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Tell me I’m wrong

How often do you find a woman asking to be told she is wrong? Not often I bet.

I have been trying for the last two years to track down an old flame. I can honestly say that my intentions are not bad. at least I don’t think they are??
I don’t want to start things up I just want to talk to him.
I have found him, first on Friends Reunited in 2008, then on MySpace in 2009 and now this week on Facebook.
I have emailed him after finding him each time and never received a response, previously he has not been active on the sites so it would appear that he has not read the email. I sent an email yesterday on Facebook and checked his page today to see if he had been online and he had but no response from him to my email. Now I know I need to be a little patient and give him a chance to respond, also I can hear you all saying

“Erm hey stalker, step away from Facebook, leave the bloke alone!”

Well I’m sorry but I can’t. I will obsess over this until he has ignored me for a few months. At which point I will either email him again or give up.
I know one friend in particular would be livid with me and accuse me of only trying to contact this person out of my own selfish need for the adoration that others give me. But no that’s not what this is about. I don’t think??
Don’t tell me to let sleeping dogs lie; I’ll just ignore that advice.
Because I still have dreams about him every now and then. Nothing major, normally we just talk, he shows me what he’s doing with his life. And then I wake up and realise that things are still as I left them with him 9 years ago, with him either being extremely hurt or pretending to be extremely hurt by me. You see I was never sure how sincere he was, my friends scoffed when I told them that he had declared his love to me.
My mother whole heartedly disapproved of the match and in the pit of my stomach, in my head, in my heart I knew that what I was doing was wrong. It was wrong in the crucible, it was wrong in the scarlet letter, it was wrong when my dad did it to my mum. Having a relationship with a married man there’s no justifiable excuse for it really.

My friends didn’t like the fact that I was seeing a married man, half of them had read the same English texts books as me so knew that literally speaking it was wrong and as fiction consistently proved it would all end badly and the other half had fathers who had cheated on their mothers, I instantly became the wanton hussy that had turned their fathers head.
When I first saw him I didn’t know he was married, I very poetically let him know exactly what my intentions towards him were and he told me he was married and there it ended, for a few days. But then we started talking, then we started going to lunch, one evening we went shopping and he stopped me from kissing him. A week later he kissed my cheek, whilst we crossed a bridge and sometime after that we kissed properly.
At this time I was starving myself as I believed that if I lost weight my boyfriend would think I was perfect he had told me that he was sure I wasn’t the one and that when she came along I’d have to bow out. Also that his previous girl friends had been more attractive than me, he wanted me to know that he was clearly lowering his standards by being with me.
I was left thinking very little of myself, I hadn’t thought that much of me before him so I was quite a pitiful wretch, although I still had a good sense of humor. I only lose that when I’m spitting blood angry.
Someone else out there didn’t think I was fat, they didn’t think I was unattractive. I couldn’t understand that someone thought I was perfect, I wasn’t, I had been told so. It was nice to hear though.
19 going on 20 and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, I knew what I wanted and I knew that it was nice having someone be nice to me. On top of that I made him happy, he enjoyed my company, at least he said he did, again I wasn’t sure of his sincerity. He gave me the strength to end the relationship I was in and saved me from a lot of heart ache.
It’s funny how you can go from heady anticipation to dread when seeing a person. I had once been blind punch drunk in love with the one who said I wasn’t the one, and always looked forward to seeing him, until the night I broke up with him, however five minutes later I felt great, I felt free and I was happy.

The affair went on for a bit less than a year starting sometime after Valentines 1999 ending sometime after Christmas 2000, we went to lunch every week day and talked for an hour. The whole office suspected that something was going on; we were both spoken to by our managers. We broke it off about three times the last time with me telling him a lie to make him hate me.
I thought it was best he hate me and I didn’t think I would live to regret my lie. 9 years on and I haven’t counted the dreams, with the hate filled accusations, the silent stare as I yell my apologies to the wind, the fact that he is always just a little out of my reach and I can’t explain, I can’t say sorry no matter how much I want to.
Tell me I’m wrong to want the chance to apologise, to find out what he’s done with his life and tell him what I’ve done with mine.
Tell me I’m wrong to keep trying to contact him.
Tell me I’m wrong.

2 Responses to “Tell me I’m wrong”

  1. Sanity Says:

    You’re wrong.

    Let it go.

    The past is the past.

  2. admin Says:

    Easy for you to say

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