An element of trust
I saw him for the first time in over a year. I was sat in my dad’s car with my sweetheart nuzzling at my neck having just picked him up from the train station. I wasn’t expecting Him.
There wasn’t anything to it. I used to envision the time when by some small twist of fate we managed to be in the same place at the same time. I’d be loved up with my boyfriend on my arm and he’d be just as he always is, we’d exchange small talk and meaningful glances and then I’d walk away with no regrets. That was a long time ago.
Instead I stayed in the car silent. I waited until he’d got into his car and driven away before I left it. There’s nothing left to be gained by deliberately causing an encounter, and too much to be lost if I were to somehow appear even vaguely reminiscent.
I move in with my sweetheart in September. Or, more correctly, he moves in with me. My flatmate is leaving for reasons not entirely unforeseen and we’re going to see what it’s like to live together properly. We effectively do it now anyway. I told him everything before he agreed though. Once upon a time a girl made a mistake with a boy she’d loved for a long time, while she was starting a relationship with another man. And it was a long time ago, over a year and a half, only three months into our relationship. I still thought I was in love, and the other relationship didn’t seem that serious. That night I realised I was wrong on both counts, and regretted it almost immediately. But I stayed silent because what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, and hurting him seemed like such a waste when I’d realised I could never do anything like it again.
But he always wondered about that month I was away from him. I knew it, he knew it, and we just avoided talking about it. Mostly I forgot the experience entirely. It wasn’t until we started talking about living together that I started thinking about it all again. I felt horrible, immensely guilty. I even started having dreams in which I was almost on the point of infidelity with various nameless men, except just before the point I would push them off me, plea I was in love with someone else. It doesn’t take a dream dictionary to work out what they were relating to.
Sleeping around has never been a big deal to me. Sleeping with too many who had commitments was to be avoided simply to prevent complications. And sleeping around and causing hurt is always the biggest of sins- it’s a pleasure not something to cause pain. But it was a big deal to him and that’s what’s important.
So I told him. I told him I thought I’d been in love; I told him the circumstances and my reasoning at the time. I didn’t make any excuses, I hadn’t been drunk, and I wasn’t going to try and make it sound better than it was. I told him why I hadn’t told him until now, and I told him why I was telling him at all.
It was simple. I hate lying. I don’t feel that you can start a life with someone without complete trust and while he trusted me, it was a misplaced trust rather than something earned and worked at. However had it been just by my judgement I may not have told him even then, and everyone else told me not to. But he’d told me that whatever happened, if someone cheated on him, he’d want to know. He hates lies, and I trusted him. So I ignored everyone else, and trusted his judgement. He forgave me.
So I didn’t get out the car. I watched him and even felt a vague tugging to get out the car and go to him, but it was not due to attraction or even a small place left in my heart for him, but due to a wish to greet someone who had been a good friend. But nothing is worth hurting someone you love. So I watched, I waited, and when he’d finally gone I pulled my sweetheart out of the car and walked along happy knowing I was with the right person for me.
There wasn’t anything to it. I used to envision the time when by some small twist of fate we managed to be in the same place at the same time. I’d be loved up with my boyfriend on my arm and he’d be just as he always is, we’d exchange small talk and meaningful glances and then I’d walk away with no regrets. That was a long time ago.
Instead I stayed in the car silent. I waited until he’d got into his car and driven away before I left it. There’s nothing left to be gained by deliberately causing an encounter, and too much to be lost if I were to somehow appear even vaguely reminiscent.
I move in with my sweetheart in September. Or, more correctly, he moves in with me. My flatmate is leaving for reasons not entirely unforeseen and we’re going to see what it’s like to live together properly. We effectively do it now anyway. I told him everything before he agreed though. Once upon a time a girl made a mistake with a boy she’d loved for a long time, while she was starting a relationship with another man. And it was a long time ago, over a year and a half, only three months into our relationship. I still thought I was in love, and the other relationship didn’t seem that serious. That night I realised I was wrong on both counts, and regretted it almost immediately. But I stayed silent because what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, and hurting him seemed like such a waste when I’d realised I could never do anything like it again.
But he always wondered about that month I was away from him. I knew it, he knew it, and we just avoided talking about it. Mostly I forgot the experience entirely. It wasn’t until we started talking about living together that I started thinking about it all again. I felt horrible, immensely guilty. I even started having dreams in which I was almost on the point of infidelity with various nameless men, except just before the point I would push them off me, plea I was in love with someone else. It doesn’t take a dream dictionary to work out what they were relating to.
Sleeping around has never been a big deal to me. Sleeping with too many who had commitments was to be avoided simply to prevent complications. And sleeping around and causing hurt is always the biggest of sins- it’s a pleasure not something to cause pain. But it was a big deal to him and that’s what’s important.
So I told him. I told him I thought I’d been in love; I told him the circumstances and my reasoning at the time. I didn’t make any excuses, I hadn’t been drunk, and I wasn’t going to try and make it sound better than it was. I told him why I hadn’t told him until now, and I told him why I was telling him at all.
It was simple. I hate lying. I don’t feel that you can start a life with someone without complete trust and while he trusted me, it was a misplaced trust rather than something earned and worked at. However had it been just by my judgement I may not have told him even then, and everyone else told me not to. But he’d told me that whatever happened, if someone cheated on him, he’d want to know. He hates lies, and I trusted him. So I ignored everyone else, and trusted his judgement. He forgave me.
So I didn’t get out the car. I watched him and even felt a vague tugging to get out the car and go to him, but it was not due to attraction or even a small place left in my heart for him, but due to a wish to greet someone who had been a good friend. But nothing is worth hurting someone you love. So I watched, I waited, and when he’d finally gone I pulled my sweetheart out of the car and walked along happy knowing I was with the right person for me.
Labels: Mistakes
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