The Pain Game

Gray skies loom over New York City, on this lonely Saturday morning. This blog post is a reprieve from my latest project: I’m compiling a book index for a forthcoming publication. My editor was kind enough to shaft me with it during my only week off from teaching. Nah, it’s not so bad; I’m grateful for the opportunity, and it helps bring me back to when I used to work for her. We’ll call the happier times in my life B.N. (Before Nancy). 

Throughout this nightmare ordeal, I’ve lost a sense of who I am. My identity has been clouded, wavered, and has been a perpetual question mark for most of the year. Who will I become from here? 

Building this index teaches me patience and precision; I’m more accustomed to the latter than the former. But it’s good for me; it helps occupy my already overcrowded mind with different things. There’s no real point to this post, except to serve as an escape from reading one of the chapters in this book. It dragged on far too long, and never arrived at a point, until 3/4 of the way into the (alleged) “argument.”

Reading through this chapter, excising keywords for the index, I began playing a mental game: The pain game.

Courtesy: RTL

Which pain, apart from this chapter, would I prefer?

-Giving Nancy a call? Way more painful than this chapter

-Seeing Nancy again? Way more painful than this chapter

-Passing another kidney stone? I’d take that over this chapter and meeting Nancy

Yes, friends, one of the most excruciating pains (maybe the most excruciating pain) is passing a kidney stone. I would still rather pass one or two of these, if it meant going back one year ago and avoiding Nancy like the plague. Or, better yet, meeting her but rejecting her from the get-go. 

What pain would you prefer, given your situation/circumstance?

It’s dark fun. Now, back to the book. 

Baby Blues | Crazy Timeline

Courtesy: Baby.com

Admittedly, I’ve been dreading this blog post for some time now. As I previously mentioned, Nancy is claiming to be pregnant with her second child. I know how much being a mother means to her, and I do want her to be happy, but it stings. I know it’s shitty to say, but I cannot handle another blow to my heart right now, if she’s truly pregnant.

Now. Why do I say if?

Well, friends, she’s given us plenty of reasons to distrust her. Right? 

After I left our yoga studio, she claimed she was pregnant by putting up a “Baby Stuff” board on Pinterest. Sounds vague, but one never knows. She amassed all pins baby, but specifically, a baby boy. Why is this significant?

She knows I always wanted a son. Everything in her baby board is blue for a boy. She’s either hoping, or claiming, to be pregnant with a boy. 

Ouch.

There is a strange timeline that I’ve figured out in recent weeks, however. 

| Timeline she’s bullshitting | 

April 25th: I leave the yoga studio

May 18th: Her last yoga class at the studio

May 25th: She claims she’s pregnant; cancels her monthly yoga package at our old studio; I’m not coming back.

May 25th: She accuses me of hacking her FB account; I’m neither on FB, nor do I know how to hack, nor would I even think to do that! I absolutely did not do such a thing. Dave, however, has a history of stealing passwords to check up on her. Or maybe it was another scorned lover.

June 1: Baby board goes up on Pinterest. (Her sister has been trying for a baby, maybe with luck)

July: Photographed with (mutual friends) and wine glass, etc.; may be going to a new yoga studio

August: No further mention of a child; I’ve been off Pinterest one month

The reason for this timeline is to note that I am dealing with someone who is hell-bent on calling me “crazy,” yet may be fabricating details about her life and hurting me with them. 

While she may in fact be pregnant, as I said she wants another baby, and she planned to get pregnant in the spring, before D-Day, it is unconfirmed. Either way, I’m not even sure how to deal with this; whose ex goes off to get pregnant right after they break up? 

Not only am I trying to heal from the breakup, but now have to deal with the reality that she’s having another baby with him.

If she’s cruel enough to construct the image of having a baby, specifically a baby boy to get back at me, then I truly have no words.

Lately | Unending Speculation and Sexuality

Although I considered it in the back of my mind, while “dating” Nancy, only now do I feel the possibility of it rising up through my chest: that she rejected me based on my sexuality. While there remains unending speculation and scenarios that may or may not explain her decision to remain with Dave, I’m in a perpetual cycle of “what the…?” Wendy and I discuss this as not having answers or closure (or any semblance of closure). 

Courtesy: Surrey Edit

Lately, friends, the issue of my sexuality has been plaguing my mind. Perhaps Nancy realized that she was unable to sustain or wanted to secure a relationship with a woman. In the past, I often told Nancy that if this were an issue, I would walk away; it is something to be seriously considered, especially given her daughter. If it were this reason, I wanted my pain upfront. 

