A Sordid Love Affair

I have always had a very addictive personality. I'll latch on to things and have a very hard time of letting them go whether they are physical or ideological. From my teenage years until now, I've dealt with a lot of issues with self-medication and addiction. It's been a rocky road and although there is still a long road ahead, the first step is always admitting that you have a problem.

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I met her when I was 14 years old, after school at a friend’s house while his parents were out. I’ll have to admit that I was pretty scared at the time. I walked in and there she was, like something I had been missing my entire life. She made me feel languid and confidant filling the void. We talked and hung out, watched an episode of “The Simpsons”. My friend’s parents came home and kicked us out. I promised I would keep in touch and that’s how we started our sordid love affair.

She was always around during high school, we would see each other at parties on the weekends and we even went to prom together. My parent’s definitely didn’t approve of her. They thought I was too young and that she led me into the wrong crowds. But like any young boy in the throes, I was deeply entrenched and blind to any negative repercussions. She made me feel good and I thought I was in love. I thought she was something I needed because of the way she made me feel.

It was in college where things got hot and heavy. There were definitely fights like anything else, sometimes we would have a bad row and I would feel miserable in the morning and for the rest of the following day. But things would always cool down and then it would be back into the same old routine. My friends liked her too so there was almost always never getting away from it. Sometimes I felt like my life was becoming too intertwined with hers. She made up so much of my personality and my persona that sometimes I did not know who I was and where we began.  

After college ended, friends drifted off into their own relationships and jobs like people are destined to do. I was lost for a little while, but she was always there. At the time I was studying for LSATS while working at an office job and I was miserable and it wasn’t what I wanted. She was by my side, a voice from the past, lulling me into a false sense of security and comfort. She would always promise me that everything was going to alright, although I knew that it wouldn’t. I wasn’t happy with myself, so I lost myself in her. We would cut ourselves off from the rest of the world and I thought sometimes that was good enough.

It’s always hard to pinpoint exactly where a relationship goes awry. Long gone were the young, innocent days of discovery and inhibition. Nights out with friends and social gatherings were replaced with dive bars and forgotten saloons. When I would invite her along to have dinner with my parents they would give me a look saying “we were only expecting you.” She had started to become a crutch. I was desperate for her at times: in depression, celebration, loneliness, boredom, she had become a part of me.

I couldn’t go anywhere without her. She spoke for me in public. She was a shield between me and the world. I was seeing her so often I didn’t know if I could ever live without her. It was easy to let her take the lead and I it accepted without question.

“Can we meet up?”

“Yeah, you know I’m always here for you.”

“We have to talk.”

I meet her at my usual bar, staring at old faces, tired and worn. Filled with yearning, regret, mistakes, and broken promises. Broken men and broken dreams. These faces unable to move away from the past, filling themselves with fleeting content to escape the pain. I have always thought of myself as one of these men, hiding behind the mask that she was able to help me put on. A false sense of stoicism, of masculinity. As much as I wanted to step away, she was always there calling me back. And it was always so easy to go back.

I had lost myself in her and it was time for me to step away.

“I can’t see you anymore.”

She looked at me coyly and smiled like she didn’t believe me.

“I have to say good bye.”

“What about all our memories?”

“They weren’t real.”

“But you said that you would love me forever.”

“You and I both know that it is time for me to go.”

She looked at me long and hard and whispered “I’ll see you soon.” I walked out of the bar and away from everything I knew.

I miss her dearly sometimes. After a long day, I want to taste her on my lips and have her fill me with her warmth. Like any sordid love affair, saying good bye is always the hardest part. It is time for me to find myself, to find happiness without her. I can’t say that I won’t relapse. I’ll probably see her around and fall back into it as the past is sometimes hard to walk away from. I have forgotten what it is to experience, to be present. Who I’ve become does not match up who I want to be. Sometimes love doesn’t last forever and I'm beginning to learn that it's okay. It's just the way things are.