I Left My Heels At His Place So I Could See Him Again

Flickr / Martin Nikolaj Christensen
Flickr / Martin Nikolaj Christensen

I left my high heels at his place. They were in a yellow Forever 21 shopping bag, next to his work uniform. I brought it along with the clothes I would wear the following morning. I planned to go straight to work after staying at his home for the night. I wanted to leave a piece of me behind. This wasn’t the first time I left something of mine at his place. I had left my bra, lingerie and toothbrush before. Sometimes I’d come back for those items, sometimes I don’t, even if that bra was my absolute favorite because it accentuated my breasts.

When I was with my first boyfriend, I had left DVD’s at his place. That way, when we “broke up”, I had a reason to see him again. I wanted those movies back dammit, but truthfully, I could care less about getting back my Tarantino films. I wanted an excuse to see him in case I needed closure.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s the unrequited love, which motivates me to seek closure, or if it’s just the fear of never knowing. I could take rejection well, but not if I had allowed them into my heart and divulged my secrets with them. Not if we exchanged ‘I love you’s’ and stared at each other’s eyes as if we were two lost souls, swimming in a fishbowl…

Not if I was good to them and there was no reason for the “break up.” At least in my mind I was good to them. I tried to play the good girlfriend role, comforting them through their sickness and never caring if I caught their cold. Feeding them hot chicken soup and massaging their backs with vapor Vicks. Pretending to know the pressure points of healing. If I press my finger on the tip of your ears, it should make your headache go away….

But maybe I wasn’t really that good to them. There has to be a reason why they stopped trying, right? And that’s what kills me because I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.

Sometimes I think that I cared too much that when it’s finally over, I couldn’t let go. It’s always difficult to be in the receiving end of a break-up.

So, how important is closure at the end of a relationship? Everyone’s scenario will be different, but for me, it’s very important. Especially if the relationship ended without much warning. Unanswered texts. Ignored phone calls.  But maybe they just gave up. Which isn’t fair for me because I am the one left in the dark.  

Is it because that one time I didn’t say I miss you’ back? Is it because I said I’d be there in an hour, but I don’t show up till two hours later? Is it because I forgave you without much of a fight when I found out that you had lied and cheated on me? Is it because countless times people have said I deserved better, yet I keep coming back to you like a boomerang? Is it because I loved you too much, and that just freaked you out? Is it the way I made love to you, so void and not exciting? Is it because you think there’s another guy in my life? Is it because…just simply…because you’re just not into me anymore?

I couldn’t say that. That’s just too wrong and too awkward to admit, “Sorry, I’m just not into you.”  So we just ignore the other person. Avoid their calls. Make up asinine excuses like “My car blew up so I have to drive down to Tijuana for the parts.” And hopefully they get the hint and will eventually stop trying to reach out.

Because I’ve done it before too. When I’m not into someone, I missed his or her calls and just stopped trying. But those brief flings were meaningless anyway. It wasn’t a fulfilling relationship like I had with them.

And maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to go. No closure is needed. For the sake of my ego, should I just believe they were setting me free, as musician Sting once famously crooned? Oh these songs. Those love songs. They used to mean so much. Now they’re nothing but words played against catchy beats and beautiful instrumental music. Songs that conjure memories of that time, that place, that touch, that first kiss, that first utter of I love you, that first heartache and getting over you song.

Why can’t I, for once, be the one who says goodbye? Why can’t I just leave my emotions at the door and be as emotionless and insensitive as them. Why do I have to be one who’s still needy and still in love. Why do I have to be the one who sleeps alone at night, feeling cold and empty, drenched in tears, craving someone’s bold arms and warm body to spoon me and in the morning say, “I love waking up with you.”

One ex once said, “When I’m going through a financial issue, I just stop trying….” That’s okay. We can stop dining and I’ll cook for you. If you need money, I’ll help you. I don’t need gifts; I don’t need a man with a huge bank account to love me. Material things are nothing to me compared to someone’s endless love.

And so those shoes. I left them there. On purpose. In case I needed a reason to come back. In case I needed closure. They were only $9.99 at Ross, anyway.

But there is only so much I can do.  And I think, oh wow, I think, for once, hallelujah; I’m able to create my own closure. Because if it takes him days, a week, months to call, after what we’ve sort of been through, then I’m out.

Because there’s no way in hell, no way, that I’m going to be one of those women who say, I’ve been hurt before so I’m careful who I let in my heart, because I can still love and I know, someone, somewhere out there can love me. Thanks for leading me on, making me believe that you actually wanted to be with me. No really, thank you. I’ve learned, as painful as it was, to finally know when to let go.

And for the rest of 2015… It’s only going to be lonely if I let it be. And I won’t. I have my family and friends.  

Oh, and those shoes. Please take those damn heels and stick them up your ass. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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