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I've written before about privacy and how it has evolved in our lifetime. I don't know my neighbors' names. I never even met them. I mean, clearly if I had met them I would have an answer to what was up with all the vomiting that happens next door. But, alas, I've never met nor do I know anything about them. Not one thing. Well, besides all the vomiting. What I do know are the stories of people I've never met before. I knew when Georgina found out she was pregnant with a girl. I knew when David decided to return to life as a manwhore. I knew when Lilu's B peed on the cat. I knew when Lexa was called a glorified secretary. And, I know a lot more...about a lot of other people....people I've never met before. All compliments of our friend the interweb.

Problem is, I also know a lot about people I have met. I know stuff I never wanted to know. And, it was a couple of weeks ago that the book of faces let me down again by allowing me to find out information I never needed to know.


I'm not quite sure why it bothered me so much. But, as soon as I saw it I immediately shut the laptop. Apparently shutting the laptop would make it go away. I looked around as if to find out if anyone else saw what I saw. Why book of faces? Why? Why did you allow this to pop up on my news feed?

I had never been in a relationship like the one I was in with him. I hated and loved him with more intensity then anyone I had ever met before. I believe the feeling was mutual. We were too young and too intense. We fought. We saw each other way too often. We probably made each other miserable. And, we couldn't get enough of each other. I remember one night we were in a bar and his friend turned to me and said, "He really does love you. I don't know what he would do without you. He seriously loves you more then you know." The funny thing was that we were celebrating my new job. My new job in another city. The new job I looked for, in another city, to get away from him. He was toxic for me.

It was the intensity that I loved though. It was the intensity that caused this seemingly short lived romance to live way beyond its shelf life.

He use to say we were going to be together forever. He would talk about our children and the kind of mother I would be to them. He told me he loved me and never wanted to be without me. He said he was more in love with me each morning when he woke up next to me...on account of my messy hair and snuggly nature. He drank more then any person I knew. He lied when I confronted him about cheating on me. He never introduced me to his mother. He turned away from me when I cried. And, he left when he promised he would be in the waiting room when I got out.

He cemented my fears that people would turn away from me. He made my suspicions reality. He made me feel more unlovable than I thought possible.

It was years ago. And, I wasn't perfect. I didn't deserve to be treated as I was, but I didn't treat myself well either. I kept returning. I went back for more. I forgave and pretended to forget. I looked the other way and only discussed my concerns for him in anger. He was young. He was hurting his body in ways I didn't even allow myself to acknowledge. His choices were clouded by abuse that he put his body through. It wasn't a free pass. He should not receive a pardon for it, but I should have rested my case and given in. I should have stopped looking for love from someone who couldn't even treat themselves well.

The announcement of his marriage made me sad. Sad that I allowed myself to be hurt so badly by someone. Sad that he didn't want to treat me better. Sad that I believed the untruths I told myself in response to his behavior. Sad that I couldn't "win" by appearing to come out on top.

The sadness faded though. I reminded myself we were young. He hurt me, but I don't believe it was intentional. We didn't know how to treat each other. And, I probably hurt him as well. He wasn't a terrible person. He was funny. He was loyal. And, he could be incredibly loving when he wanted to be. It wasn't me. We just didn't work. And, we were kids. We needed to grow up. Move away. Make more mistakes. And learn to love ourselves.

So, I sent him a message. I told him that he looked really happy and I congratulated him. He didn't respond and I think I am okay with that. In the past I would have been crushed by his lack of response. I had and still have this strong desire to be on good terms with him. He once occupied space in my heart and a piece of him will always remain a tenant. But, relationships don't get their loose ends tied up nicely. The frayed ends linger until you can accept them and understand why the end is much harder to define then the beginning. An email would not have given me closure because what I realized was that I found it long ago. He will always hold a place in my life story, but I am chapters beyond what we were. I got closure long ago. I was just reminded that it comes in your heart and not an email or a moment in time.

The other plus about having closure is that today I can totally laugh when I retell the story about how he peed in my bed. And how I told the dry cleaner that the dog peed on my down comforter because I didn't quite know how to say, "my boyfriend peed on this" and look her in the eye. Let's hope he has learned to keep his drinking bladder under control or that he and his new wife registered for a plastic mattress protector. Bitchy much? Yes, yes I am.