Third Time’s Not a Charm

Sometimes the third time’s not a charm.

I’ve been proposed to three times.

The first, I was between three and five. A friend of my parents jokingly said he should marry me when I asked why he wasn’t married. The second was my freshman year in college. I was cast in a student-directed show and, at a party a few weeks before the performance, my on stage “husband” got totally smashed, staggered over to me, sat in my lap, and said we had to get married.

The third time was this past week. On Facebook messenger. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a joke like the first two. A mere acquaintance had decided he was in love with me and wanted to move half-way around the world to marry me. I didn’t accept.

Some suggestions for potential suitors (of me or anyone else).

1. Make sure your intended actually likes you. You should have spent quite a bit of time together talking and getting to know each other on a deep level. 
2. Do it in person. If you aren’t together in person enough for this to be possible, it’s probably not going to work.
3. Discuss life goals and dreams prior to proposing. Check that they are compatible or you have discussed possible compromises.
4. If your intended doesn’t respond favorably, it’s possible you misjudged the situation. Step back and check that suggestions 1-3 have been addressed. 

Of course, you can also feel free to ignore my suggestions and see what happens. After all, what do I know... I’m just someone who’s been proposed to thrice.

Open Letter to Myself of 5 Years Ago

7-1-16

Dear Rose,

                I won’t lie, the next few weeks will suck. You don’t know this yet, but you won’t sleep for the next two days and you will feel terrible. This is your gut telling you to get out of the situation. You won’t do it at first, but after stewing for a few weeks and talking to your “twin” Jen, you will break free. It will take time to recover. While you will get heartbroken in the future, I hope and pray this is the only time you will ever get your mind broken. You will get through it! Don’t beat yourself up when it takes time to heal! You’ve given six months of your life to someone who has sucked you into his warped way of thinking. It will be years before you go to Mass without either feeling guilty because your shirt is “too low cut” or doing it on purpose out of defiance. But these years will pass.

                This isn’t the only challenge you will go through in the coming years. You will meet more Mr. Collinses. Someone you hoped would be a Darcy will turn out to be a Wickam of the vilest sort. And it’s not only in romantic relationships that you will struggle.

                In less than two months, you will be forced to make an excruciating decision. You will know what you have to do, and will do it, but it will rip your heart out. The months after that will be miserable. You will feel close to ok, only to have a friend betray you, or a carpet ripped out from under your feet. You will spend countless hours trapped in your parents’ house wanting to die. It won’t be all bad, however! You will be come much closer to Helen and John. Helen will become one of your best friends. She was a little kid when you left for college and now you’ll get to know her as a young adult. Eventually, you will get a job. Not a good one – but you will enjoy it. And, in the end, this experience will lead you to a career that you love.

                Let me tell you a little more about the next few years. After ten months in the US, you will move back to Hungary. While teaching on the eastern side of the country, you will fall in love – with teaching. The next summer, you will, willingly, move back to the US for grad school. Two years later, you will end up in CHINA. The next summer, you will take the Trans-Mongolian Railway from Beijing to Russia. After that, I can’t tell you; I haven’t lived it yet!

                These years won’t be easy either. You will make and lose friends. You will be betrayed and maligned by someone you trusted. But you will make it!

                Five years to the day after that airport meeting, you will walk down the street in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, almost crying as you mentally compose this letter. None of this would have happened if you had tried to make that relationship work. In the end, you probably would have gotten your heart broken along with your mind. (For future reference, if the idea of kissing someone makes you feel ill, you probably should date them!)

                Today, you are adventurous, happy, living a full life, and FREE. There might be a relationship in your future, but, for now, you are too busy living your life to mind being single.

                I’m going to close now before the tears escape the corners of my eyes and the Mongolian family in my cabin on the train think I’m nuts. I am so proud of all you/I have accomplished and I can’t wait to see what’s next!

                I’m rooting for you!

