Still okay. I’m spending a lot of time assembling IKEA stuff and otherwise furnishing the new apartment. It’s fun. :)
I’ve had a couple of bad nights, though. Sometimes I miss the good times I had with her (and there were many). Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I even feel sorry for her. It’s complicated. I’ve never seriously doubted my decision to leave, though. I’ve considered and reconsidered it in a dozen different ways, and I always reach the same conclusion.
Whenever I think about the idea of getting back together, it seems like a trainwreck waiting to happen. I don’t doubt that she sincerely meant all her promises to me, but I can’t imagine that those good intentions would survive the healing process. She couldn’t handle it before, and even if it were true that she “knows what she wants” now, she would *never* be able to handle it now. I can’t bring myself to hate her, but we’re so, so obviously done.
When I think about all that she said to me after the breakup, I end up having imaginary conversations with her, and I end up becoming bitter and impatient with her, even if I don’t start that way. She says that she regrets it terribly, and I think “isn’t that what you said the first time around?” She promises that she can handle my anger this time, and I think “you couldn’t handle it before, and that was when I was holding back; you never even saw the half of it.” She tells me that she was just trying to figure out what she wanted, and I think “go fuck yourself.”
When is reconciliation the right call? I’ve thought a lot about the proper “realistic” perspective. Most books and other sources will argue that good people will sometimes do terrible things, and that it’s possible to heal from it. I think that’s basically true. My ex-girlfriend quoted Not Just Friends to argue that I shouldn’t have made a decision until at least 3 months had passed from the first Dday, and thus I should give her another chance. It seems possible that we were in false reconciliation, and that maybe it really was possible to save the relationship if we reconciled for real. Maybe, the thought goes, maybe that’s the mature and realistic perspective. Maybe leaving her was an impulsive, short-sighted decision that will make me less happy in the long run. But I felt a little better when I turned this argument around. If she can say “shit happens” and use “realism” as an excuse for her bad choices, then I can say the same about leaving her. That, too, is a “realistic” chain of events. Sometimes you cheat on your partner and they dump you, even if you do everything right. Sometimes you don’t get a second (or third) chance. She made her choices, and I made mine. We can never know what might have happened otherwise. *That’s* real life.
I’ve stopped seeing the new therapist (neither of us thought it was all that productive), but in the sessions we did have, we spent a lot of time discussing the nature of the relationship before the affair took place. It’s tempting to cast it all as a mistake, but it honestly doesn’t seem bad. Before the affair, we had problems, but they were relatively commonplace and fixable. We treated each other well and made each other happy. So I ask myself, does that mean I should have kept trying to make it work? And the answer is: no. Even if it’s possible to repair this damage, the affair revealed something new about her. I never thought that the affair was possible until it happened. Up to that point, it was understandable why I loved her and why I decided to propose to her. And after that point, it’s just as easy to understand why I broke up with her. I hate that I spent 7 years with her before it all came crashing down, but I can forgive myself for the steps I took along the way.
I made some bad judgements and choices, and they eventually exposed me to immense pain. I could have acted more wisely. But the traits that led me to this end: loving deeply, staying loyal, always giving the benefit of the doubt, seeing the best in people... I *love* those parts of myself. For the right person, those will be a great gift. I don’t want this experience to change me too much, to make me hard or cynical or untrusting. I just want to find someone worthy of my kindness, my vulnerability, and my love.