Love Harder

SWITZERLAND.2

At that moment, I knew why his ghosting me hurt; it hurt because I loved him. I had fallen in love with him without consent. Love didn’t ask permission. It just made me fall and fall hard without an instruction manual, and I was just expected to know how to survive.

And now that I finally knew, I had to come to terms with the fact that he loved someone other than me.

I wanted a do-over.

“You owe me an explanation.”

He nodded, eyes downcast as if needing time to gather his thoughts.

“I do.”

Silence…

But no.

He had more than enough time to formulate a reply. He had WEEKS…so his silence wasn’t going to fly.

“You just vanished. What happened? I was worried…” I couldn’t express anger because all I felt was sadness.

The anger was still there, but my heart just hurt. It took precedence over all.

“I…I wasn’t happy. I didn’t like the person I was. I was lonely.”

“What…happened?” I asked once again because that wasn’t an excuse.

Every person on this earth feels that way in their lifetime—it’s what they do about it and how they treat others that distinguishes them from the rest.

“I…I got back together with my ex.”

“Ex-wife?”

He nodded, and he looked…I don’t know what adjective to use.

Sad, perhaps?

While I was just numb.

“And you couldn’t tell me this?” I ask because it’s not that hard.

It’s actually very simple.

He finally met my eyes, and all I saw was torture in his.

I was unmoved, however.

Those walls I spoke of? They were now a hundred feet high and made of nothing but barbed wire and electrified, just for good measure.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t like hurting people.”

“You hurt me by not talking to me. You hurt me by ghosting me. You hurt me by doing the one thing I asked you not to do.”

Again, he cast his eyes downward. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

And there was that word I so desperately wanted to hear…

Sorry.

That word bears so much significance and represents so much.

But now that I’ve heard it, did I feel better?

Was the sadness and pain which plagued me for months finally about to go away? Would I leave here exorcised of the demons of love and be able to find my happily ever after?

The answer is, sometimes, no amount of sorrys can make anything okay.

Yes, closure is nice, but does it lessen the pain?

No, it does not.

And that’s how I felt.

I still felt numb.

I still felt sad.

I still felt overcome with pain because I loved someone…but he didn’t love me back.

No amount of sorrys will ever fix that because I guess the song rings true; it’s too late to apologize.

“I don’t like confrontation.”

“Am I confronting you now?”

“No.”

“I just don’t understand how you could vanish like that.”

“Ten years is a long time, as you know,” he added as he knew all about my previous marriage. “Her family knows mine.”

Blah, blah, blah…

I tuned out after this because all I heard was excuses. All I heard was Ghost using elaborate words when only a few would have sufficed, and they were: I am selfish and dishonest, and would rather hurt you than hurt myself.

There are no justifications for his behavior.

He knew what he was doing when he chose to ignore my many messages, messages that were filled with love. Messages that expressed my pain that he was MIA.

But he didn’t care because he chose the easy way out instead of being a decent human being.

“She wanted to reconcile, and ten years…it’s a long time.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

Each time he spoke, he just appeared sadder and sadder.

I didn’t understand it.

Wasn’t he back with her because he was unhappy without her? He certainly didn’t look any happier now.

So I asked the inevitable. “Are you happy?”

He looked at me, really looked at me, and sighed; a long-winded breath.

“Umm…”

The pause and noncommittal response were answer enough.

A small part of me was pleased to hear that he wasn’t happy—I hated that part. That part needed to say ten Hail Marys and repent for being such a shitty human being.

Why was he with her when it’s apparent he was clearly unhappy?

I didn’t understand this.

“Was everything you said a lie, then? Or was it genuine? Was it real? Were we?”

His expression softened. “Of course it wasn’t a lie. It was real. My feelings were real. Everything was. I still wan—”

I waited for the punchline, but there was none.

It was real, but in the end, I wasn’t enough for him…but that’s okay because I realized something, and that was…I was too much.

Too much heart.

Too much kindness.

And too much love.

The simple fact is that Ghost didn’t deserve me.

I wanted a man who wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I wanted a man who fought for me. Not someone who couldn’t have the common decency to tell me he had rekindled with his wife.

That man is a man I do not want.

No woman should because, ladies…we deserve more.

