Nevermore

My post from last week re. my old boyfriend elicited, among many things, a phone call from a close male friend. I've been friends with A. for many years now but we'd always had this weird chemistry between the two of us. So yes, inevitably we did become lovers for a short period of time (I know, I know ... I seem to have an abundance of friends-turned-lovers-turned-friends-again) before deciding for many reasons to confine our relationship to friendship (or at least, the pretense of one during the early years while we let the embers die).

The reason that prompted A. to pick up the phone and call was my disclaimer that the only person other than my husband with whom I'd been head over heels in love was my old boyfriend. He was somewhat hurt by this comment. Specifically, was I denying that there had been anything between the two of us? Tough question and the answer was equally difficult.

We had somewhat of an interesting conversation during which we more or less conducted an archaelogical dig and unearthed some of our memories. Mostly we reminsced about the more troubled times of our friendship. A. recalled a moment in which he had turned up after a long period of absence in my life in an attempt to pick up where we had left off. Despite my nearly photographic memory, I had surprisingly buried that incident completely, probably because of my shoddy and immature conduct; mercilessly, A. recounted how he'd felt when I triumphantly threw it up in his face that I was seeing someone else. We also discussed our respective perspectives regarding his unexpected appearance months later at a housewarming party. He made his exit after twenty uncomfortably polite minutes during which neither one of us voiced what we were truly feeling or thinking.

It was funny dissecting what had been going through each of our minds at the time of both incidents, because we certainly didn't act on our instincts. Instead, we both held back and then reacted to the other person's actions (or inactions) which fed further into our insecurities and feelings of resentment. Both of us were too proud and too immature to apologise to the other for our appalling behaviour and we were definitely not even in the ballpark at that time at attempting to repair our friendship.

At the end of our conversation, I felt closer to A. but also inexplicably sad. We both expressed some regret for how we had treated the other in the past, and of course, we wondered aloud how things might have ended up had we instead been smarter and kinder. The ironic thing is that these regrets exist despite the fact that both of us are happy in our current situations. I wouldn't give up my relationship with my husband or with my kids for the world. A. is also in a long-term stable relationship, very established in his life and deliriously happy with it as well. It was hard for us come to terms with the fact that regret for what might have been didn't negate the happiness and satisfaction with what we have now.

I have this firm belief that we are the sum total of our experiences. Therefore, if I hadn't had a relationship with A., would I be who and where I am now? Would I have been able to appreciate all that I have with my husband and my family? Certainly, I am sorry that I didn't take the opportunity years ago to tell A. all that I was feeling; in failing to take some chances and be honest, we doomed our relationship to what was essentially a six month one-night stand. But my regret stems less from the failure of our relationship, and more from the fact that I wasn't being true to myself, that I held back so much to the point where I felt like I was giving nothing. I'm not sorry that things didn't work out on a different level with A. though. I'm happy and grateful that despite all that has come to pass, we are now able to enjoy a friendship. I think my recent sadness grew out of a belated mourning. Although our romantic relationship died years ago, neither one of us really grieved about it at that time because we were both too pigheaded and stupid to let on to the other that it might have meant something.

Once a few years ago, a very bright and talented man with whom I am acquainted showed me a poem he had written. The subject matter dealt with a missed opportunity, a longed-for relationship that never took place. The object of the man's desire is not named directly, but is instead cleverly referred to as "Should Have Been" or "Never Was". I wish I could post the poem here, but unfortunately, I lost my copy of it when my computer crashed sometime ago. It would serve as a good eulogy for my relationship with A.