17

Dear God,

So after me sorting myself out, and realising that I was in love with Perlilly, and going down to Oxford to see her, and the two of us deciding properly to be boyfriend and girlfriend, and making a public show of it, and sending each other poems saying how much we liked each other, and making a date to have some hot lovin’ this Monday night just gone – after all that, just a few hours later, when I turn up there happy and excited and free from everything that had gone before, Perlilly sits me down and out of the blue says, “I don’t think this is going to work.”

I listen. She says stuff about her being too young, about me being a proper grown-up, about our differences – namely, that I believe in You, and reincarnation, and she doesn’t, and doesn’t like to talk about it (so why do we?) – about me wanting “a barefoot wedding” (!!?) and “taking the kids out of school to go to India” (I did say and think that once; realised there was no need the next day) and I sit there and feel dreadful and don’t know what to say, but accept it because, what am I going to do? Persuade her? And, anyway, inside a part of me feels that maybe she’s doing the same thing I did, getting scared when the reality of what we have gets reel, and fulfilling the final cycle in this whole ‘role reversal thing’ that’s been going on since we last split, since I got to feel all the neediness and insecurity and longing and wanting that she’d had to feel when I went to India and got all weird. It was like my karma coming back to me; I thought I’d better suck it up.

We talked and after a bit it was like, well, shall we go upstairs? Knowing full well what was going to happen – and it did. And it was explosive, and incredible, and loving and great as ever – and it didn’t feel at all like “the farewell fuck”, at least not to me. We fell asleep in each other’s arms and spend the whole night like that – apart from another 4 am lovemaking (equally amazing) and then in the morning the feelings came back up, and I cried my fucking eyes out, and felt so helpless and crazy with it, that something so delicious and beautiful was dying, and I just couldn’t see why. We get on so well – we’ve got so many good things in common – and we have such a laugh, and share such love, and despite our minor differences, it really was – and I want to say is – so good. She looked so beautiful; she always did. Did she know how much I adored her? I hope so. She cried, and she was so upset too, and we talked, and ate breakfast, and smiles and laughter returned, and at the door we hugged and kissed for a long time and that didn’t feel like farewell either. Maybe I’m in denial; it just hasn’t sunk in. It feels nothing like the end of a relationship should do – because it came so out of the blue, with nothing to precipitate it, and because nothing was wrong – I mean, just a few hours beforehand she was sending me sweet texts, and looking forward to seeing me – so where the hell did this come from? I just can’t believe she’s done it, and wants this, and is going to stick to it.

The last few days have been pretty unbearable, to be honest; I’ve only got through it with the kind words of my lovely female housemates, and the distraction of sport and work, and some naps. I feel emotionally on the edge a lot of the time, and my every waking moment is punctuated with the thought of her. The question “why?” has loomed large in my mind; I still don’t know. I know she had a problem with some of my beliefs – why, oh why, did I have to put them out there? – and it’s such a crying fucking shame because she was helping me so much in this ongoing process of mine in shedding so much of that spiritual mumbo-jumbo I’d got stuck in my head from years ago, I liked that about her. And just as I thought I’d got it cracked: this. Barefoot wedding? Kids to India? Just passing thoughts, fleeting images of a bygone day that meant nothing to me – but she did. I’d had my problems with her non-spirituality in the past, and it was what no doubt lead to our breakup last month, but I’d gotten over them, realised I was being stupid, and realised that I really loved her, and liked her, and that she was a genuinely good person – infinitely more important than being ‘spiritual’ – and I was ready to leave that all behind. Obviously, I’m not going to deny the existence of You, or the benefits of yoga and meditation – nor can I say that I don’t believe in life after death, or the existence of the soul, of something in a human that is more than body or brain – but, in reality, what do these things matter? Does it alter how I live my life? Does it make me a better person to be around? Those are the things that count. Beliefs mean nothing; but is a person good? Do they have joy? Are they honest, and loving, and dependable? Those are the things that matter. And those are things she had. Wisdom? Intelligence? Emotional awareness? Tick, tick and tick. Far more important than any kind of belief or professed philosophy. I just wish I’d kept my big mouth shut - he who knows does not speak, etc (hence, therefore, I don’t know) and let whatever I have inside shine forth in my actions and words and love. I’ve been with girls who claimed spirituality; they weren’t half as nice as her; didn’t have half the qualities she had. I guess what I’m saying is the things she saw as a problem were things that didn’t mean anything to me, just ideas. But why did she see them as a problem? That’s the interesting question.

Number one: let’s not discount her going through the same things I went through – the fears, the questioning, the wanting to get out when the reality of this commitment became bigger – and the parallel aspect of me having to pay for my karma in doubting her, and in pushing her away, and in thinking that I was beyond the needing and the wanting and the longing. Also, when we were apart was when I truly realised that I wanted her and loved her, and came to really believe that we could make a go of things – “don’t it always seem to go/that you don’t know what you got till it’s gone” – and maybe the same things will happen for her. On my part, it really cemented things for me: my feelings, my commitment, my willingness to be open and give it a real try – and, consequently, my unwillingness to let something so good slip from my grasp, and my drive to not keep things inside any more, and to share what I had. Number two: it would seem, really, that these things are a problem for her <i>precisely because</i> she is thinking of us in more serious terms, and thinking about what kind of father I’d make, and recoiling at the thought of a doo-lally dad who wants to run around shoeless in India and tells the kids that the world is just an illusion so best not to work but you should live in a shed and meditate – and, not surprisingly, she doesn’t want that. But then why didn’t we talk about it? (And the idea of kids and stuff is really just an idea anyway; it’s obviously a long way down the line before something like that need even be discussed in any kind of half-serious measure). I just keep coming back to this idea that she got scared – much in the same way that I did – but, the question is, I came back; would she? Love drives my life, and I know how important it is to follow its path; I know how precious and fragile these meetings are, and how much they are worth fighting for. Do others, though? Or do they just let it slide? Do they think, they’ll be more round the corner, someone better – or someone not quite as good but, what the hell? When I feel love I want to grab it with both hands and never let go. That’s the stage I’d come to with her – I would have given so much (and she knows it) – but what if she does love me (I’m pretty sure she does) but doesn’t feel the same way? Oh, if only we had talked! Because, to misquote Homer and Marge Simpson, “our differences are our only skin deep – but our sames go deep down”.