                                                Rose

The men of Pride and Prejudice ... and me

It's been two years. Two years since I started the most damaging relationship of my life. Six months of getting caught and dragged into the mindset of someone who has even larger mental issues than I do. My counselor once laughed (kindly) when I expressed my anger that I wasn't "over" the situation. She said that like a broken leg or any other injury, things take time to heal. That was three months after the relationship ended. I wonder what she would say if she saw me now. It's been a year and a half since I broke up with him. I'm still angry. I wish I could be the bigger person and wish him well. I know he didn't mean to destroy me the way he did. Tonight, I realized another piece of the puzzle. How can he be over me (at least, I hope he is when he's back on the dating site where we met - something I adamantly refuse to do) when I am still a wreck? I guess it takes less time to heal a broken heart than a broken mind.

I've been thinking about Pride and Prejudice lately. That book has never been one of my favorites. I tried reading it when I was 10 or 11, had to read it in 8th grade, and then tried at least once after that. While I have always enjoyed the film adaptations, the book just irritated me. That changed in the past month. I have been watching (and loving) The Lizzie Bennet Diaries on youtube for months. This modern adaptation of P&P is quirky, hilarious, and engaging. Without saying too much about it, I highly recommend it. Now that I've reread and actually "get" P&P, I've been thinking about it almost non-stop. I've realized that I've liked, dated, and/or been liked by nearly every man in the book in some form or another.

Mr. Collins - had Lizzie married him, it would have destroyed her mind. Her heart as well, but currently, I think a broken mind is worse. I had to laugh when I saw an interview with the actor who plays Mr. Collins on LBD. His description of the role sounds just like the person mentioned above as well as others who have tried to get that close.

Wickham (hardly deserves a title) - such a despicable human being. While he broke Lizzie's heart, she was lucky enough not to have been close enough to have given him her mind. I liked one. Not enough to have my heart was broken when his true colors were revealed, thankfully, but enough to be filled with disgust and anger over someone who could exploit the innocent in such a way.  Thankfully, as in the book, his situation has permanently changed to prevent further occurrences.

Fitzwilliam - at least in the world of LBD - every girl's best friend. Doesn't do well with more than that.

Bingley (or Bing Lee - LBD) - a kind, gentleman but, ultimately, too gentle for Lizzie. At least the Bing's that I have liked have retained my respect after the attraction faded.

I'm missing one. Oh, right, Mr. Darcy.

Sigh. I like to think there is one out there for me. Who knows.

Dear Subconscious: Shut Up.

It's been almost a year since my decision to swear off relationships. Most of the year has been fine. So much has happened (crap and otherwise) that a relationship would have just complicated everything. Not to mention the fact that I truly believe it's better for society if I am single. The past few weeks, my subconscious has been rebelling against me. So many strange dreams about me being with different guys in all sorts of romantic situations. Possibly the result of too much Downton Abbey, who knows. The most frustrating thing is that I know most of the guys I'm dreaming about. And, for the most part, I've either dated or wanted to date them IN THE PAST. For a variety of reasons (good, bad, and neutral), none of them are date-able and that's fine. I don't want to date them or anyone else.

I've woken up gagging over a dream to free a criminal so that I could marry him.

I've woken up bewildered after a dream in which I was married to a gay guy.

There have been plenty of others which I don't remember all the details.

Last night, I had a cute dream about being on a school camping trip with a ton of people (we were students) and sneaking into this guy's (not someone I know) room so that we could pray night prayer together. Apparently, neither of us knew that the other was interested but it seemed like we were on the brink of finding out when I woke up. I had a split view both first person and third person omniscient but then the way he had his arm around me wasn't exactly subtle either. This was definitely the most "realistic" of the dreams I've had lately in terms of what I could see myself actually doing (minus being students) had I not sworn off relationships. I wish I could want it to be reality.

