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It’s funny, in the way that these things are funny (which is in all actuality not particularly funny), but I’ve been composing this post in my head for weeks now.
I think I knew. I think I knew this was coming, maybe right from the start, but definitely for the past six weeks. In that time, I’ve toyed around with how best to say what it is that I have to say, which surely you have surmised by now. My relationship with the lover is no more.
Why, you ask? Why did something that seemed to be going so well, wherein we both pushed the other’s buttons so well, have to end?
Well, I’ll tell you. I’m not entirely sure.
There was a disagreement; Matthew was quite upset with me about something, but he said that the disagreement itself was not the reason he ended things. I believe him. I offered in several ways to address his concerns about the disagreement. That didn’t help.
Perhaps then it was because we’d struggled to balance all the parts of the relationship, including the parts that (by necessity and choice) intersected with other relationships. That aspect was never easy. It was a constant negotiation that brought on stress a’plenty for both of us. Sharing brings out strong emotions, and the kind of sharing we tried to do was indeed quite a challenge.
Probably part of it was that Matthew felt that I needed the freedom to find someone who could be everything for me. Everything, the whole deal, the knight in shining armor who would meet all of my needs at once.
I’m 98% certain that a person like that does not exist, and I’m 99% certain that I’m not ready even if that person popped into my life this very moment. But Matthew believed that he was holding me back from finding that person; he thought that my focus on him prevented me from keeping a watchful, hungry vigil for that man.
Maybe he was right.
It could have been that I knew too much about his life. People tell me stuff, often more than they planned to tell me or wanted to tell me. I’ve got some weird magnetism hypnotism thing going on. People tell me more than they intended, and then they regret it.
In this case, I pretty much forced Matthew to tell me more than he wanted to. I’m sure that wasn’t a comfortable position for him.
He might have ended things because I really wasn’t what he was every looking for. He got into our pervy dating site group for sex, not love. As much as I tried to give him the freedom to fuck with impunity, there were many times that my presence kept him from that task. Without me, he will be able to do more of what he originally set out to do. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Maybe it was because he didn’t love me anymore. He says he didn’t, that he hadn’t for some time. That…yeah, that hurt. A lot.
You may call me a naive idiot in the comments (it’s ok, really, since I’ve been calling myself exactly that without ceasing these past few days), but I don’t believe that he stopped loving me.
Someone tells you that they havn’t loved you for a long while and you don’t believe them? Yeah, that pretty much qualifies you for entry into the Naive Idiot Hall of Fame.
All those things probably played a part in why things ended, and surely there were other things about which I have no idea. We’re complex and difficult people. I’m not easy to love. In fact I’m pretty much a complete pain in the ass. In short, there were multitudinous reasons for the relationship to be over.
There was a moment some six weeks ago when Matthew got up from our bed hours before we were scheduled to go our separate ways. He put on his clothes and made to leave. He was ready to end things then, but I begged him to reconsider. I begged him to stay.
Eventually, slowly, reluctantly, he undressed again and returned to bed. We loved each other as best we could in the rest of the time we were together, but that was when we drank the poison.
It’s been only a matter of time until it took effect.

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