Okay, okay, I don't really have time to write that much, as today is my anniversary and I told DH that I would take care of the evening.
But I want to clarify a few things about how we met. When I met him I really wasn't looking for Mr. Right anymore. I had pretty much given up and was just trying to enjoy myself. I drank a lot, danced my ass off in gay clubs and spent $20 a week on food. I honestly had doubts as to whether Mr. Right or Mr. Reasonably Okay even existed. I was working and getting gigs and was getting by. I finally figured out that I was quite attractive and I was learning how to deal with men. I had learned to disengage myself from men who exhibited bad behaviour. If I a guy stood me up, (and it happened), I called him and chewed him out. If he didn't know to take me out and be considerate, I stopped returning his calls. If he wouldn't wear a condom, I left.
What impressed me about DH was that I felt that he was never late picking me up, always kept his word, tried very hard to be romantic and considerate. He loved to laugh and tease me; he was outgoing and fun. He would sing to me and surprise me with flowers, he would drive me wherever I needed to go. He brought me ice cream when I had cramps, we talked for hours and he never made a pass at me. That had never happened to me. So despite we saw each other every day, we waited for a few weeks before we consummated our relationship. When I told him I was moving back to Toronto to do a show, he told me that I should do what was best for me, that I shouldn't come back to Vancouver just for him. That if I decided to come back, it would be because I really wanted to. One night, we went out to see Romeo and Juliet (you just know, he could care less but I wanted to see it) and when we returned to my place, he became really quiet and intense. He stood by the window, not really saying anything and I just knew then that I had fallen in love with him and I knew he loved me.
I just knew.
I called the ex and let him know that he should not expect me to come back to him, that I had met someone else and it was serious. The ex was surprised, stunned, hurt and completely taken aback. True, we had messed around a bit and he was an amazing kisser, but I knew that that was not a good enough reason to be with him. He felt that I had never given him a second try to rekindle our old relationship. And that was that. I knew the difference between the two men by the end of the call. One man wanted what was best for me even if it meant that he would never see me again and the other never bothered to ask me if I was happy. He never asked if I truly loved this person and could have a life with him. He never asked me what I WANTED. Not once. At one point, he had actually told me that he never understood why people thought I was so special. He was only concerned that I had hurt him. When we had been together, he had treated me so shabbily, so poorly and I kept going back for more. I actually went into therapy after we broke up. Five years later, I was stronger, more assured and tired of settling for whoever picked me. He was not a bad person, he just wasn't for me. So I didn't feel that bad letting him go on his way. I deserved better.
Now for the hot little summer fling that I had, that was a little harder. I kept him a secret for a while but eventually I had to pass up seeing that tasty little morsel again. Tee hee. Love makes you do crazy things.