We all have our skeletons in the closet. We all have aspects of our personalities we’d rather not admit. I’ve decided for this blog to get one of my personal burdens off my chest. So here’s my confession.
As the titles states, I was the crazy ex. You know the type. The person you broke things off with because the relationship was utterly hopeless. You were miserable. Some how this person fails to see that they are no longer wanted in your life and they just can’t accept it. Yeah, that was me once.
It started back in high school. During my early years I dated a few guys. When my junior year hit, I met who I thought was the love of my life. We were both seeing other people when we were first introduced, but neither of us could deny the laws of attraction applied strongly to us. It really seemed as if he only had eyes for me. Who knows? Maybe at the time, that was the case. Eventually things didn’t work out with the guy I had been seeing (nothing to do with Mr. Chemistry either). I guess word got out on the street quick because for I knew it I was in a serious, blinders on to the world relationship with the guy who I couldn’t stop thinking about.
We dated for 2 1/2 years… I think. After graduation we moved into an apartment together. Through a series of ugly events that I’d rather not re-hash we ended moving back to our respective homes. We were still dating though.
I noticed after that he was growing more distant. I flew into panic mode. I tried to win his attention back by being clinging and showering him with presents. I had no concept of what personal space is. Oops. I reek of desperation. I truly didn’t want to lose the person I considered my best friend.
In retrospect I should have thought about all the serious issues that had come between us. We needed to work on a lot of things if we wanted to stay together. Even though I didn’t want the looming and certain break up, I failed to see we were kids playing grown ups. It had stopped being “fun” ages ago. Every interaction turned into a fight ending with me hysterical and in tears (really pathetic since he actually never did anything worthy of my wrath or agonizing, inconsolable sorrow).
So one night when he got out of work he ended things, gently as he could. That was that. I could have just let it be. I could have just moved on. That would have been sensible. Oh no! Not me. I turned into the crazy ex.
I drove by his house (which was by itself in a field in the middle of nowhere) as often as I could. I may have faked a pregnancy. I sent him letters. I intentionally hung out with his friends (so they could tell him all about me). I acted miserable near any one he knew. Some how my mind had twisted basically psychology. I thought if he knew how much I missed him, how much I cared about him, how awful I was without him, surely he’d see that I was sorry for my part in the break up and he’d change my mind.
Haha! How wrong I was!!! The thing about people is that if you push them, they usually run away. This poor guy ran a marathon.
It took forever for me to move on, even longer to forget him. Years later I found him on social media. I may have been drunk. I sent him a brief message along the lines of “Hey, how are you?”. The reply was “Please leave me alone.” I guess I really can’t blame him. I wasn’t looking to rekindle anything. That ship has longed sailed. Even if it was in the bay, I wouldn’t. I have exactly what I want. I know now what real love is, not the silly puppy dog love I had experienced back then.
The truth is I am over him. I’ve been done with it for ages. I’ve learned not to display my emotions so intensely (this benefits everyone in my life, including me). I wish I could tell him sorry for being a crazy ex, but that would involve contact. So I’ll happily respect his wishes and avoid him. It’s the least I can do.