I definitely do not believe this dream "means" anything. The last time I had a dream which I thought was foreshadowing turned into a big mess. First, I thought the guy was a neighbor of my parents' who I MAY have spoken 100 words to in my entire life. Second, it was a new student at my uni who I proceeded to pine over for two years. I later became friends with his girlfriend (now fiancée) and she found it hilarious that her boyfriend had been the "man of my dreams." Thirdly, I thought it was my rad-trad ex from last summer -- definitely the worst option out of the bunch.

So, I don't think my dream last night meant anything. But it didn't help that I saw someone who looked just like a "grown up" version of the guy. Sure, the guy is attractive. Yes, I noticed that he didn't have a ring (on either hand). But, NO, I am not going to try and meet him, obsess over him, etc. etc. like myself a year ago would have. My track record just isn't worth it. (And that's not even considering my "slightly older Hungarian man" record because I do not hold one disgusting person's transgressions against a country which condemns his actions just as much as the US does.)

Seriously, though, the dreams need to stop.

Smoking and a deer

My two favorite moments about Valentine's Day yesterday were a man smoking a cigarette and a song about a deer. A close second (which would probably be first if it actually happened on the day) was a comment from Mass on Sunday.

It's been just over a year since one of the worst mistakes of my life began. Thankfully, it's also been about six months since it finally ended. I can dwell on the "if only I had known"s but that wouldn't change the facts. I ended up in a toxic relationship. I allowed that person to affect multiple areas of my life which they really had no business interfering with. I am dealing with the results. While there is still a long way to go, I am making progress. More and more days I make it through Mass without thinking about the fact that I'm wearing pants or worrying if my shirt is cut lower than "two finger-widths below the pit of the throat" OR snarkily wearing a shirt precisely because it's cut lower than that (I can assure you that if anyone EVER tries to admonish me about those blasted two fingers again I will tell them exactly what they can do with them). My medicine doesn't get a second thought . . . well, except for needing to talk to my doctor about upping the dosage or finding something else because after almost weaning all the way off of them in the fall they aren't enough anymore. Even knowing that there was a chance Mass would be a TLM, I still went to St. Pete's on Sunday, admittedly telling myself over and over "even if it's TLM, it's still Jesus' Mass and no one else's. I don't go on the guy's blog or check facebook. I haven't even been on Catholic Match since December.

But Valentine's Day was nice. I was walking across the FUS campus to daily Mass when I happened to be behind a student smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke. Never have, never will. And I'm not a big fan of smoking in general. But as I smelled that smoke for a few seconds I realized again just how free I really am. No one can yell at me because I'm "endangering my future children" because the five seconds of second-hand smoke exposure will harm my eggs thereby resulting in deformed descendents (I wish I was kidding). No one can embarrass me by loudly exclaiming "EWWWW SMOKE!!!" and pulling me to the other side of the street (again, I wish I wasn't speaking from personal experience). No, I am free. And in that moment of smoke, my freedom was clear as day.

The second moment of Valentine's Day was at the end of church choir practice. I had jokingly told the choir director last week that if I "had to be at choir practice on Valentine's Day we had better be singing more of the Tallis and Palestrina and less of the rest" although, the music we're working on now is nothing compared to some pieces we've done (in the words of my sister "kum ba ya by any other name is still kum ba ya"). We had gotten to nearly the end of rehearsal and neither of those pieces had shown themselves. Finally, as the last piece, our director passed out Sicut Cervus by Palestrina. We sang through and I realized (not for the first time) that my love of this piece of music is one of the few things that I shared with my ex with which I do not have negative associations. I think that comes from the fact that I had loved it long before he was part of my life and I will continue loving it now that he is no longer part of my life. In any case, I'm very glad that I didn't "lose" it in the mess.

Finally, Sunday was World Marriage Day. As I mentioned, I went to a different parish and so, got to hear a homily by a priest I rarely see. There were a set of very interesting coincidences about this particular Mass.

1. The priest preached about marriage (OK, not surprising as it was World Marriage Day)
2. The girls sitting in front of me thought that was funny.
   
