He’s gone. And not for the reason I thought he might. He really likes me it seem but he’s gone anyway.
He’s struggling with the long distance between us, and for us to just exist as weekends. He’s struggling with the inflexibility it causes, and that we’re not being real just a series of weekends of doing stuff together. He’s struggling with the rollercoaster of emotions it causes, as much as me it seems.
My heart is broken again. But now more so it feels. I found someone who I really wanted to be with, who I could see a future with, who loves everything I love. But he loves the river and rowing in the same way I love hills and walking – as an emotional release – and the distance means there isn’t a happy medium for us. He can’t see how we’d ever have a future we’d both be happy with.
He’s left, having said he feels like he’s making the wrong decision and needs to decide what he wants without feeling like he’s stringing me along. For that I’m grateful, but I’m still crying. At least I managed to tell him I love him without feeling like I couldn’t and without seeming like I was trying to change his mind.
He’s left, having said that he may change his mind. He also hopes we’ll still go walking as friends. I’d love to still see him again, but it would hurt too much, and I’m then letting him have everything he wants with no commitment.
I’m grateful though, for all the fun we’ve had. For the belief he gave me that I deserved better and showing me that better existed. For giving me the chance to be free. For treating me like I was special. For Venice.
I appreciate him not wanting to string me along and wanting to go away to see how much he misses me. But I’m still sorry he left. And I don’t expect him to be back.