I just read a blog entry that reminded me of something I'm desperately ashamed of. So, of course, I must write about it immediately.
I was involved with someone online about seven years ago, and I was naive. I caused a lot of grief to people I will never know, and I regret that more than I can ever express. He had a step-son who was only about 4 years younger than I was, and he was 10 years my senior... I encouraged him to leave his wife, because I was in love with him in that achingly open and raw way I don't think I'll ever experience again. That relationship changed my whole experience of love in a profound way.
He was beautiful, and he polished the moon for me; made it shine a little brighter, and gave me the stars, one at a time.
I was so sure he loved me. It's hard to think he didn't. I couldn't give him space; I just had to hold tighter, because... I don't know. It's so hard to explain. It felt like I was losing a piece of myself; the best part of me. The beautiful me. The part he made special.
His wife asked him to come back and try and work things out. He chose to go back, but he needed a break first. He went on a trip, far far away. He decided that he didn't want to go back to his family; he wanted to stay where he was. So he came back, packed up, and moved there.
I stole that boy's only father figure. I'd like to apologise, but how do you begin to do something like that?
I'm sorry I invited this man to leave you when you really needed his presence.
The awful thing? I don't think I'd feel badly about it if he and I had ended up together. I'd be too wrapped up in me.
I broke that family. He made the choice, and I realize he's ultimately responsible, but. . . I can't cop out like that. I do carry blame for it.