3. I'm pretty sure their amusement was due to the fact that they are two of his granddaughters.
   
4. Yes, Mass on World Marriage Day was celebrated by a married priest (he used to be Episcopal)
   
5. Fr. mentioned at the end of Mass that it was also the 29th anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood.
   

While that collection of coincidences was fascinating, my favorite thing was something he mentioned in his homily. He told the story of a couple who were meeting with their pastor for the last pre-marriage counseling session before the wedding. The priest told the couple that everything they had learned about the Catholic Church's teachings on marriage could be summed up in one sentence: "And the two shall become one." The groom-to-be nervously asked "which one?"

On hearing this story, the congregation appropriately chuckled and then Fr. continued, reassuring us, as the other priest had the groom-to-be, that this did not mean that the couple would become totally absorbed into one indistinguishable entity. According to Pope Paul VI in Humanae Vitae, they do become one in a mystical sense while retaining their individual personalities and the like. Although I have no plans to get married, this was such a relief to hear articulated. At one point in our relationship, I had been chatting with my ex about the idea of women keeping their last names when they married (yet another red flag -- we should NOT have been talking about marriage a few months into a friendship when we hadn't even spoken to each other let alone met). He vehemently opposed the idea saying that by keeping her maiden name a woman was "saying the marriage meant nothing more than a partnership and not a true two become one union." I tried to articulate what I believed (basically what Fr. described on Sunday) but he still disagreed. The only concession that I managed to get out of him was "well I suppose you still have individual souls." God help the woman (if she exists) that marries him.

As I'm sure as been evident by this post, I'm still a mess. Healing from this relationship is going to take plenty of time and the other circumstances which have surrounded it don't make it any easier. I'm trying not to be bitter and, in some strange way, the fact that I'm done with relationships has helped. I pity my ex as he has many issues (some of which he can help and others not as much) which may prevent him from having the type of relationship he wants. All I know is how thankful I am to be out of the situation.

I can't want it, anymore

I'm ready for 2011 to be over. It's been such a crazy, long year filled with one crap-tastic misadventure after another. Yes, there have been good things too, but I feel like I've dealt with an overabundance of crud. And some of it has really caused me to reevaluate my life. Specifically the area of relationships.

The title of this post quotes a song from the musical Wicked. I can really relate to the whole song right now, but these lines in particular came to mind this weekend:

GLINDA: Elphie, listen to me.
Just say you're sorry
You can still be with the Wizard
What you've worked and waited for
You can have all you ever wanted
ELPHABA: I know
But I don't want it
- No - I can't want it
Anymore

As Elphaba continues to say, I feel like "something has changed within me; something is not the same." My whole life, getting married and having kids was just what I expected would happen. This was strengthened by the fact that I grew up in a town where many people do just that at a young age. And, for some people, that is exactly the right thing.

I went to a baptism this weekend. My childhood-best-friend and her husband were having baby #4 baptized. Things were hectic with all the guests and visitors and tons of kids running around, but when I saw her last year (at that point with 3 little ones) she seemed happier than I've ever seen her. And I'm glad for her and her family. But I can't even begin to imagine living that life. It's just not me.

And that's ok.

The past few months have changed my focus on relationships. I've gone from praying constantly for "mysterious future husband" to "mysterious future husband who I'm pretty sure is XXX but don't know for certain" to halfheartedly being back on CatholicMatch and finally, to where I am today:

I don't think I'm meant to get married. And, based on my progressively worsening experiences with guys, that's probably the best thing for society. Over the past few days, I've looked back at my past relationships and relationships I wanted to exist. With the exception of one great guy whose personality and mine would have created a giant disaster, I have had some pretty "special" experiences. Stalker, a holier-than-thou porn addict, the gay guy, rad-trad whose extreme views I'm still recovering from, the list could go on. (Haven't actually dated all of these guys but they liked me and/or I liked them and/or we dated) However, none of those hold a candle to the latest disaster.

Who is in jail.

