This is the story of mr. X and me. (Mr. X is my other great love, before the narcissist).
Once again my world had come crashing down around me. His silence grew, expanded until it filled the whole neighborhood, if not the whole country. A chasm had opened up between us, and there seemed to be no building materials in this world, for a bridge that could bring us back together on the same side again.
My mind could not touch this thought for long; the consequences of thinking it were too terrible. So my mind occupied itself with thinking about all that we had together. Silly, childish things, like our own “language”, which no one else would understand if they were to hear it. It was in essence a verbal old-fashioned patchwork quilt; a language built on scraps of word fabric. Inside jokes, silly things we’d heard on TV, our various pet names for each other and much more, formed into our very own language, over the years. Sometimes we would laugh so hard that we cried, when speaking our own “language”.
There was the trust, the core between us, the unshakable foundation which so much had rested on; I knew that mr. X would never, ever go behind my back, be dishonest or unfaithful. It just wasn’t in his heart. Nor in mine. Such trust is a rare diamond in the dark coal mines of this life.
And that devilish passion, which had stayed the same for three and a half years. The only thing that had changed, was that we now knew every atom of the other, every line and flaw; every fantasy, every wish. We now knew not only how to set our house on fire, but also how to douse the flames, how to save each other, bring serenity to each other’s souls.
Mr. X had so much love in his cowboy heart, the heart of a small town police officer, that he even loved my cat. That was a stupid detail to think about now; but I had seen his tenderness for that little animal. How my cat came looking for mr. X in the evening, and how he would take the little critter into his arms, and they’d fall asleep. As though he was gently holding a small child… I just knew within me, that the tenderness and the caring side, which mr. X possessed, meant he would make a good father. A great one, actually. I just wanted to shake him, force him to see what I saw….
A bitterness as heavy as the mass of the universe, was suddenly weighing on my shoulders. I could not get up, I could not speak. What was I to say? I wanted to scream at the stormy skies, I wanted to curse God; Why in Heaven’s name let me have this love, if it was not meant to be? If I was just going to lose it anyway? Why pretend to give it to me, when it was just a loan, a trick of the mind, a fantasy? Never mine, never to keep.
The cruelty of it all just seemed so meaningless. Despair gripped my heart with its iron fist and I looked away from mr. X, so he wouldn’t see the hot tears burning my cheeks. Whenever I cry such hot tears, I know there is a sadness within that will burn for months or years to come.
Eventually, we started talking. He might aswell have put my body in a torture chamber and be done with it. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see his point of view. It was logical, reasonable. Understandable. Unbearable. I had known there was an age difference. But.. he was the Small Town Man! Every other Small Town Man in this godforsaken place, had children and got married around his age! But he was different. He wanted to wait, experience life a lot more, before taking on the responsibility of being a father. I understood him, myself. I hated him, and myself. I was soon going to be thirty years old. And from the way he talked about this, I realized he could not give me any sort of time frame for when he could see himself ready for a family. And I simply could not afford to wait indefinitely, for something that might or might not happen.
The discussions were fruitless, we were tourists lost in the Sahara desert; it was maddening, we were wandering in circles, our brains burned to ashes by the heat and the hopelessness of our situation.
We stopped at the edge of our sanity, exhausted.
And so I set a time limit, on our love that had always been boundless.
The Ultimatum was given.
Then we slipped into each other, forgot all the words and sank into each other’s eyes, skin, mouths and souls.
Into the bliss of denial and darkness, we sank, deeper and deeper we drank from this oasis; this mirage in our merciless desert.
To Be Continued….