I spend a lot of time telling myself the same story over and over and over again. I use lots of women to tell myself this story. It’s a little bit of a mystery to me. Even after over 20 years of psychoanalysis and over 40 years of adulthood. Or at least post-adolescence-hood.
The story is, I’m doing my best. I’m being as good as I can. I’m communicating. I’m being respectful and polite. I’m trying not to ask too much. And somehow, notwithstanding all of that. Notwithstanding the fact that I felt so convinced of her affection, desire, and yes, love. Notwithstanding all of that, she’s left me. She’s left me. Never to be heard from again.
And left me with the vague sense that I did something wrong. Somehow, I made her departure inevitable. And try though I might, there’s nothing I can do to reach her.