The Sparkling Emptiness of Love

I find myself not wanting to write the final autobiographical post that will take me from getting back together with Rebecca to now. It was recent enough that the wounds are still raw. Still, it needs to be done, so I’d best do it.

Shortly after agreeing to come see me, Rebecca posted something on her blog about me. I wasn’t supposed to know about the blog, but it was easy to find it. She said that I wasn’t very attractive and some of her friends would laugh at her, that I slouch and wasn’t very stylish or sociable. She also said some nice things about me, that I was interesting, witty, clever and the sex was great.

And:

I think I’m only considering going back to him because I want to make him happy, I don’t know yet whether it would make me happy. I don’t know if I’m considering it just because I’m lonely right now. Or because we’re very, very compatible sex-wise and I LOVE good sex. Eeek – things shouldn’t be this complicated.

I told her that I’d found this. We talked about it. And knowing this was how she felt, I still went ahead.

So she came to visit for a couple of days. And the sex was great. But more than that, the spark between us was still there.

We talked a lot online after she went back. A month or so later I took some time off work and went to see her. Even with my limited funds, we had a great time. Our relationship had progressed along fairly kinky lines. She would light my cigarettes for me when we were out. And in private there was a lot of rope. I was pushing her slightly, towards things that were a little scary for her. I had brought some needles with me, and play-pierced her breasts. It was beautiful. I loved her for allowing me to do this and I think she loved the fact that I was prepared to challenge her in this way.

I found out some things about her that I had already suspected. The deeply buried secrets she kept. I hope that in letting me hear them, she was able to let go of some of the pain they caused.

While I was in London, a company called about a job I’d applied for there. They wanted to see me for a pre-interview meeting. I agreed immediately. This was a really good job on the fringes of finance and I was surprised they even considered me as a serious candidate. I went to the interview after picking up a suit in a charity shop. Things seemed to be going well.

I came home.

One of Rebecca’s friends had a scam, or something that looked like a scam going with online casinos. He was a gambler and used other people’s accounts to prevent himself getting banned. She had already made significant money out of this and passed my details on to him. That solved the financial crisis for a while.

She came to see me one more time. We fucked and talked and enjoyed each others company immensely. Then she went home and something changed. I think it was me, but it’s difficult to say. I was certainly feeling lower. The job from London had fallen through and I didn’t have the energy or motivation to apply for others. Rebecca and I drifted along, talking online and occasionally arguing. I could tell that something was wrong for a couple of weeks and then she told me. She had slept with someone else. Twice. She was sorry.

We spoke on the phone. She refused to tell me who it was initially, but then the truth came out. It was the same friend who had made her and me the money. Could I forgive her? Yes, I could. But she decided she was a cunt and would only keep hurting me. So she broke up with me.

And in truth, I was not hurt. In all the time we had been together I had never allowed myself to feel close enough to her for the loss to mean anything to me.

I kept working, slowly descending deeper into depression, unable to really feel anything. That’s where we are now.