Leo

For the past nine months, it's been Leo.  Leo is this Mexican man with whom I've just recently broken up. We've broken up and gotten back together 3 times already and it's getting old. I don't know why I didn't just leave him when he told me the 1st time we split: "I don't think I'm going to be able to love you," two months into it.  I cried and laughed simultaneously.  "Of course it's not fair that I keep you, you must go, and Thank You for being so honest," I replied earnestly.

The other day I was driving home and thought, "I miss the essence of Leo.  I miss what makes him him.  His essence - which is this formless, shapeless, colorless, odorless thing - is his spirit.  The spirit of Leo."

I think he was tired of being under pressure to love me - that's how crazy I can be, expecting someone to love me when they do not naturally do so on their own.  What kills humans is the need for the "I" or the "me" to be established, addressed, loved; I was selfish to expect something from him that was never, is never going to happen.  So self-destructive.

I thought that if he really does care to remain friends, true friends, then we need to start with the truth.  "Hi Leo, I need to tell you something.  The past nine months have been a lie.  I'm going to be a nun.  I knew from even before I met you it was never going to work out."  Ouch. Ok, maybe not that in depth.  I need some tact.

So why start relationships anyway? one asks.  Good question.  Anyone have an answer?  I don't know, perhaps to ease the moments of loneliness; or to have someone who does care for you; or to feel needed in someone's life; or to have someone for whom you can express love towards... I am reminded of Frank McCourt's pithy advice, "Contention is worse than loneliness."

It hurts to see wedding bands and baby strollers.   "Why can't I have that? Why can't I love someone, too? Why can't I have kids?  Why can't some man love me?"

I think I'm going to start every new male friendship I can by establishing this fact about me; if someone chooses to be my friend and support me through it, cool, but if another chooses to hit the ground running, cooler.  They and I are better for it.

Some part of me still misses him.  Some part of me tried to love him enough for the both of us. Some part of me was never honest with him.  Some part of me was never myself with him.  My friend Lopez noticed this about me, "Why can't you accept the fact that you were in love?" "Lopez!" I screamed, "If I were truly in love, then we'd be together!"  He retorted, "Yes, but there are degrees of it."

He was right.

This truth remains: the opportunity for communion never occurred because I never let it.

And who am I to not be myself with others?  Why should I live a life without integrity?  Why should I live out a false identity?  I don't have much time; I had better begin now...