Kenny is gone. He left five weeks ago. Maybe he’s in California. Maybe he’s in Oregon. I don’t know. I doubt I will ever know. I don’t think I will hear from him again. But who knows; after all, two years ago I heard from him after 28 years.
All was well, until it wasn’t.
It was wonderful, then it wasn’t.
Perhaps some romances are only meant to be temporary.
Perhaps some people are better alone than in a couple.
I am sad that he left, but there’s also relief. I don’t have to feel bad when he withdraws into himself. And I don’t have to try to draw him out. He will take care of himself, and I will take care of myself.
But it is so sad. It was such a perfect romance. We had been friends, then we were lovers. I felt embraced by his love. But then it started feeling confining. But I couldn’t talk about that with him. He made so many sacrifices to be with me—shouldn’t I have been able to do more for him? I tried, yet once again I found myself trying to fulfill my partner’s needs rather than my own.
I have spent the last few weeks writing and thinking about Kenny and our relationship. I have realized that I need space and time to myself, and if I ever get in another relationship, we should each stay in our own apartments.
It’s funny, he said he was purely guided by his desire to make me happy, but that ended up not being as wonderful as it sounds. What if his efforts didn’t make me happy? What if I didn’t want to receive his efforts when he wanted to give them? It was sweet and it was bitter.
May he find joy in himself and in his life.