially over the phone. No apology. No reasons. Not even an excuse. Just, "your friends are right--I am not in love with you anymore."
Throughout the years, after space, time, us going through different partners, and even him visiting me three times after I graduated high school, we've always been able to maintain a friendship. But: He goes through phases that he never used to be so flagrant about before. He'll call me or text. Sometimes, it's a surface-level conversation. Sometimes, it's a just-checking-in. And then there are other times where he REALLY puts himself on the line. Eight hour long conversations about how he never actually lost feelings, that if things don't work out in my life, I always have a place with him. But these convos are only ever initiated by him; rarely when I initiate a text or call, does he respond. He'll take anywhere from (shortest time) 3 weeks to touch base, to 3 MONTHS. The longest span of time was probably a few years when he was engaged to a lady near him. That fell apart and when asked casually, (DAs run scared on emotional topics unless they bring them up, which even then they'll fuck off for a good while afterwards) what happened? He just very casually, "pass the salt and pepper" tone replied: "Oh, nothing major. Just didn't work out. No big deal." Apparently it was. He's only been in a grand total of three serious relationships--this woman he was with for six years.
Baffled. I know I should work towards becoming secure enough where it doesn't bother me; or, if I don't have the capacity to do so, then cut the cord entirely. I just can't seem to shake this dude. For what it's worth, there came a point in my life where I was under a crisis unrelated to this man in anyway at all, where I blocked on all fronts for nearly a solid year and getting to a state of indifference or at least letting go of picking apart my own flaws subsided.
What makes this all the more convoluted is--I'm not missing the him that he is NOW. I do not miss the sudden shockwave of being dumped in an ice cold bath water after a searing hot sunburn. The very fact I told him so many years back before knowing attachment styles existed that he needed to change his outlook and attitude on people in general and his eruption! Therapist says I'm in a temporary state of limerence. We don't know what all triggered these sudden feelings, but they gripped me hard and fast for about a week now. Fact is, even IF I entertained the idea of reuniting some day, seeing as to how he is staunchly opposed to his problems, it would only mean me pandering to him.