The one that got away

[Transplant]

Dear LS,

It's been two months now since my unexpected breakup. I left my small town to move to England to study at Oxford and then Scotland for graduate school at St. Andrews. Before I left, mind you this was 8 years ago, I met a girl that would eventually change the landscape of my life.

 

We wrote letters the whole time I was away, though she always had a boyfriend and, eventually a kid with a man from her home town. When I moved back to the states she asked me what was the longest I've ever cared for someone and if there was 'the one that got away' in my life- I was shy at first and told her that they all got away. She told me for her, it was 8 years and later said, 'it was you; you were the one that got away; you were the one that I wished would have stayed and you were the one that I've loved longer than I can remember.'

 

Despite geographics and my transient life, we began a relationship and grew to believe that every void we've ever felt was because the absence of one another. The 'it was you's' and 'you were the reasons' and variations of such sentiments littered our communiques. We became best friends and lovers quickly. We began planning our wedding in Scotland and engagement photographs. She remained in her small town and I took work in DC. I flew back on a few occasions and our chemistry seemed to be a mix of trashy romance novels and Shakespearean legacy. The last I spoke with her was the morning she broke up with me. She kissed me goodbye and told me she couldn't wait to see me at lunch. She then texted me on her lunch break to get out of her life, that I wasn't good for her and that she never loved me. I had no car as mine was 3000 miles away so I called my father who recently was hospitalized for a heart attack. He drove to get me and I flew back to DC without answers. She carried on with the 'I miss you(s)' and 'I wish I could be there waiting for you after work(s)'. Eventually I left and moved back because I thought it was distance. When I moved back to the small town she was amazed that I loved her that much that I would change my life for her. She then said she thought being with me would mess up her life. She remains in that quiet town with all my intimacies and merits, including my university boxing clothes and my stories that I've never told anyone and soundings that were to be published. I went to collect it all back and said we didn't need to see each other. I told her to leave it outside of her place and I'd pick it up. She nearly called the cops because I scared her, even though I told her I was coming. I've requested it all back for two months now; I said I'd even pay the postage but I haven't seen any of it.

 

I've quietly driven myself mad about it all and haven't had a good night's sleep in a couple of months. It all continues to haunt me and I’ve allowed the ‘idiot guy gear’ to kick in on several occasions, saying, ‘You’ll never find someone like me again’ as well as regurgitations of her promises and words to me. I’m not sure what keeps me around, maybe it’s the story aspect of it all, the way that some relationships quietly bend the bounds of reality and fantasy or maybe it’s because I feel I’ll never meet anyone as ‘perfect’ as her. I guess I simply don’t know. The rational side of me says to leave her but the romantic side of me says stay. I’ve never been taught how to abandon someone I truly love and maybe it’s because she’s the only woman I’ve ever truly loved but regardless of which, I can’t seem to let go.

 

I feel bad because I know I shouldn’t be tormented or sad. I’ve lived a life of inescapable grandeur. I’ve been blessed and privileged. I can do anything I want in life but for some reason I was never able to go through any of the doors and even though she’s gone I still can’t. I have no excuse to not pursue a life of wealth and luxury but secretly, none of it has ever really mattered to me because I’ve always put ‘her’ before it all and finally, it feels, this ‘her’ had a face and it was when I had ‘her’, I finally had something to lose.

 

Some days are spent wishing I never met her, while other days feels like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, despite the pain I feel now. Most days I wish I could just shake some sense into her, telling her, ‘Don’t let me be the one that got away again; I’m here,’ and some days I fear that if she ever does come back, all I’ll be able to say is ‘I gave you everything I had,’ and ‘I never left.’

 

Keep in mind, dear readers, there are two sides to every story and I’m sure she would tell it all differently, and mine is probably told through the lens of stringent emotion and rivering sadness. Any advice you all could provide would be greatly appreciated. With kindest regards, I remain

 

Very truly yours,

The Transplant