Now, before everyone gets super worried, I'm fine. I wasn't involved nor was I in a relationship with the person (THANK GOD for both of those facts!). All the same, it was such a shock because no one would have ever expected what happened and he was someone who I really respected. And, unfortunately, it's not something quite as benign as running one too many stop lights.

So, especially since this comes on the heals of this summer, I'm just completely disenchanted by the idea of a relationship. It just seems to be the wrong thing for me to want. I want to sing. Yes, I realize that swearing off guys does not guarantee a career as a performer but that's what I'm going to focus on now.

After the baptism yesterday, I went to Pittsburgh and auditioned for an opera with a small opera company. Those two events, juxtaposed, really clarified things in my mind. Maybe it's just that "I can't want it, anymore." And, if that's the case, at least for today, I'm fine with it.

This cool guy I met in Madrid

I promise that I will write about everything that happened during WYD, but if I had to sum it up... I'd have to simply tell you all about this guy that I met.

Before I left, at least two of my friends here made comments about how amazing it would be if I met someone in Madrid. Coming off of this summer (and the months leading up to it), I wasn't sure if I wanted that to happen or really hoped it wouldn't. Taking into account all the gory details not included in my blog post (and there were many, unfortunately, even continuing after the relationship ended), things just got really ugly. I understand that this guy was lashing out because he was hurt. However, that didn't make it any easier. Add in a heavy dose of "Catholic guilt" due to some rad-trad beliefs that he has and I was a mess. Although I doubt he meant to, some things that I heard over and over again really gave me a beating. These aren't doctrines or dogma. Nothing that is essential to Catholic teaching. To sum it up... I do not believe that a woman has to wear a high-necked shirt with a long skirt and a veil to be modest. Modesty is awesome, don't get me wrong. And I definitely consider myself modest. But, when I'm subjected to talk about legalistic rules, I want nothing more than to put on a bikini and go to the beach. When Jesus appears to me and tells me that I must only wear blouses dipping no lower than two finger widths below the pit of my throat and a skirt that fully covers my knees while sitting or standing, I'll listen to Him. Until then, I'll have to keep fighting this ridiculous guilt over nothing. Honestly, when I think about it, what comes to mind is Eowyn's comment to Wormtongue in the Two Towers: "Your words are poison!" ... minus the evil intent.

What does any of that have to do with WYD in Madrid?

Well, my friends were right - sort of. I did meet a guy in Madrid. But then, I've known Him for years. Even so, I really needed the week away with Him. Jesus is the only one who can heal my heart and clean up this mess that I've gotten into. And WYD was the beginning of that. Through the people around me, speakers, bishops, Papa Ben (of course!), and just the general atmosphere, He was present in so many ways. But nothing compares to the sacraments. I was blessed to spend time in adoration twice (technically thrice if you count the Saturday vigil but I wasn't participating in that much for reasons which I'll get into later) -- there is nothing more beautiful than gazing at the very face of God and letting Him gaze back at you... except for receiving Him at Mass. I really needed to go to confession (yet another very tangible expression of His love) and had the chance - finally - on Friday morning. While I don't recommend getting into such a situation, after not being able to receive Communion before I went to the sacrament of reconciliation, it was incredible to to to Mass directly after. Although knowing that I was still so unworthy, being able to welcome Christ into a "freshly cleaned house" was priceless.

SO, was my future husband in Madrid? No clue. I kind of doubt it, even though I met some awesome people and there were more than a million who I didn't meet, but I don't know for sure. And, theoretically, there is always the option of religious life... although there really aren't many opera singing nuns. In any case, the week was spent rediscovering the love of the One who has always loved me and can never stop and, especially right now, that was better than being with anyone else.

What I did this summer (Part 4)

The promised story of my trip to the States... Again, without all the gory details. And, I'll do my best to have it make sense... well, at least as much sense as this story can make.

I love socks. I have for as long as I can remember. Some people go out and buy movies or overeat or get drunk or etc. when they are angry/sad/frustrated. Not me. Buying socks is one of the most common things I do in those situations. But this story doesn't start with me buying socks... at least not recently.

