cara Esther,
I tell you this story hoping that my experience will help someone to avoid or at least recognize in time subjects so to speak “not positive for their self-esteem and their brain, as well as heart”. I meet R. At a bar, a friend of a friend… I see a world and my heart open up to me. We like each other, obviously, but at that moment it ends there and amen. But I I think and think about himto those wonderful eyes and I tell myself I have to see him again. I ask him for friendship on fb and I discover that he had asked a mutual friend about me but that he hadn’t been able to get my number due to embarrassment. Him, separated for about 8 months after a marriage that lasted more than 10 years… I’m single forty no children. We go out together we like each other… messages phone calls strike the spark we kiss.
August arrives we leave respectively with our friends but we talk every day several times and we want to see each other. We come back from vacation and we get together in a very romantic and almost adolescent way. Kisses little attentions… beautiful. I crush. After a couple of months I finish the renovation work on my house and he, who had graciously participated in the last few lines of the thing, start stopping by my weekends.
Where by weekend we mean Friday evening and Saturday because on Sunday he already runs away to go back to his home (that is, the marital home from which he has not left in which he still has the furniture and memories of a life with his ex-wife).
A few months go by and I express my willingness to have him with me at least on Sunday evenings or some other time because it seems “little” to me for two who love to see each other only on Fridays and Saturdays… he niches, slips away.
Some quarrels also due to cumbersome presence of the ex-wife who doesn’t leave him free and as a good manipulator she keeps him to herself for every bullshit (even though she’s with someone else). He says he cares about me, that he can’t code the Feeling but who cares and that I don’t have to rush him…
I try to do it but I repeat to myself “do you call it haste? It should be desire to be together! Do I want to get married? I just want to be with him more… have dinner or something.”
Months go by, we calm down, I avoid putting pressure on him, he always stays with me on weekends and holidays (Christmas, Easter, etc). The things were going very well, so well that I get pregnant. At first I did not believe it, then happiness! You will understand at the age of 40 without even looking for it in a spasmodic way but in this way, causally.
Beautiful beautiful I tell him. Happy, she cries with joy. He says it is a sign of destiny, that the Lord wanted to give us a sign etc etc. Let’s make love he told me so many times that he loves me that I don’t even remember the number. He happy, loving as ever. I go to the gynecologist with him and unfortunately I find out that there was no fetal heartbeat and at 7 weeks I have to abort. I am omitting the methods of abortion, painful, during which there was no closeness but we arrive at the crucial moment.
I have to hospitalize urgently because I was at risk of septicemia. My parents take me to the emergency room. He works. I take shelter and in the evening he goes to dinner with friends, because then what could I do? Otherwise, then I had to say about the pregnancy? And I couldn’t be there with you anyway?! Not a phone call the night I was with an IV attached to my arm hospitalized for losing her son, our son. The day after the operation… I leave the hospital and he doesn’t pick me up. He works. I arrive at my parents’ house who, in order not to make me be alone, welcome me with a heart full of pain. Lhe doesn’t come to see me. Not a flower, not a kiss. “But what do you want, coming to your parents embarrasses me”.
Nearly 50? The next day he leaves for a very important concert with friends he could not give up. And I’m home alone. He disappears for a whole day and I alone and depressed call him and yell at him all my resentment. I ask him to stay by my side, despite everything. I was too fragile to end the relationship with what was supposed to be the father of my child. My everything. I try love mixed with anger and disappointment for him who continues to do nothing to “recover”. Let’s go on vacation together I repeat I give it another chance.
Holidays that I too had to pay for because things get haphazard, “I’m not the wife”, he offered them to her. Needless to tell you thetragic epilogue after the holidays.
I have heard he didn’t love me and that in reality when he discovered that there was no heartbeat he felt liberated, because perhaps he was happy with fatherhood but not with motherhood?
Then he doesn’t know what he wants.
Sure not me.
But he didn’t remember before he got me pregnant.
Do you think Oxford or Cambridge is useful for such a lord?
THE.
Read all the episodes of Ester Viola’s column Defective Relationships here.
Esther Viola’s answer
Dear I.,
Ecce homo. Or at least, here’s a stinking specimen. You analyze the candidate as best you can without pining too much.
But let us leave him aside and consider everything. Why does this happen? Why do the deeply in love never coincide with the loved ones? Why does desire move towards what is most contrary to it? Why are certain apocalyptic insensitives the unsinkable stock on the market? Why are we here talking about it? Why doesn’t he have an ounce of sensitivity?
Why is too much love a buffer?
Let’s move the limit of sincerity to the borders, let’s say it clearly: being assholes is also a matter of circumstances. Random wounding is something that can happen. “Let people down without realizing it. The randomness of evil” – or of the art of coming out clean at all costs.
Yours is a clamorous case, I. but life very soon sets us apart from the direction of things: the smartass, the graduates of the academy “I do what makes me feel better”, with honors, are everywhere.
Unrequited love: certainty versus doubt
Don’t tell me this savage you met is the first. Those who leave you but then call you back, those who always write to each other and never see each other, those who would like to leave you but their heart breaks and in the meantime they audition the next victim, those who live under the only law: “when in doubt, have fun” . Those who immediately set things straight to wash their hands, then slap you for years, but with clean hands. The ones who told you how undecided they were. Those who suffered as children. Those already engaged but with variable intensity. Those who “I don’t love you anymore, but I’ll take four years to make you understand”. To finish with those who leave because “the climate in the house was fearingeven for children”, as if the climate in a house were made by the clouds.
These are them. The assholes, or whatever we want to call them.
Love and dislike
And on the other side? The poor Christ. You recognize the victim by the absence of energy. It is the ability to react that is lacking. And those who don’t have the energy to do anything, be patient. He forces himself not to think about it and he can’t even do that. Everything goes well because waiting for things to get better is the only defense. He’s innocent, the poor guy. This too can be character, inclination. It is clear that we are all rooting for him, even though we resist the urge to tug at his jacket and just tell him “but wake up, my son”.
We are at the conclusions. Below you will find the answers to the questions you had for me.
1) Is there a limit to the cruelties of lack of love?
No.
2) On the other hand, can they imagine the harm they do?
Not always.
3) How did the strong become strong?
Tiredness.
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