Selflessness in romantic relationships is a stupid idea. You can’t be the only one making efforts while your partner lives on their island of delusion, thinking everything is perfect when its not. And you’ve mentioned it time and again. Love is complicated. Self-love needs courage.
You see, I loved my boyfriend. He loved me. And for our spectators, our relationship was perfect, or so they told me when I broke the news to them. I had ended my two-year relationship. “That’s gotta be a joke”, somebody remarked because the idea of separation appeared scandalous to them, given my partner had not cheated on me. And as I introspected my friendship with this person, I ruminated whether infidelity was the only acceptable parameter to break up with somebody.
I met my boyfriend — let’s call him D — at my previous company. It was after I had left the firm that our equation blossomed. Texts led to calls, calls led to dates, and dates led to prolonged heart-to-heart at midnight. Before either of us knew, we were in love, or at least that is how we termed that prickly sensation of longing for each other’s company perpetually. It all happened in a duration of seven months. Yes, just seven months. Now that I retrospect, we should have spent more time getting to know ourselves or one another before rushing into commitments. That was rather naive of us.
Backstory: I had been single for two years before I met him. And he’d never had a serious relationship before he met me. I think we were so desperate that we clung to the nearest shoulder without thinking. We fast-forwarded our dating phase and crash-landed into the honeymoon period in no time. I won’t deny that it felt exhilarating at the time. The adrenaline of it. The long walks, weekend getaways, midnight kisses, endless conversations…I was living the chapter from my favourite romance novel. I loved it. It was only after we were in a relationship that we began taking time to know and understand each other. Our likes and dislikes, our insecurities, our stories, our worlds…two very different places.
We were two very different people, and we loved that about us. But as the lavender haze faded, the darker realities became clearer. You see, two years is a good enough time to really know somebody, to realise that it’s not meant to be. As life set in, efforts dissipated.
He couldn’t make it to my birthday because he was genuinely busy. He couldn’t hold my hand in front of his friends because he genuinely feltawkward. He couldn’t ask me about my days because he genuinely forgot about them. He couldn’t text me if I was unwell because he was genuinely preoccupied. He couldn’t go out with me for a movie because he genuinely didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t hang out with my friends because he genuinely thought they didn’t like him (FALSE, btw). He couldn’t stay awake when I shared something, anything, deeply personal because he was genuinely tired.
“I was genuinely sleepy”, he said in defence one morning. He had seen my tears before falling asleep that night. He knew I was sharing something deeply personal when he let the sleep drift him away that night. He didn’t have a shred of regret about leaving me crying that night, and I didn’t accuse him of anything. What got to me was that he never bothered asking. He just offered a one-liner explanation when he spotted my disappointed face and casually moved on with life.
If I were to use one word to describe ‘D’, I’d say he was theoretically very genuine. Too genuine for my own good. Honestly, I don’t think D did not NOT love me. He just did not care enough. Whenever he had to sing about his daily woes, I lent him an ear. But somehow, I remained unheard for the most part.
I remember catching typhoid for a month. It was around the same time that his work had gotten hectic. (Psst. it was always hectic whenever I needed him) I was sick. In pain. It’s not like I was in a state to speak anyway, but he would not check up on me for days. He was just absent. Once in a blue moon, he’d return from his exile and embrace me with his presence and love, all apologetic about his demeanour, until…he disappeared again. Reason? He was genuinely overloaded with work. That month was hard.
Right from the start, we used to split bills on our outings. Out of love, I also used to send him lunch once every month. Let me make it clear that he never asked for it. I did it because I wanted to. Other than that, I used to overspend on him as well. Not to say he wasn’t financially investing in me, but I was going above and beyond. There came a time when I realised I was being financially reckless. I became particular about my expenses. And no, I did not cut off sending my monthly lunch to him, but dramatically reduced avoidable expenses. It did not sit well with him. He knew my situation, but for that time period, he thought my intent, ‘neeyat‘, to be very precise, was not in the right place.
The other time, I told him I felt I was being taken for granted. He dismissed me, saying I was overthinking it. This was a pattern, you see. I was told that every anxiety I had about our relationship was a product of overthinking, whereas his personality did not like to hover over petty things. He gaslit me into believing there was no problem until I normalised feeling lonely in a relationship.
If I felt unheard, it was because I was melodramatic and not because he was always distracted. He used to romanticise our future without acknowledging our present. He told me I was his happily ever after, and I bit myself wondering whatever was wrong with me.
But there came a moment of epiphany when I couldn’t take it. And no, it was not some isolated moment of divine intervention. It was a gradual realisation. That I was being unfair to myself. That I was not respecting my emotions. That I needed to love myself. I tried hearing his side of the story, but it did not make sense.
After a lot of tru and fro, he finally let me go. I was told it was a mistake, and I was sure it wasn’t. He told me he had envisioned babies, and I reminded him I never wanted kids. A lot was said, but a lot remained unsaid. I loved him, he said he loved me too…I just didn’t feel it anymore.
