still the coach. still talking him through how to make a play for this girl who isn’t me.
People challenge me for not being a “good enough masochist”…. I point to my last few weeks. Every hour of this hurts.
Every part stings. The moment I knew – that he didn’t want to meet R because then leaving would be hard – he was already out the door. When he said that if she moved in, he’d probably fall in love with her… casual and throwaway, but the BPD girl knows abandonment like it is a second skin. And she always makes the subtext text. That’s her skill.
I don’t love him. But it hurts to be friend-zoned and then be coaching him on how to make his way out if it – how to play… At some point he’s going to ask me how I know and maybe I’ll be honest – maybe I’ll say i’m just telling you what I’ve been doing…
He jokes that his ex is the monogamy seeker – that she’ll just marry the next person – that she’s looking for another long term relationship. Which is exactly what he’s doing.
And I know I’m not long term material. Life has taught me that I’m intolerable. But I’ll grieve it. I don’t think he’s doing any of this on purpose – not to be cruel. But I don’t think he has the emotional scope to see too deep. And for sure I’ve not shown him any of my “self”. He gets the girl who plays – the fuckbuddy. But he’s not once asked how I “am” or how I “feel” or shown any interest in that side of me. And I haven’t volunteered it. I am ashamed of how wounded I am, at how little he would have scratch at the surface to reveal how pathetic I really am. He’s never seen me cry. And now I don’t think he gets to. I have to guard my heart. I had the hope that I could trust him enough, but I’m not sure I trust myself.
More likely, I’ll just sob myself to sleep as I have for the last few nights and contemplate being in an empty bed yet again. I would one day like to be the little spoon as I fall asleep. It’s a fairly simple wish, mundane really. But that’s where the wound is today.