But it brought up a lot of tough stuff between the two of us. In an already emotionally raw week this has sort of sucked. There was frank discussion about why we didn't work, because I've hurt about this for a long time. I wanted so badily for it to work, but honestly felt he didn't care. In the end it was my own hesitation that made him stutter, my own stubborn determination to not be a user that made him falter.
I feel like shit.
I've turned myself in knots of late, watching him with this person, bitterly resentful because I wanted a modicum of that out of him. How different would things have been? I was so scared that it was all a lie, that he would tell me he had changed his mind, or that he had really just settled on me. He had spent so much energy on Rebecca I couldn't believe that he really wanted me.
I was an idiot, and I let that ship sail. Even when I did speak up, which I did, he had already made up his mind that it wasn't what he wanted. I can't tell if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy or not. Maybe I allowed it to happen because I didn't think he would want to stay with me. After all, I'm not the kind of girl he falls in love with.
I was right, I wasn't. I think that's the part that hurts most of all.
Caron and others try to comfort me, tell me that all their advise at the time was valid, because looking at it now it's obvious that even if I had said yes at the time there would have been some way Patric would have changed his mind, and perhaps the situation could have been oh so worse then. I don't know if that makes me feel any better. All I know is that at the end of the day I feel like shit because I hesitated in answering, hoping he would budge on his demands and show me that he was willing to bend for me like he had Rebecca. I was tired of giving and giving without feeling like I was getting back.
Perhaps that's because I wasn't looking. There were plenty of times Patric offered to take care of me, and I wouldn't take it. I wasn't going to be like Rebecca and use him. How many times had he complained about the money he lent her or to Randy? How many people had used him and pissed him off. I was going to prove I could hold my own. The weird thing about all of that is really, I want someone to take care of me now and then, I do. But I never, ever wanted to become beholden by it, never wanted to lose myself because of it. I never wanted to realize I was so beholden I couldn't be myself. And so I shied away from it, figuring if I really needed it, I could go to him. I never realized that he was offering it as a way to show me what I meant.
We were so fucked up...I never saw or understood, and just believed he was far too in love with someone else to ever notice me. When he did, I wouldn't believe him. And then he gave up. I suppose at the end of the day that probably says something. It says I clearly wouldn't know something unless it hit me in the face. And it shows too that perhaps I was right, because if he really did love me so much, why the hell would he give up? I never did.
Well, till now.
And that's not entirely true, I do love him like I always did, that won't go away sadly. He moved on long ago, even if I didn't realize it, and I'm struggling to put myself back together. But there are tiny silver linings out there I guess, nothing to write home about, but I see them, and for now that's enough to convince me that all hope isn't lost on me. But this weekend, with everything going on, it hurt like hell to hear how I threw away a chance at something I wanted so much, and waited for, and hoped foolishly would happen. And it hurts equally much knowing that for him the moment passed and isn't mourned like it is by me. He has only two women he opened himself up to like that, and it wasn't me. That certainly makes me feel like shit.
Because even when I move on, and I will, a not-so-small part of me will wish I had said yes that night, despite his qualifications, taken the chance and run with it. Perhaps I would have resented it, maybe not, maybe he would have worked compromised more if I had. But there is a lot of maybes, and in the end I don't know. I just know I really, really hate myself at the moment.
This fucking sucks.
Anyway, I need to face this, I need to air this out, I need to look it over and "drain the wound" as it were if I have a hope in hell of moving on. If I don't I'll hold on to these bitter regrets and eat myself alive. There's not a thing I can do now to make it better, and not a way I can be anyone different. It's the regrets that suck most at the moment, and they nearly call for a good, stiff getting drunk, but I lack the booze or the money for any, and I have work I need to do.