Once upon a time, I bought a pair of socks. Well, once upon a million times I've bought socks, but this time in particular, I bought a little pair of pretty pink ankle socks with the inscription: "Kiss Me, I'm Single." I loved those socks. They were cute, comfortable, and I liked the message. No, I didn't want some random guy to come up and kiss me because I was single, but I really wouldn't have minded meeting someone who might change both my (seemingly) perpetual single-ness and my status as "23-and-never-been-kissed." However, year after year went by and no such guy appeared. Until, it seemed, this January.

For the past five years or so, I've had an account on CatholicMatch. (**despite this story, I do believe this website is a great thing, I've heard plenty of success stories and I may be back on CM at some point**) Sometimes, it was active, sometimes not. I had communicated with a handful of guys from around the US but nothing seemed to "click" until this year.

At the end of January, I began communicating with a guy from Texas. I was thrilled. Here was this guy I could talk to about anything, Catholic, had direction - was pursuing a medical-ish degree, similar values (although, I realized pretty early on that he was much more conservative than I... and it takes quite a lot for someone like me to say that), a number of the same interests, etc. The emails quickly became pages long and CM chat was cumbersome, so within the first few weeks we moved to skype chat (just type -- no voice/video). These skype chats soon became an enormous part of my life. Hours and hours at a time were dedicated to chatting with him.

Things were progressing rapidly. By mid-March, he had bought a plane ticket to come out and visit me in Steubenville this summer. We were sharing pretty much everything about our lives with each other. That only increased when we started actually speaking at the end of April. This was building up and building up towards July 1st and neither of us expected that it would do anything but continue to grow past that. My friends and family were generally very supportive with the exception of one sister who insisted that "this summer would be awful. I would get my heart broken and move back to Budapest lonely and depressed." While I didn't put much stock in her fear (it seemed to be motivated out of jealousy more than anything else), I did recognize that no matter how unlikely I felt that to be, it was still a possibility.

Finally, I arrived back in the States on June 26th with less than a week until he was coming to visit. The next few days were filled with cleaning and organizing the house, getting over jet lag, and freaking out. (One of the most memorable moments was when we discovered that the caulking which had just been used on the bathtub would render the only shower unusable for a day and a half before the time he was to arrive... Miriam, bless her dear heart, spent an enormous amount of time - tearing the original caulking off, putting down new stuff, tearing off the new, and recaulking it again ... I love her!!)

Friday, July 1st arrived and I found myself at the Pittsburgh airport waiting to meet this guy I felt I had known forever. I was nervous but excited. After all, we had such a connection online/on the phone that meeting in person could only be better, right? He came down the escalator and we hugged. There wasn't any "jolt" or specific "spark" but I didn't think anything of it because I felt just as comfortable as I had when we were talking. We spent that evening with my family, eating dinner, playing a board game, and watching a movie.

Saturday, I was both looking forward to and dreading. I looking forward to a Kennywood trip with some of my friends. I was dreading the time that he wanted to spend praying at an abortion mill in downtown Pittsburgh prior to that. That is so far out of my comfort zone. I realize that everyone has to do things that get them out of their comfort zone, but this was a stretch. It went fine, however, and soon that was over and we were on our way to Kennywood. I was very curious to see how he got along with my friends. It seemed that everything was fine. It helped that I had friends from both my "Catholic" group of friends and my "regular" group of friends (this is not a slur on either group... they are both great and represent two different parts of my personality... this is also very important later on). The day progressed and everyone had a lot of fun. Something was nagging me in the back on my mind but since I couldn't figure out what it was, I ignored it. The evening ended with a rip-roaring time at Eat 'n Park with three of my friends before the drive back to Steubenville.

