I missed him for the first time tonight. Really missed him. Not just someone. I missed the man he used to be, the way we used to be together. I missed the way we were at parties, connecting across the room. I missed sharing the party with him. It was the first time that we were both at a function where I wanted to go over to him and be with him, like we used to.
I still don’t regret my decision. The man he is today is not the man I miss. Maybe I am not the woman today that he would miss either. Somewhere along the line, those two people packed up and went away, never to be found again. And that breaks my heart.
Even with all the love and warmth and affection that I was surrounded with tonight, I couldn’t help but think of past parties, past events, past times in our lives where we were so connected, so attached that the telepathy across the room was seamless.
I have my favorite guys who share a bit of that kind of connection with me. I find when we’re talking or in a conversation with others, there is that silent, shared connection that goes between us that everyone has with their very close friends. But tonight, it was a particular connection that I missed.
As he left and there was that awkward moment of how do we say goodbye, because we haven’t progressed to the friendly hug point yet – and may never – but for one second, I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to remember what it was like to love him because I think I’ve forgotten that. Somewhere in all the anger and the hurt, the feeling of his love was lost and I don’t think I will ever be able to find it again. And that is the saddest thing of it all.
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