It’s 1am and as usual, I can’t sleep. My mind is buzzing with a thousand things at once and it can’t slow down. I have been busy today – I wrote in the morning, went out for a day of shopping with the Little Sis, saw my Mama Bear for a couple of hours and she made me dinner (bless her!), hung out with the Bestie and petted some one-week old kitties. Clearly this was my most favourite part of the day – those kitties were fucking beautiful and put their mother through hell when they were born. I want them all. I think I could be the crazy cat lady. I might even stink of piss sometimes after a particularly heavy night.
I came home and did the worst thing imaginable. I have been down the last few days. I smoked a joint and stalked The Big Love. What a fucking retard I am today, huh?
He liked a photography link. I clicked on the photography link. Remember the two friends’ wedding that I mentioned in The Trainable Douschebag? Well, the photography link was for those damn wedding photographs… and I looked.
All of a sudden I had this rush of emotion. It was crazy. I felt sad yet happy, angry and miserable, spiteful and tearful, joyful and proud. I didn’t know how to cope with it. The wedding photographs were beautiful and Miss. N (Well, Mrs. now I guess) looked absolutely beautiful. It made me sad that I wasn’t there to see it. Not that I would have been anyway; we had a pretty big falling out just before I came home. She was a pretentious bitch and always took me the wrong way while I was a bit of a spiteful cow and miserable because of my shitty relationship. I wouldn’t have been going to that wedding even if things were okay though; I only had a certain type of Visa and I didn’t know if I would have trouble getting back into the country again after.
Despite the fact that I wouldn’t have gone to that wedding even if I had been invited, I was sad that I wasn’t there. The Big Love took his girlfriend, didn’t he? He must really love her to have put her in their wedding photographs for the rest of their lives. This realisation made me realise a few things, so I decided to write him a letter that of course, I’m never going to give to him.
Dear The Big Love,
I have really struggled to get over you and even now, a year on, I still don’t think I’ve managed it yet. You created a cavern in my heart that is so deep, even my newfound love with another man hasn’t filled it. I gave you my everything. I even moved to the other side of the world for you. You always promised me that if anything went wrong, you would make sure I got home alright. You promised my Mama Bear this, and my Bestie. How could you have been the way you were right at the end of our relationship?
You were the coldest man I have ever come across. You were the meanest, nastiest, most miserable man. This is something totally different from the man that I met and fell in love with. The man I fell in love with was carefree and joyful, happy and glad to be alive. You fell apart. We fell apart. I know I fell apart and for that I’m always going to be sorry. With every ounce of my being.
I don’t know if I destroyed us, or you did, or we did, but I do know that it was well and truly destroyed. We sucked every last gram of happiness out of us, but despite that, I know you were “The One” for me. You still are. You always will be. We had the potential to be something so great. We could have conquered the world with our love for each other right at the beginning. I read the letters you wrote to me when you were still in the War Zone and I was back on my side of the world. That wasn’t fake right there; that was real love. It was angry, passionate, bubbling at the surface love. The kind that Carrie has with Big in Sex and the City. The love that I had desired since the very first time I saw their on-screen chemistry – that was the kind of love that I wanted. You were my Big.
I hate you for changing but every time I remember that you changed and get angry, I always end up smiling because of some daft thing that you did to cheer me up at the time. I remember when we tried to go outdoor ice skating in the middle of the night at the hockey pitch near where we lived. I always hated ice skating and could never catch my balance but that night with you, I wanted so badly to make you smile so I went and I tried my hardest to skate. Just for you.
We had a great night – you ended up just pulling me around the rink and throwing me into the snow bank by the sides. That was cute right there – the laughing as we piled in the snow. I remember the kiss we shared as we were shivering in that snow bank. It just made me shiver. That was right at the end of us but we still had a good night. It just gave me more strength to fight for us – that was like a night of rekindled love. We went to Tim Horton’s to grab a hot chocolate and we made love when we went to bed that night.
It’s moments like that, that will always keep a spark alive in my heart for you.
I know now that we will never, ever get back together, and it would seem that you are very happy with your new girl. I hope it works out for you, I really do. But every now and again I would like you to think back on our time together and think as passionately and as fondly for me as I clearly do for you. We can’t talk now. I know it is too painful for both of us. Despite what I may say, I know you really did love me and we just made some very bad choices. I know that you cared though. You just distanced yourself like you warned me you’d do right at the beginning of us. I hope we can talk one day though – that mild flirtation and politeness you only manage with an ex. I want that. One day.
For now, that’s all I had to say. And I wish I had the brass balls to ever send you something like this. But I never will. For my eyes only, and that of my readers, of course.
You will always hold the biggest piece of my heart. I will always love you.