I’m left with feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy. My sexuality, the fact that I am not a man, could be a factor in all of this. While it may or may not seem an obvious part of the overall puzzle, confronting it is not easy. Rather, it connects to my feelings of isolation, loneliness, rejection, and defeat. 

Some of you might think, “what does it matter?” but it does to me. At the core of my identity is my sexuality; I feel it in ways straight people do not. It’s not often that someone questions their lover leaving them because of their inherent straightness. Of course there are exceptions when it comes to homo-or bisexual infidelity, but I think you understand my main point.

While Nancy and I were together, I never felt that my sexuality was much of an issue. Then again, who thought I’d be where I am today? Very unpredictable circumstances.

A good friend of mine also raised a good point: in a way, Nancy offered me an instant family. She brought experience as a lover, someone who could commit (just not uncommit), and a beautiful daughter. That’s gold for some gay folks. 

I will miss being part of Lana’s life very much; in fact, Wendy wants to examine my relationship with Lana at some point in the future. For certain, I will need an entire box of Kleenex tissues for that session. I wanted so much to have that family life with Nancy and Lana. But I guess that makes me sound silly and pathetic; a sentimentalist with too much longing and not much sober reality.

Lately | Rejection and Defeat: The One-Two Punch

Courtesy: Sky Sports

Since my therapy session Monday, I have been combating feelings of rejection and defeat. Wendy asked me to begin unpacking the two, as they are inextricably linked. While we’ll likely focus on these feelings more next week, I can only explain them as a two-headed monster, equally gnawing away at my insides.

Not only was I rejected by Nancy once, but twice: I stood listening to her tell me that she never loved me the way I loved her, and that she chose Dave because she loved him. On one level, I feel as though she said those things to keep me away, especially given the fact that I still have feelings for her. On the other, it brings me no peace or the (expected) impetus to move on–it’s just an isolating and painful experience.

I also feel an incredible amount of defeat, as I am still working to understand the two dynamics. I think after most every breakup, there is the usual form of rejection, but it dissipates over time. For me, rejection is more compounded by defeat, as I see no hope in reconciliation for the future. It seems as though when I lost Nancy, I lost her for good. We will not see or speak again. This still troubles me as well–it’s all a whirlpool of lost feelings.

Sometimes I think the underlying part of feeling rejection and defeat is how I was (more or less) used by Nancy. I vacillate between accepting her commitments to keep her family together, and seeing them as excuses for rejecting me outright. Even if she believed herself to be at the precipice of great change in her life–finally detaching and divorcing Dave–why did I have to bare the brunt of indecision, or worse yet, no intent to leave him at all?

I was her temporary fix for an unhappy marriage.

Even given all of her pins on Pinterest, promoting their marriage and “happy” life, they only reinforce the fact that I feel completely rejected and defeated because she chose him. I feel that I went through an unbelievable cycle of pain…for nothing. Ultimately, he was never going to be on the chopping block, so to speak; that meant I had to go. And she never knew this?

Some days, I find myself breaking down over this at my desk or in the middle of doing work. Others, I want to pull the covers over my head and hide. I feel I cannot ever face her again, I’m simply too embarrassed and defeated; I feel as though they are strengthening their marriage as a “fuck you” to me. To prove me wrong, and forever invalidate the love Nancy and I had at one time. (I know it may seem crazy to even say this, but I know what I felt. The feelings were real between us, but she chose to continue living in her fantasy reprieve, while I later paid the price.)

I feel so low. Just defeated. I have no other words to really describe the phenomenon–this is the best I can do. I’ve taken punch after punch, and I’m down for the count right now.

 

Lately | Complicated Grief and A Coping Strategy

Courtesy: APA.org

A few weeks ago, I was diagnosed with complicated grief. 

Prior to this label, I had some experience with grief, but never knew that it could be complicated. Unlike simple, or uncomplicated grief, an individual will go through the stages of grieving and eventually integrate the loss into their lives; it becomes a part of them. Complicated grief is when there’s sort of a breakdown in the grieving process of the particular loss. For some people, and this is true in my case, we’re stuck in a cycle of grief; we cannot integrate the loss into our lives and “move on.”

In fact, two of the phrases that I have come to hate over the course of my grief are “let it go” and “move on.” These phrases are nothing more than cliches that never provide insight or help; rather, they are used to pacify and try to make someone feel more at ease about their loss. Because my response to those who say “let it go” and “move on” is how? and where?

