It's Too Late To Apologize

The time has come. Here’s the story I’ve been meaning to tell.

When The Celibacy Project began, I offered several reasons as to why I felt I needed to do this. These included a desire to be single for a while and an overall need to slow my sexual roll.

But the truth is there was another reason I haven’t been ready to talk about until now. In the beginning it was my major inspiration, though I know I’ve since gotten more out of this experience than I had ever intended to. Nevertheless, it was my impetus, and it’s the same force that drives girls to do all sorts of crazy things. This was, originally, about a boy. Sigh.

I call him The One.

Once upon a time (actually it was about a year ago) I met him in Las Vegas. That should have been a red flag in and of itself.

TO lived in San Francisco where he owned a software company. He was Jewish, hot, funny, smart, 37 and basically the most perfect guy I’d ever met. He’s the first person I let into my life in a long time that actually “got me.” He made me laugh, he made me think and he made me cum.

But…

He was a professional bachelor. He traveled for work a lot and didn’t think he could ever commit to one girl. When he told me this, about four months into the relationship, I should have changed my number and left no forwarding address.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. This one was perfect, this one was special, and I’m a cool girl so I could just make him love me, right?

So. Fucking. Wrong.

For the next two months, in light of this obvious deal-breaker, I beat my head against a wall trying to be everything he wanted me to be. That meant we would text all day long, talk on the phone every night, and send each other funny, dirty e-mails whenever the mood struck. He came to visit me once a month and we spent beautiful weekends together. I completely opened up to him and I honestly, truly, loved him. But all the while he’s dating, and fucking, his next-door neighbor. And I let him. And I lived with it. And it killed me every day that he wouldn’t just be mine.

I’ve never done anything that stupid for a guy in my entire life.

Then finally, at the end of a two-month exercise in martyrdom, I stared to give up. I met Poor Bastard, who gave me all the attention I thought I needed (but wasn’t getting) at the time. He wasn’t, and never would be, The One and I knew that. Still I somehow summoned the courage to tell TO that I couldn’t do this anymore, he was hurting me, and I was done.

However…

The asshole sucked me back in, as assholes tend to do. He told me he’d go to therapy, he’d try to learn to love me and that, by the way, the reason he probably couldn’t is because he’d caught the girl he’d loved fucking her ex-boyfriend…twelve years ago.

AWESOME.

But I bought it! I actually felt bad for him. I even justified his inability to commit because of this information. So ‘round and ‘round we went, dating other people, but falling for each other. Whether or not he’ll ever admit it, I know that he loved me, to a small but certain extent.

And then, a month later, he unceremoniously gave up. Actually, he told me that he was making the first unselfish decision he’d ever made in his life. He wasn’t dumping me, he was letting me go, because it finally occurred to him that he’d never be able to give me what I needed.

This absolutely destroyed me. I was ready to walk a month earlier. I could have left with some dignity, but no, it had to be on his terms. Rather than let me go when I wanted to leave, he convinced me he was going to try harder. But I am absolutely sure he knew it was never going to work. Instead, he bided his time, ripped my heart out and put it through a wood chipper leaving it (and me) in a million little pieces. For the record, I don’t hate him for this. I never did and I can't. I loved him. But I actually pity him and in a way, that’s almost worse. He was, and always will be, self-centered and manipulative. He’ll never be in love and perhaps he doesn’t deserve to be. That will always be his cross to bear. Yeah, I'm still a little bitter. That's my cross to bear, I suppose.

It took me seven weeks to finally realize what it was and that it was over.

It was in that moment of clarity when I decided to start this blog.

He was The One I wanted to marry. He was The One that got away. But he was also The One that knowingly broke my heart in a way that I’ve never experienced before. I haven’t actually spoken to him since the day it all came crashing down, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think about him. And I used to hate myself for it.

So that’s why I did this.

The Celibacy Project was about learning to love myself. I spent so much time trying to make TO love me that I forgot how important that self-love is. I have realized that I can never get into another situation where my happiness is so dependent on somebody else. Because the truth about that is when it’s good, it’s so very good, but when it’s bad it can’t get any worse. I took this time off from guys because I needed to learn to live without them. In doing so, I also learned to live without The One and I found out that life can be just as good, if not better, without him.

xo