
She said, “Goodbye, Meizar.” Which was the right thing to say and do. She’s married. I’m single. And I lost her not one, but two times in my life now.
We had some great romantic, physical, mental and spiritual moments. Magical ones. I think we’re just… illegally in love.
That’s right, I’m a crime, technically, according to this country’s Law for dating a married woman.
We fall for each other not because we’re “perfect”. Or, maybe, we are, because “perfect” is subjective. I’m just enough for her, and she’s just enough for me.
I’m not sorry for being “a crime” here. Not a bit. I don’t mind risking my life for her anyway. But, she did the right thing. She bid a farewell to me.
I think the idea of “when you’re married, you can’t fall for someone else” is utterly ridiculous. How’s that working — especially when you’re treated like trash on daily basis — for a human who’s capable of thinking, feeling, and making decisions?
This strong, intelligent, and independent lady eventually said goodbye to me, which is gut-wrenching. But, it’s a necessary pain for both of us to endure.
Her love feels like how my mother’s been loving me all my life. It feels so compassionate, warm, simple, and sincere. It’s been meaningful to me.
I was hugged tenderly by her infinite gentle love.
I love it when she’s adventurous, imaginative, passionate, and caring woman — herself. Something to cherish everyday.
I have no intention to change the already marvelous her. I’m so proud of her for being what she naturally is.
And she loves me the way I am. This damn flawed struggling man. She doesn’t seem to want to change me as a person. And that’s beautiful.
But she’s (still) someone else’s wife. That’s the reality. Agonizing.
No matter how strong our feelings for each other, how keen I am to treat her properly, to touch her skins, to hug her when she feels alone and anxious, to see her enjoying extreme sports, to read our favorite books together — side by side on the bed before sleeping…
…everything that we exclusively do will always be viewed as “wrong”.
The rational solution to my situation is for me to leave her alone, so she can get it together and solve whatever problem she’s facing right now.
And if one day she’s single again, we can do whatever we want.
Letting go is so fucking painful
Little did I know that letting her go is physically torturing and absolutely not fun — my heart abnormally beats faster, wanting to vomit all day, like there’s unpleasant thing stuck in my neck, hundreds of butterflies in my stomach.
Letting go is the purest form of love.
I cried for us. For nights. And I’m glad that I did it for someone I care the most.
We’re adults. We take risks and consequences because that’s what adults do.. to grow and go to the next level. And most importantly, to be honest to ourselves.
Growing up is letting go.
I wish her nothing but happiness, I’ll live my life the fullest, and be even more awesome. I’m sure she wants to see me go that direction. I can only hope.
And, My God, if there’s indeed a future for us, that’d be fucking wonderful. Unfortunately, that’s not up to me. I have no control over it. At least for now.
See you again, my lioness. I love you.