We deserve our fairy-tale ending because…

We.

Are.

Worth.

It.

Ghost continued making excuses, but by this point, I was done.

Zuko came back and asked if everything was all right.

I nodded because I had checked out.

Zuko was still adamant about the cover, and honestly, I would do it for him if he wanted. He was able to bring me some sense of peace with Ghost, so I could do this.

“If you both agree to the cover, then we will have to do a screen test to make sure there’s chemistry between the two of you.”

I deadpanned Ghost, who grinned.

“Oh, there’s chemistry there. Don’t worry about that.”

Again, that impious part of me celebrated because I was happy to know he felt this chemistry too. That chemistry was there the second our eyes locked and hadn’t diminished. In fact, it was probably worse.

But what good would that do me?

He wanted to fuck me—great, but that doesn’t mean he respected me.

It meant the total opposite, in fact.

It meant he had chemistry with someone who wasn’t his wife.

Bad dog…

And I was raised better than that.

I folded my arms and gave him a stiff upper lip.

Zuko was talking, but I wasn’t listening because I was looking at Ghost, the man who I allowed to consume my life.

Yes, he was still the hottest man I’ve ever seen. And his teeth were in fact still rather cute, which I did mention in a weak moment as he smiled at me. But now that I knew the truth, I looked at him in a different light.

Perhaps I took him off his pedestal and saw him for who he really was—a man who didn’t fight for me.

He was still adamant that he was self-conscious and had body dysmorphia, which, again, I knew to be true as it was something he touched on often when we were together.

“I don’t know why you want me on a cover. I’m not photogenic at all.”

I scoffed because he was so photogenic it made me sick. I liked that he never believed it, though. He was such an oxymoron. He comes across as confident, but deep down, he was far from it.

The longer we spoke, the more comfortable he grew. That was something that remained the same. When together, there was never silence…oh, except of course when he ghosted me for weeks.

“My nails aren’t painted black,” he said, extending his hands out for me to see.

On instinct, I reached for them, and the moment we touched, I knew our feelings were real.

He gave me his hands, and I took the offering, touching him for the first time since he left me. The chemistry between us left me breathless, and I often needed to inhale deeply because it felt like I couldn’t get enough air fast enough.

It was beyond ridiculous.

I asked why they weren’t black, as it was something he knew I liked. I found it interesting he decided to bring this up. He knew I found his black-painted nails incredibly sexy, so to mention it confused me.

But that seemed to be a common thing when Ghost was involved.

He didn’t move his hands away, and replied with a smirk, “I can’t find a black nail polish that stays on.”

Okay, now we were just engaging in small talk. Yet I couldn’t stop.

“There are so many you can buy,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully.

He simply smiled.

Our banter had never left.

Neither had our feelings, apparently.

But where did that leave me?

Confused, that’s what.

I pulled my hand away because I could feel that gravitational pull threatening to drag me under once more. And I couldn’t do that.

Zuko asked once more about the cover, and it was apparent that Ghost was mulling over the possibility of doing it. The thought of being pressed up against my ex in intimate poses was a little too much. But I wondered if perhaps we did this, would something change?

But what was there to change?

Ghost had made his choice, and he didn’t choose me.

I needed to accept that.

Yes, it was a fucking slap to the face, but I came here for answers, and I got them.

Ghost was still fixed on his insecurities as to why he was in two minds about the shoot, but I set him clear as I stood, hinting our time was over.

“Let’s be honest. No one will be looking at you. It’s all about me,” I said, tongue in cheek.

Those eyes smoldered as he didn’t make it a secret that he still wanted me as much as I did him. “Ain’t that the truth.”

I needed to leave, like now.

We walked toward the exit, and everything came crashing down. This was the last time I would see Ghost as I had a feeling he wouldn’t do the shoot. And when your gut talks to you, listen to it.

I committed this moment to memory because I would never have another like it ever again.

I remember his smell; he always smelled so good.

I remember how nervous and sad he appeared to say goodbye.

And I remember me letting him go.

I softly bumped my shoulder into his, as there was no way I was hugging him farewell. But he turned around and met me head-on. I couldn’t push past him, as he was standing in my way.

The last alpha move he was to make.

We simply stared at one another, and I suppose it’s because we both knew this was goodbye.