We had decided long before the visit that on Sunday, we would take time just the two of us. He also had this idea that he wanted to make me like hiking (which has always been a "four letter word" in my book). So, on Sunday afternoon, we went out to one of the state parks in PA. And I enjoyed it. After walking a while, we ended up sitting on a huge rock for over an hour... cuddling, holding hands, talking, not talking (no, there was nothing more than that). Just like the hug when we met, it was nice. Nothing earth-shattering, but I was content and comfortable being with him. On the walk back to the car, he asked me if I wanted to continue ("make official") the relationship. Because I was comfortable with him and couldn't imagine not talking to him as I had been doing for months, I said "yes." (Note... some of my friends jokingly called me a "holding hands whore" because we were doing that before we were "officially together" ... LOL ... BTW I don't think it was wrong in the least.)

Monday flew by in a blur and soon we were sitting at the airport waiting for his, delayed, flight. At this point we changed our facebooks to reflect that we were "in a relationship" with each other. Although I wasn't happy when he left, I also didn't feel distraught like I expected to feel.

Over the next couple of weeks, I spent some time in PA with three of my closest friends, started preparing for a recital I was asked to give at the school/store where I took voice lessons in high school, went to MN with my parents and brother, got to spend time with my friend, Jen, who I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years, saw various relatives and family friends, and spent a ton of time thinking. I still couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was that was bothering me, but I knew it was related to the relationship.

Finally, after many hours talking with friends and mulling it over in my mind, I accepted the fact that I needed to end it. The bottom line was: I wasn't ready for a relationship. But it was more than that. I mentioned my two groups of friends above. I can function just fine in both, although, I act differently in those settings. In this case, I felt I was involved with someone who fell even further on the one side as do my "Catholic" friends. That is not inherently wrong! And compromise is always possible as he pointed out when I ended the relationship just shy of three weeks after it began. But, in this case, there were so many things that would have needed to be compromised so much. And because I "float" in the middle between both groups of friends, I would have had to compromise so far to one side I felt I would be losing the other part of who I am. Conversely, he would have had to move so far to the left, even to meet me half-way. So, perhaps, it's not even that I'm not ready for a relationship. Perhaps, it's just that I wasn't ready for *this* relationship. I am not secure enough in who *I* am, me, Rose, by myself, not in comparison to anyone else, to not have changed into someone I really am not just to make this relationship work.

Now, when I say "Perhaps, I just wasn't ready for *this* relationship," I am not implying that I see any possible future with this guy. To be blunt, I don't. He is a great person, but he's not the guy for me. AND... I wouldn't really be the girl for him either.

It would be nice if this story had a "happy ending" even on the level of we stayed friends. But that is simply impossible. When I ended the relationship, he asked if we could be friends. I cautiously agreed, but it soon became apparent that we have very different meanings and expectations of the word "friends." Add in the fact that, while our emotional chemistry (as seen by our online communication and to a lesser extent, in person) was great, there was - at least on my end - no physical chemistry. That's what was missing when we met. There wasn't any "spark" making it "better" than spending time talking online. When he left, I wasn't distraught because going back to talking online wouldn't be much different. Friends have told me, and I agree with them, that when I actually do meet the guy who I am meant to spend the rest of my life with, it will feel like an immense emptiness when he leaves. And, that when I am with that person, I will feel much more of myself. My whole self. Not like half of me would have to be compromised to become the "right person."

I'm not saying any of this to talk badly about this guy. Although things didn't work out between us and I can't see a friendship continuing for both the reasons listed and some that will remain unstated, I wish him well. The fact that my necessary decision has hurt him to the extent that it seems to have, makes me unhappy. But, that does not compare to the peace I feel knowing that I made the right decision. And, knowing that I made the right decision isn't even all of it. I know that I have nothing, NOTHING, to regret about this relationship. There is nothing that I would go back and "unsay" or "undo," nothing I feel guilty for, nothing I would have done differently. I wish it did not have to end with my being completely at peace while he is in pain. But, I can't change the way he has reacted. I only pray that he will be able to move on and find the same peace I have. And that someday, we will both meet the persons who will be everything we couldn't be for each other.

OH, and, Miriam, I know I gave you my socks, but I'd really like them back. They were my favorites!