The highiest high of the lowest low

“This has been fun but let me down now!” he said, trying to sound playful. 

“No,” I said. “I’m so tired of you always avoiding this talk!” In all honesty I was tired of him, in general, tired of us. Tired of never knowing where this relationship is going, if this was a real relationship to begin with. I was tired of blurred lines defining what we have just because he didn’t want to commit, and I didn't want to let go. 

“So, you think keeping me stuck on this stupid seesaw, at 3 a.m., in the dark is going to solve that? I’m avoiding this talk because I don’t know what I think, where I stand! I need time to figure this out!” He now gave up trying not to seem annoyed by this. “I don’t know what to say.” This sentence. This stupid sentence! It drove me mad every time he said it. He never knew. It has been almost four years, and he still didn’t know. Nothing drove me off the edge more than the stupid “I don’t know” and he knew it. He knew it and he still said it all the time.  And this anger fuelled me, despite my tiredness. I was misfuelling this relationship and somehow it was still going, pending the inevitable explosion. 

“Time?! You need time?! Do you realise for how long this has been going on and how much time you’ve had?” I was properly screaming now. “You can’t keep doing this to me. You can’t say things like ‘I think I will always love you, even if we will eventually get divorced after we get married’ when I don’t even know if we are together, a couple. It’s impossible for me to see how you can love me that much but not want to spend more than a couple months a year together. To keep me hurting in the dark so that you can fuck other people, so you don’t feel like you’re missing out on something. And I wouldn’t care that you fuck other people if you didn’t keep it a secret or if you still wanted to fuck me. What the fuck?!” I have reached the familiar point in our fights where I started crying and shaking. That was how my body always reacted to being this angry with him and with me for putting up with his bullshit for so long. But I couldn’t let go. Not until he said he was done with me. I couldn’t free myself from this situation that was slowly killing me. He knew but he chose to not know. Because eventually one day he’d be done fearing missing out on things and he could comfortably fall into me, us. But why wasn’t he fearing missing out on us? If he loved me as much as he said he did… These thoughts were racing through my brain daily at that point and I was tired. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know…” he said in a small voice, crying now too. But he had that angry face he always has when we fight. The “why am I hurting too?” face, like he hated me for making him suffer. For making him care, for stealing his emotional numbness. He hated himself for loving me and he hated me for making him love me. But he never faced his feelings, he floated in this ignorant bliss and dragged me along. But I was drowning so from time to time I needed to come up for air. And that’s when I’d start these conversations. The classic “Where is this going? What are we?” ones every woman in her twenties has with her emotionally unavailable piece of crap… boyfriend? I was so ashamed of being one of these girls but so delusional into thinking I am living a great love story. One of resilience and fighting for the one you love. But he was fighting me, fighting the idea that he was in love with me, the possibility that he would waste his life loving me instead of having fun. So we were fighting the same battle but from opposite sides. 

“Stop saying that! You never have anything else to say. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know’.” I said mockingly. I was aware I was hysterical, making a scene as my head felt like that engine about to explode with anger. “When will you know? How long do I have to go through this?”. “This” meant constantly thinking about him, reading into the tiniest things he was doing, sleepless nights when he wouldn’t text me back. Being such a wreck, I didn’t want to live in this awful present, I was always imagining what our future would be like, taking comfort into that. And letting my actual, real life pass by me. 

He paused and then quietly said “I don’t know…” Something inside me snapped. I stood up from the seesaw. He fell with a loud thump. He just stood there on the ground, not saying a word. I didn’t mean to stand up and make him fall, I was acting blind on rage. “At least now you’re hurting too!” I said and instantly regretted it. In that moment I saw it. I saw all his doubts, insecurities, all his trauma unleashing from the furthest corners of his mind. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to hurt you” I was now collapsing next to him, in the playground sand, tears out of control, shaking so hard my teeth were clattering. He turned away, his back leaning on mine.  

The sand felt cold and wet in my hands and I was transported to the beach, a year and some months ago, in summer. A similar impossible hour in the night, a much too similar fight. It was right after we had pizza for dinner and he told me the divorce bullshit. Another wave of pure anger washed over me, followed by the low of tired indifference. “Ok, we don’t have to figure this one out now. Let’s just go.”

“If you want to go, go. I need more time to get over this,” he said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone, at this hour. Please let’s go inside. I’ll leave you alone there,” I lied. 

“No, I can’t. I need to stay here.” I had paralysed him as I did so many times before. I took one of the issues out from under his rug and the rest came out at him aggressively. And now he was so overwhelmed with it he couldn’t move. Why was I doing this? Was I selfish by seeking answers when I knew this would always be the end result? No answer, me shaking for hours and him frozen? Or was he selfish? Never dealing with his demons, pushing me to my limit, never choosing me? 

“Then I’m not going either.” And we stayed there, back-to-back for a long time. My head was spinning with the same thoughts, questions, anger. But now the tiredness was winning over the anger. I didn’t have the energy to speak another word and I was slowly starting to drift off. What was he thinking about? Was he trying to find answers for me now?

Finally, he turned around and gently shook me awake. “Let’s go.” So we stood up and I followed him home, a few steps behind.