How do I let go of my lack of closure and inability to forgive the past? How do I stop the feeling of loss and sadness that grips my chest and stomach every day? How do I stop the script of rejection in my head and heart? How do I begin to feel alive again without Nancy and Lana? How do I cope with the fact that my relationship with Nancy is over? How do I tell my mind and heart to forget her, when she’s the only one that I think about? How do I tell my heart to forget loving her, when I know that if we met at a different time, we would be together? How do I begin to feel it is over? 

My mind knows that our relationship is over, but it’s a long mile down to my heart. Neither of them agree. There’s a great disparity among them. 

Even though Nancy let me go in November, I never had the chance to even heal. She came back to the yoga studio, she pushed for me to be friends with her, and then she sent me mixed messages by kissing me and being affectionate. What was I supposed to believe then? How could I let go? Initially, I think I was in shock and was hopeful that her choice to be with Dave would change. Now I know that likely will not even happen, or she never planned to leave him. 

Where do I go on from here? Where do I begin reshaping my identity after her? Where do I go to so I don’t fear running into her? Where do I go to escape reality when it’s truly painful? Where do I begin processing the fact that I’m lonely and all alone. Nancy and Dave have each other; I have no one. 

How do I cope with the fact that she’s pregnant? That she’s moved on and I haven’t even begun to truly feel the loss, until I went no contact in April. I’ve only really begun to make sense of all this–by myself–four months ago. I only entered therapy this month.

 

| Coping Strategies | 

Courtesy: Giphy

I’ve been in dark places, as I’m certain everyone has at one point or another. Being involved in an affair places one in the darkest pit of isolation and loneliness, particularly if you are the third party. Cheating spouse aside, you are the guilty party; you wrecked a perfectly normal home and seduced/lured a perfectly committed partner from his/her loving family.

To help cope with all of this, and for me especially, coping with a woman on a Pin-spree, I created a Fuck You Folder. On the desktop of my iMac, I designated a folder labeled, Fuck You, and it is here that I place my feelings and/or responses to Nancy’s Pinterest tirades. While I do not have to engage with her directly, or virtually through social media, I can retain a place/spot for my responses. Some sayings I take from social media, Google, or simply create in Photoshop. And, believe me, the ones I create myself are much more pointed and nastier. They feel the best.

At times, I am so tempted to nuclear her ass on Pinterest by posting all of what is in my Fuck You Folder and let it all rip. Release my bottled anger and let her have it. I planned to do this, prior to finding out she’s (allegedly) pregnant. Do I want to upset a pregnant woman? No. So I found a way to privately express my frustration and all other emotions.

My best advice, friends: start a Fuck You Folder for whatever you’re going through. It helps.

Lately | “Whistling in the Dark”

My therapist’s name is Wendy, and Monday was only my second session with her. Although I was apprehensive about discussing myself, she learned about my childhood, prior relationships, and that I developed an avoidant attachment style. Nancy’s attachment style, to no real surprise, is disorganized. It’s also no great revelation how the push-pull dynamic worked in our sordid relationship. Whereas I believed I could trust Nancy, I avoided her at the threat of getting hurt. Where she feared potential abandonment, she sought to provoke me to leave. Self-sabotage is truly unattractive.

There were two Nancys: the one I fell in love with, and the one in November, after Dave threw her out of the house and her parents pressured her to go back home. She often told me that if she did not have her daughter, who she loves very much, it would be easier for her to leave. That I understand, but didn’t she know this before she began a romantic relationship/affair with me? I cannot forgive her for any of this. 

I told Wendy about Nancy’s (seemingly) indirect communication with me via Pinterest, despite the fact that my account was deactivated last month. The “narrative” that Nancy is delivering to my family, friends, and I guess me, is that she is changing and rebuilding her marriage–7 months from D-Day–and has been redecorating her home.

Redecorating. It’s interesting because I was in her home that weekend in October of last year. We had dinner at her dining room table, which is now in her living room, and we made love on the sofa that is now where her dining room used to be. 

I guess she’s exorcising the memory of me in her home, after these many months. 

She also added a new pin board with her husband’s name on it, as he wants room dividing shelves.

What a happy couple! They’re redecorating and picking out swatch colors. I’m almost tempted to ask if they purchased new areas rugs from which they can continue sweeping their troubles under. 

In addition to the happy couple redecorating, she’s also shitting rainbows these days: she’s happy and smiling; fucking beaming with rays of sunshine!

No surprise, as infidelity is often known to bring out the absolute best in a couple. 

While they may truly be working hard to rebuild their marriage–the one that never worked in the first place–that would be some solid, gold star counseling. Assuming they’ve retained the same therapist, how much more could they be benefitting?  If therapy was working for them before, why did she feel the need to have an affair? Yeah. Solid gold.

