We had been seeing each other for six months, and I had come to feel that we were so perfectly matched. Intellectually, socially, sexually. It wasn’t a fairytale, but it felt as though it was. I allowed myself to relax into it because he had told me that he loved me, and that was my permission, right? I often cooked dinner at his house, but I never got to meet his family. We went to plays and events and movies, but he never came to my place. He would call me at all hours, wanting my voice, my company, my help, my advice. I felt wanted, needed, loved, and understood.
And then it stopped.
I went on holidays for 4 weeks – a trip he refused to join me on – and halfway through, he stopped communication. No more replies to emails or texts. I tried to call and he didn’t pick up. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that it broke my heart. Chewed it up.
When I returned, it was another 2 weeks before he texted me to say “So, you’re back”. I think that by then I knew it was not worth asking for an explanation. If I had pushed for any answers it would have been the “crazy” behaviour he needed to dismiss me. So I just told him that I was disappointed with his behaviour & I wanted my stuff back.
I lost 8kgs, many nights of sleep, and a pair of pliers that he didn’t return. Looking back now, it was worth it, to be rid of him.