I am drinking my fourth glass of wine (don’t judge) and I suddenly realized: Today would have been our five year anniversary.
On an abstract level, I knew this all day. I knew this all week. I knew this in the weeks leading up to this week.
AND IT DIDN’T IMPACT ME.
Last year, I was still living with him. Last year, I was in every possible way an absolute mess. I couldn’t function on this date. I was in misery. I was in total meltdown mode. It was horrible.
This year… on some level, I forgot.
I forgot I was supposed to have Big Emotions about this. I didn’t have them. They weren’t there.
Five years ago today, we met up and we spent five hours together drinking far too much and talking about god knows what.
At the end of that five hours, I let him walk me to my car. I let him ride the elevator with me to the floor of the garage where I had parked. I let him lunge at me in the elevator and smash his face against mine, mouth opened wide, tongue shoved deep inside my mouth, teeth grinding against mine.
When we got to my car and he kept talking, lord knows about what, and I wanted to get away and go home, I lied to him. I told him I needed to get away from him or I was going to give in to my impulses to pull him into the back seat of my car and do naughty things to him.
I have no idea why I said these things. They were not authentic to me. I wanted to impress him. I wanted him to continue liking me. It disgusts me now that I played this role to him.
Conversely, I might have done it because he hadn’t listened to other cues and I had a hunch flattering his ego would be the one thing that would get through to him.
To be fair, it did work.
The truth was, while we were out that night I had received a text from my then very pregnant sister. She had very suddenly gone into labor and had given birth, and I was a proud auntie to a healthy baby boy.
Absolutely nothing other than my sister and my new nephew mattered to me much right then, but none of the things I said to try to get away and absorb this information and these feelings were heard or respected.
I lied in order to get away. I lied to be able to go and celebrate and weep tears of joy. I wasn’t in a state where I was able to continue a normal date. I needed to be alone and to feel. I wasn’t able to do that with his energy nearby.
I realize now that the Narcissist’s total lack of empathy made feeling all those big feelings in his vicinity absolutely impossible. It simply couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t have been possible.
It wasn’t the first time he and I had gotten together. Six months earlier we had gone out on another date. I hadn’t liked him.
To this day I’m not sure why I gave him another chance. My first instincts about him had been accurate. Too intense. Not emotionally aware. Way uptight. Not at all compatible with me.
And yet, give him a chance, I did. And continued to do for three and a half years. Continued to do even when all evidence showed he wasn’t worth more chances.
The reason for this? I am not sure. This is what we work on during my therapy appointments.
Today, though, I have a beautiful nephew who is five years old. He went through a pretty hardcore heavy metal phase over the last few years, but now is in a superhero-obsessed state, and he insisted on dressing up as Bruce Wayne for preschool today.
Yes. He is adorable and smart and spunky and awesome.
He is what is important to my present day. He is what will remain important on this date every year.
The past is in the past. My present is what is lovely and relevant and worthy of honor and love.
Today would have been our five year anniversary. And honestly, I couldn’t have given any less of a fuck about it.