I wish this was a moment in the movies where the MCs realize love prevails all, and they live happily ever after. But this was real life. It was my life, and I knew I had to write the closing line to our turbulent love story.

He stepped forward and hugged me tight. “Take care.”

I was lost in his arms.

I was lost in who Ghost was.

I was lost to the man who made me feel something when I thought I was dead inside. And although our story didn’t end how I wanted, it ended.

I wasn’t left wondering.

I was no longer a ghostee.

I was a survivor.

Not a casualty.

And now, it was time for me to heal.

“You too,” I whispered, eyes closed as I said goodbye to the boy I loved.

And that’s how our story ends…

Life is a fucking ride.

Up and down.

Side to side.

We don’t know what’s coming our way.

I thought Switzerland had checked out, but it’s funny because living this life, my life, one would think I was the decider of my own fate. But that’s not how life works. It seems as though we’re in the passenger seat, watching life take turns we don’t want to take.

Switzerland was leaving in fifteen days.

I knew it.

He knew it.

He was chilled.

I was not.

His leaving hit me one night, and I just cried.

I cried because Switzerland showed me that good men did exist. He was everything I wanted, yet he was leaving forever.

We grew closer, which is against the sensible rules he laid down. But being with him was as innate as breathing. I didn’t have to try. We often lay together in silence, and it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was still.

He would know something was wrong, however. He would often ask what caused my many sighs when I was deep in thought. Or asked what I was thinking when I was quiet.

He just knew.

I don’t know how he knew.

He just did.

I often caught him looking at me and asked what he was looking at.

He would just smile.

The memories I have of him are ones I will cherish for the rest of my days. Even though he occupies such a small time in my life, his impact was so vast.

The times we spent in his room or mine were ones of happiness and laughter.

He shared so much with me.

Trust is a beautiful thing. I honestly think it is one of the most purest things in the world.

So when Switzerland opened up and told me things about himself that explained who he was, and why he acted the way he did, I just fell even harder for him.

There wasn’t an exact moment.

There never is.

Because love hits you when you least expect it…and we’re never ready for the fall.

Those days leading up to him leaving, we spoke about a lot. We spoke about absolutely everything. There’s a turning point in the time you spend with someone when things just become natural, and that’s how I felt with Switzerland.

I told him about Ghost and Mr. J. He simply listened, letting me spew forth my tragic past, only to hug me when I was done.

The more time I spent with him, the more I liked. But there was always the big fat elephant in the room—he was leaving.

I wanted to tell him to stay so many times. But I didn’t want to be selfish. I knew what I was getting myself into from the moment we met. He never lied to me and was always upfront. I understood why he set down those rules.

But it didn’t matter.

When someone tells me not to do something, I do the opposite.

Everything between us became more intense, and I guess that’s what happens when you let someone in.

He would read my facial cues.

I would read his.

I would live for his hands around me when he pulled me close and kissed the back of my shoulder.

I died small deaths when he would say, “That’s my girl.”

Switzerland was loyal.

He was honest.

But I never knew how he felt.

And I guess he didn’t know how I felt either.

Each second was counting down to ugly tears, and M?tley, she told me I had to tell him. I had to tell him how I felt. She said even once, just tell him that you don’t want him to go.

But I couldn’t.

That was selfish. And I hated myself that that was exactly how I felt.

I knew he was leaving.

So perhaps I could tell him because I would want to know if the tables were turned. I wasn’t expecting anything in return. I just needed him to know how I felt.

So just how words have done my entire life, they saved me once more.

I wrote him a letter, expressing how I felt.

It was scary because regardless of feelings, I knew it wouldn’t change the reality that he was going. But that’s not the reason I wrote it. I wrote it because I never wanted any regrets with Switzerland. He was something special. And I had to say goodbye.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never keep him.

But you know what? It would be okay because as long as he was happy pursuing his dreams, I could live with why I had to let him go.

I was fighting a losing battle but it didn’t make a difference, he was worth it to me.

Switzerland’s response to the letter was mixed.

I left it on his doorstep with a gift I had bought. I didn’t want to be there when he read the letter because I knew what his response would be.

He sent me a text early the following morning thanking me for the gift. He asked when a good time to call would be.

Um, never…