God, I really hope she’s just scared, and will come back to me, with a love stronger and firmer than before. I don’t know what’s made her do this, really – but I’m sure we can work it out. We really are so good for each other, I believe that – and I know she does too; she said it often enough, a few months back, before I messed it all by getting really weird after that first real, “I love you.” “I love you so much,” she used to say to me – but I haven’t heard those words in a long time, even though I’ve said it a hundred times back to her since I stopped being such an ass. What I’d give for it now! Or am I being the fool? Is she moving on? Is she true in her resolve to put an end to what we have, despite this obvious love and goodness, despite our so recent sentiments to each other, our lovemaking and tears and sadness no we’re apart? People are strong and people do silly things sometimes – I know what I’d do – but then I’ve done silly things in the past too. I do believe it’s a mistake – or it would be if it remained this way; not if it had the same effect on her as it had on me when I did it – and I guess that’s why I feel so helpless, because I really feel that it just shouldn’t be, and I’m having a hard time dealing with it. God, I love her so much! I mean, I’ve loved before but this feels so much different; I mean, I adore her, and respect her, and trust her with totality; she’s such a really good person – far better than I – and I could really have seen things going well for us. There’s the tragedy, that I’ve come to that place, and probably felt how she’d always wanted me to feel, and suddenly it’s made her want to end it. Was it too much for her to handle, at her young age? Did she worry that I wanted to get her knocked up, because I’d said I wanted children? Did she think, oh there goes my youth, my sleeping around years, my single-life, knowing that if we stuck it out we’d probably be so good together there’d be no reason to ever end it? Did she feel the weight of responsibility that comes with true love? Or is this all just wishful thinking on my part, a way to deal with my pain, a beacon of hope that she’ll come back to me and love me as I love her? Oh God, I’m so fucking sad right now I can barely stand anything! Won’t you save me from this misery!? Or – no – I mean: why should I be saved? Why should I not feel this, to know what it feels like, to experience and suffer? I hate it, I know – but how will I ever understand otherwise? And don’t other suffer far more than I? Didn’t Perlilly, during my stupid mad weeks when I lost myself and failed to give her the love and respect that she deserves? I mean, what right have I to think that I should get everything my own way, that I shouldn’t suffer too? None, really. But – God, I want her back! What happiness I felt during those brief days when we were boyfriend and girlfriend – “a couple”, goddamnit; her words! – and all the weights of the doubts I’d had before were gone and nothing remained but love. I feel like I’ve done so well to overcome all that – worked hard in my mind; got over my fear of commitment; looked at getting a decent job that could see me supporting another properly – and…and, well where has it got me? Alone and miserable with my love but a ten minute walk from here – four, if I run! – and her out partying with her friends and trying to push me out of her heart and mind, perhaps. Or figuring things out and realising that she does want me after all; one of the two. But what to do in the meantime? That’s the hard bit; I’m rubbish at that. That’s what TV is for, I guess – and that’s what I’ve done to others in the past, with my flip-flopping and noncommittal; it’s my own fault.

Thank You God for bringing me to this raw and emotional place, and for giving me this experience; thank You God for bringing me Perlilly, and for the effect she has had in me, in getting me more and more normal, and sorting me out, and making me look at my commitment issues, and helping me get more serious and less Peter Pan about life; thank You God for the love I have felt, from her and from within myself, and for showing me that I was still capable, and for the happy times we shared; thank You God for the gift of laughter, or happy memories – oh, so many memories! – and of good new friends and housemates, and the roof over my head, and the hope of things to come in the future. I feel surprisingly good about myself – I feel more handsome, fitter, more beautiful, a better person – than ever before. I think you’re supposed to feel the opposite way – but I don’t. I feel in my prime; I feel ready. For what, I don’t know – but I do know that I feel ready, and good, and for that I’ve got You to thank. Now to hell with all this pseudo-spirituality nonsense and let’s get back to just being joyful and loving and fun – which is what it should all be about anyway. Who cares what we believe, darling, the fact is we’re good together, and we make beautiful love, and I think you’re sexy as hell, and I adore every little part of you, and all these petty differences of ours, we can work ‘em out, I believe that. Are you going to find a man as good as me? Well good luck to you if you do – but I doubt it. And am I going to find a girl as good as you – well, if you don’t want me back then I guess I will, life ain’t that cruel – but I strongly doubt that too. You’re everything I could want in a woman, and nothing I don’t, I’ve realised that now. My doubts have gone; won’t yours too? You know we could be so good together – in a very real and major way – and I guess that’s why you’ve got scared; yes, I believe that’s what it is; question is, what are you going to do with it, and where are we going to go? Question is…over to you.

Goodnight, God – and thanks for listening! You’re the best.

Love,

Rory