I kept trying to make him realise that the woman in front of him was worth it. That what we had was rare and beautiful. For me, it was that one big love that only comes around once. That one big love that you should never let go of. I knew that. He didn’t. This is the agony of one-sided love.
I grew up believing in love
No, not the “fairytale concept” of love where a prince would come on a horse and we’d ride off into the sunset together. I knew that was never happening (partly because I don’t live in England and partly because I’m a little scared of horses). But the concept where I’d meet someone who was my world. I believed that this love I’d one day find would be enough. And I found that love in P.
Our souls connected immediately
We both craved intense emotional intimacy. He was the kind of guy who could warm the chills of a winter night just by pulling you close and holding you. The kind of guy who left chocolate in your post-box, and goosebumps down your spine. The kind of guy who video called you at 3am to check in because he knew you had insomnia and you couldn’t sleep.
He shared the same passions. He loved animals, and the fact that he worked as a vet and could fix even the most broken souls with his beautiful hands made me love him even more. We would have lunch together and drink lattes every day. He knew exactly how I liked my ice tea.
He was funny. Charismatic. Clever. Intense. Absolutely beautiful to look at. He smelt like the ocean. There was never an awkward or uncomfortable moment between us. It flowed. It was easy. He was everything I had been looking for my entire life. That one big love that only comes around once. That one big love that you should never let go of. I knew that. He didn’t.
From the start he said he didn’t want a relationship with me
At first I was happy with just being friends. But as time progressed, so too, did my feelings. It came to a point, a year after we first met, where I realised that I needed more from him. I needed him to want me. I told him this. I told him many, many times. The late-night calls and coffee catch ups went from platonic to a whirlwind romance. Late night drives to his house where we’d lie in his bed and explore every part of each other and feel completely at home doing so. Moments where we would just look at each other without saying a single word and know that what we had was rare and beautiful. But, as complex love would have it, the closer I got to this beautiful man, the more he started to pull away.
Every relationship he’d ever had was fatally flawed
At 32, he had never been married. No kids. No commitments. No baggage. At 37 I was divorced with two young daughters. My life dynamics scared him. Or so he kept telling me. The age difference, the kids, the life stages. Our cultures were different. Our circumstances different. Still, I refused to give up on this “once in a lifetime love” that I had found in him.
I stuck around and kept fighting for him. After all, allegiance and promise teach us that we are not to walk away from people that we love. I kept trying to make him realise that the woman in front of him loved him more than any other women in the world could ever love him. That the woman in front of him was worth it. I kept thinking that if I gave more that he’d understand I was doing everything to make him happy, and in return he would want to make me happy too. I stayed hoping some miracle of all miracles would happen, because I loved him – and shouldn’t love be enough? I tried over and over again to persuade him that our love was special. It was unique. It was scarce. It was sacred.
One morning I woke up
After a very restless night trying to piece the puzzle of P and me together, and not being able to fit us, no matter how hard I tried, I realised that the concept I had of love was all wrong.
Truth is, you can fall in love with a wide variety of people throughout the course of your life, and some of those people are going to be good for you, and some bad. You can fall in love in healthy ways and unhealthy ways. Love is not unique. Love is not special. Love is not scarce. Love is not sacred. It happens to almost everyone at some point in their life. And while love is attractive and essential … sometimes love is just not enough to make it work.
I was wasting precious moments of my life
I knew P couldn’t meet my needs. He didn’t want to meet them. I was wasting precious moments of my life on a man who didn’t want me. I knew that a one-sided love couldn’t possibly benefit both of us and help both to grow, to develop ourselves, and to realise our full potential as people. All a one-sided love does to your soul is strangle it. I needed to walk away. Cut my loses. Grieve. Choose my own happiness. And he needed to let me.
That afternoon P and I met for lunch. I told him that I’d move mountains for him. I told him that I’d give up everything to be with him. I told him how deeply and truly I loved him. How I adored every part of him. How amazing he was. How I would never ever love anyone the same way again. And then … I let go. I ended what I believed was the greatest love of my life. I walked away. And he let me.
The truth about one-sided love
Unrequited love is toxic. Unbalanced love is not healthy. This is perhaps something that I have always known but never experienced first-hand. I have never had someone I love, not love me back. Sometimes you can recover from it. Sometimes you can’t. The biggest life lesson P taught me was that not everyone who you love will want to travel the journey with you. That sometimes, your biggest love will be the one who doesn’t want you. That all you’re doing by trying to make someone love you is damaging your heart – fanning a flame that doesn’t want to burn. Picking at a scab that will never heal as long as you keep touching it.
Stop the cycle. Let your heart heal so you can find someone who actually does want you. Who loves you as much as you love them. Because that, my dear, is the love that will be enough.
Further reading …
“Ex Marks The Spot”
In dealing with a breakup, Caroline Hurry writes, “I tried to warm my hands over an old flame and got burnt. For years the smouldering embers of nostalgia kept me hot. And hungry. Like an addict, I craved the euphoria that being with him in the beginning had produced. ‘He hurt me, only he can make me better,’ went my skewed rationale.
For months, nay years, I never let the facts – the younger, prettier wife, for example – disrupt my fantasies of somehow recapturing those heady, halcyon days when he worshipped me. But did he really? Or had that just been me seeing what I wanted to see?
The constant ache of nostalgia and loss was something I kept to myself, until one day my soul cried: ‘Enough!’ And it was.”
Read more in “Ex Marks The Spot”