Wendy told me to share this all with her during the second half of our session. She explained that Nancy may in fact be “whistling in the dark.” In other words, using these images not only as a way to get back at me, but visually convince herself that she made the correct decision in choosing Dave over me and that everything is just fine.

Maybe they have rebuilt their marriage, maybe not. Whistling or otherwise, her tune has changed.

Summer 2014 | Update

If you’ve managed to read all of my previous posts, you’ll know my and Nancy’s history. You’ll also know that I chose to go NC (no contact) for the last 4 months. I since moved yoga studios, but have returned to our original studio; Nancy is no longer there. 

In fact, she terminated her yearly contract as of May 25, 2014 because she is pregnant. 

The reason for my return to the studio is more medical than anything else. I reaggravated an old injury by going to a new studio, one in which they did not heat as much as my previous one. This hurt a disc in my lower spine, and, although I tried other studios in the surrounding area, none helped me to heal more than my original studio. 

When I found out that Nancy was pregnant with her second child, I immediately sought therapy. Given all that I had done to help myself get over her, I am still unable to process everything I’ve been through. I simply cannot handle the spinning reality of my situation. In less than one year, I met a woman that I fell in love with, for the first time in my life, and she decided not to divorce her husband, and now have another baby with him. 

Since April, Nancy has been on the social media platform, Pinterest, keeping in indirect touch with me. She will regularly post pins that have to do with me, or her current marital situation. All are hurtful. 

While I used to have a Pinterest account–and, yes, she knew of it–I am no longer on. I used to chronicle what was going on in my life by way of pins, and conversations with friends and family on there, but no longer. The last board that I put on my account was in reference to a move to another state in 2016. Her baby, if it is real, is expected in February 2015. 

Recall that she wanted another child with Dave, and would begin trying in the spring. This, however, was before D-Day; apparently, that hasn’t stopped either of them from trying to save their marriage, which was broken long before Nancy and I had an affair. 

Although Nancy has accused me of doing things I never did to her, she has since claimed on social media–via a Pinterest board–that she’s having a baby. Maybe this is an illusion to keep me away from her, as sometimes I wonder if she feels threatened by the fact that I am still in love with her, which is why I left the original studio.

I’ve enforced no contact every day since April 25, 2014. She, however, still haunts me with posts (seemingly) in response to my friends and family. She thinks it’s a battle over how she didn’t hurt me, but I remain hurt, and my family and friends remain completely dumbfounded by her behavior and choices.

From here on, I will update my blog based on the issues plaguing my life after Nancy. I have been diagnosed with complicated grief from my experience with her, and I cry about it all each day. I am left with a gaping hole from the loss of Nancy and Lana in my life, but realize I have no choice but to stay away.

April 29, 2014 | The Last Time

After my emails, I did not contact her ever again. Present day included. I must, however, complete this past chronicling of our relationship so that I can move forward with the events that have happened after April 25, 2014.

As you know, dear reader, Nancy now had a copy of my yoga schedule. I used this as part of a strategy to protect myself, yet it also left me vulnerable to approach. Still, it was a psychological way to neutralize her and prevent her from showing up anywhere near me. Why? If she did approach me, I have evidence of not only stating–in writing–that I wished to keep her away from me, but she breached that informal contract of trust. If had to get a restraining order issued, this would help me do so. At this point, based on her erratic behavior–and no explanation as to why she would be doing all of this to me–I had to protect myself.

On April 25th, I was slated to take a 6 a.m. yoga class and that would be the only one that I attended. Of course, Nancy and I both had a copy of my yoga schedule, so she knew where I would be, though I did not know where she would turn up. This is significant because I found out later that day that my original yoga instructor, Jane, would be leaving the studio and attending Tuesday night’s class would be the last opportunity to see her off. 

Not only did I have a difficult day at work, and needed the additional day’s yoga practice to relieve stress, but I decided to attend an unscheduled session to say goodbye to my favorite instructor. Now, friends, Jane was often a threat to Nancy, as she felt that Jane liked me but we were never anything more than friends. Keep this in mind.

That night, I brought Jane cupcakes and flowers from all of the yogis who were saying goodbye. I asked the front desk to hold these articles, while I took class, and that we’d all celebrate with Jane afterward. 

While I was waiting for class to begin, Nancy steps out of the hot room, as she took the 6:15p yoga class. We both saw each other; her eyes on me. I turned away, as it was even more awkward after her avoidant behavior last week and my email saying to stay away. After a few minutes, she approached me and asked to talk to me outside.

