As the cosmic would have it, I bet and lost. The loss threw me into a black hole and all the strength I boast I had came back and slap me into a vegetable state. It’s pathetic. It called me back to a place where I had to review my past again and found new realizations. I thought I had defeated the past, apparently not. But that’s for another time.
So the odds stacked up and I lost. I can’t command the outcome nor would I stand between what I want and the desires of another. There’s no tug of war, I probably did my best to push him to his way. And with it, drained my own force.
The question that remains is can we be friends? More accurately, do we want to be friends. Relationships are hard. For a separation that has no anger, no bitterness, no regrets, at least on my end, there’s no burning of bridges, nothing we had said that we can’t take back, it is probably the most awkward way to end. Back it up a little, it’s a separation not of my wanting. Dumped, more like it.
Solution number 1 (most recommended): Go out and have fun, date other people, let the other party think you don’t care and make him jealous.
Solution number 2 (most commonly used): Be angry, find a fault, focus on all the bad points and think how unworthy that person is of you.
Solution number 3 (most shameless): Begged for his return, cajole, offer things you can’t give, negotiate, cry.
Solution number 4 (most probable to backfire): Offer friendship, say the most quoted line: let’s just be friends.
I chose none of the above. I might have inevitably exercised 3 and stopped halfway. There was nothing in any of the solutions offered by friends that I can honestly engage and stay true to how I feel. The truth is that while I cannot hope for a different outcome or to change the outcome (whatever you have heard, it is a cardinal rule that you should never ever attempt or harbour hopes of changing a man, he will only change when he wants to, most often, without you), I am also not ready to say goodbye. “Let’s just be friends” would be a practical solution except it is a lie.
Being a friend meant you would have to wave all rights to be jealous and invite a whole different set of behaviour. You’ll have to support his next romantic endeavours and may even be called upon for advise. You’ll have struggle with keeping enough closeness but too close to ignite more emotions. You’ll automatically compare him to every other guy you meet and find you will almost always prefer what you cannot get. Your eyes will be transformed into shapes that resemble those of a dog longing for a pat. And if you are honest, you can never actually say those words. “Let’s just be friends” is a poor man’s answer to hosting a feast. Eat the leftovers while imagining the original grandeur.
So what did I do? I did the only thing I could, I wish him well, told him everything I appreciate of him that I would not have the chance to say again. Let him know he is loved and set him off with everything I can give and then grief. I am no longer the 45kg burden in his 5 kg rule. Hopefully, my well wishes are like weightless amulets that can called to release joyful memories when needed.
For this question, I have an answer. No, I am not ready to be a friend but I will offer all the perks of being my friend as a reserve for that emergency call if needed. Because I still care but can’t do it on a daily basis anymore. Not a very elegant solution, then again, honesty is never very graceful.