Devastation

I have some really bad news.

I have discovered, yet again, that being your own personal cheerleader and believing in the power of love and soulmates, that all my wishful thinking was no more than wishful thinking. That all the arguments I have built to persuade myself that Andrew has feelings for me, all those puzzle pieces I have put together was not built on reality, but rather on fantasy and misinterpretation.

Last night, I received an email from Andrew, telling me that "I love you, you are the best friend i have ever had and most likely will ever have... but my love for you has always been and will always be that of a friend."

It gets worse.

He then goes on to say how much he loves his girlfriend, that she is the world to him, and that he is certain that they will end up together.

And then he tells me he hopes I will support him, but now he is afraid that everytime he says "I love you" or asks for advice about his inner relationship conflicts, that I will take it the wrong way.

Then he tells me that our friendship is indestructable, "but what you have for me and what i have for you is different to its very core", and for now, it is better to cease contact until everything sinks in.

So basically, I am a fucking mess of regret, sorrow, anger at him and myself. The way he wrote things, it was as if I would never get over this, and that he could never get over this, and that now our relationship is changed forever. Which is exactly what I least expected from my best friend, who I thought would be more understanding and less scared off if he didn't feel the same way.

So I read the email over and over again, and couldn't sleep. At five in the morning, I wrote him an angry text message, pretty much telling him I deserved a phone call, and he wrote back, coldly, saying he would call me this weekend when he could.

So now, I guess we are fighting.

I have never fought with Andrew. I mean, we have had disagreements, but never to this extent, where our actual friendship is at risk. I never thought this would happen with him. Maybe I was being stupid and naive and too lovestruck to consider all of the consequences. I thought the worst response I would get would be that he was happy now, but he didn't know where things might go with us one day. I just had it so set in my head, in my heart, for the past few years, that somewhere along the line, something was bound to happen between us. And to find out that that isn't even an option for him is just shattering.

It is strange because I don't feel like my heart has been ripped out, like I did last time I went through a break-up. This wasn't a break-up though, it is over before it ever could begin, and the implications of that hasn't really settled in. Once I get past my anger and enormous embarassment, once everything settles in I know I will realise that my whole way of thinking has to change. For years now, I have felt like Andrew is the perfect man, and I always wondered if we would end up married. He was like my plan B, and recently, my hopeful plan A. That feeling of excitement, of not knowing where our friendship could possibly end up, has added so many elements to it. Not that we were trying to court each other, quite the opposite; we were just ourselves, and by not trying to be anything specific, we became the most real, imperfect, honest and raw versions of ourselves when we were together. And knowing that a guy actually loved me when he saw who I was, and knowing that I loved him for what he was, started to make me realise that nothing could ever get any better than our bond. And he felt that way too, until his girlfriend came along.

And so now I am what I have always been to him, unevolved, just friends. But why? What is it that is missing? That is the hardest part, and that will be one of the most difficult things for me to figure out now; if that bond isn't enough to make it in terms of romantic love, what is?

I haven't even begun to try seeking answers to that question yet. But I know that I have a lot of soul-searching to do.

Sometimes I feel like I was just trying to fill a void with Andrew where he doesn't really fit. It just makes sense for us to be in love. And sometimes I feel like I am in love with him, but I know that it isn't really possibly, because for me, love is something that is built together. But the seeds were there. All I needed was a thumbs up from him, and I knew I would probably fall fast.

But maybe in my letter, my tendancy to romanticize and poeticise feelings came out too strong, and I scared him into thinking I was head over heels, which I sort of am, but sort of not. Because as soon as he wrote that letter, I felt like the feelings I did have were semi-extinguished. It is hard to explain. I feel like I can get over the crush, but I don't know if I can get over the fact that we will never end up together at all.

So I am caught between telling him everything is cool, and that I just want to go back to the way things were, without him worrying about the implications of what he is saying. And the other part of me knows that he will be cautious around me, and there is nothing I can do to change that now. But the last thing I want is for him to be cautious. The reason he is my best friend is because we have never had to be cautious, we could always be open and honest. And that is what I was trying to do in my letter. But I guess I blew it out of proportion, and now I am paying the price, by sabotaging his trust in me. By changing the way he views me forever.

And that is the thing I could never have been prepared for.

So maybe I made a mistake. Where do you draw the line between being selfish and selfless? Maybe telling him everything I did was selfish, because it helped me to find answers, but sent his world into turbulence. Maybe it was stupid, because things are so fucked up. And maybe it was right, because now I can stop thinking that every relationship I end up in will be doomed because Andrew is my soulmate.

But I really didn't want to know that. And I can't even tell you how that makes me feel because I am too busy logicising everything so that I don't have to think about the truth, that the things I have believed in for years have been shattered, and now I have to rebuild the fabrics of our friendship, and of my life, because I can't have him in the back of my mind anymore.

And I wonder, has a small part of me been so close to him since I have known him because I subconciously wanted something more?

And if that's true, what happens to our friendship now? The visits, the phone calls. Do they slowly cease to exist because they are pointless?

I don't believe that Andrew and I won't get through this. I know we will. But what will be left when we come out?

Anne