We headed out of the studio room to talk; we were on opposites sides of the hallway. 

Me: “Are you okay?” (I figured I’d ask, not knowing what mood or reaction I might get from her)

Nancy: “Yes. I guess you’re taking Jane’s class at 7:45p. That wasn’t on the schedule you gave me.” (she seemed sad, pained; her eyes not meeting mine)

Me: “I know. I’m sorry about that. I had a difficult day. I took the 6 a.m., as scheduled, but I found out it’s Jane’s last night here and I came to take her final class to say goodbye.”

Nancy: “Well, I was going to do a double.” (The 20 in 30 challenge was ending and she wanted to get in her final few classes; taking “a double” meant that she would take a second class that evening to count in her overall tally for the challenge).

Me: “If it’s going to be an issue, then I’ll leave. I have no problem with it. I’ll leave.”

Nancy: “Why can’t we just take the class together?”

Me: “Nah. It’s fine; I just came to say goodbye, but I don’t have to take the class. I’ll leave.”

Nancy: “Can we just take the class together?” (she sighed when she said this)

Me: “Sure.” (I did this more for Jane than Nancy)

She looked away again and seemed hurt and conflicted. Still being in love with her, and never wanting anything like this to happen between us, I said, “Come here.”

She hesitated.

I said again, softly, “Come here. If you want to, give me a hug.”

She walked over and put her arms around me. After a few seconds, I felt her arms squeeze me.

Despite my feelings for her, I was strategically testing her and proving that she never thought I was physical threat to her. I don’t know what caused her to feel threatened by me, but one does not go anywhere near another, when they feel scared. She squeezed me.

We let go of the embrace and walked back into the studio. I said to her that Thursday was my last night here–as she knew from my yoga schedule–and that I had something for Lana. I was unable to give her the birthday gift I purchased for her months ago. In packing and moving, I discovered it and figured that if I were never going to see them again, I wanted Lana to have her gift. As you’ll recall, Lana’s nickname is bumblebee, and so I found this little case in the shape of a felt bee. Inside, was a bumblebee necklace for a child.

(I still have it, as Nancy never showed up that Thursday.)

She said that she would think about it. We entered the hot yoga studio one last time together. This holds sentimental significance, because, as you’ll recall again, we met in August of 2013. It was this room, this Tuesday night yoga scheduling, this same instructor, where we first met.

In heartbreaking and poetic fashion, where we ended is exactly the same space, time, and place, where we started our connection.

Following our last and final yoga class, Nancy took note of the fact that I got Jane something as part of her resignation “party.” 

Friends, I will never know if it was some old jealousy that prompted it, but when I returned to look for Nancy in the studio that night–following our class–she was gone. No goodbye. Nothing. She left in haste.

That night was the last time I ever saw or spoke to Nancy.

April 15, 2014 | The Next Day

After Monday night’s showdown in the parking lot–the first time we spoke in months–I saw her again the next day. This time, however, she was absolutely bizarre in her behavior with me. On my way out of the yoga building, she was walking in with an instructor. It seemed as though Nancy didn’t want to enter the building alone, and, for protection, made as though she were walking and talking with the instructor.

As they passed, I asked Nancy if I could speak with her a moment. She avoided eye contact with me and quickly said, “No. Sorry. I don’t want to talk to you.”

My head was spinning; so confused. The previous night she talked to me. What happened between then and now? 

I was pissed–and probably wrong to pursue the issue–so I went back into the studio to ask her what was going on. How could she act this way when she talked to me the previous night?

Her only explanation was: “I talked to you for too long last night.”

What the fuck did that mean? Now that I reflect back, the only logical explanation, may or may not be that she still very much suffers from her PTSD diagnosis (though then it was connected to her former miscarriage). Perhaps she felt traumatized since I gave back the bracelet and was afraid of me. No clue. No explanation from her. Conversely, if she were traumatized by me, how did she talk to me the previous night? None of it made sense.

Before I left her, I said, “There’s something wrong with you. Your behavior is very erratic.”

After replaying these events in my mind, I was so frustrated and confused that I emailed her. I said that I didn’t understand how she could speak with me one night and then blow me off the next–just dismiss me after she was the one to take the Monday night class and walk out with me. 

Instead of sending me an email and saying that she would be at yoga on Tuesday, and that it would be too much for her to see/talk to me, she just blindsided me with erratic and confusing behavior. This infuriated me.

I told her that if she wanted to talk about anything bothering her–even meet up for coffee in a public place–that I would be willing to do so. In fact, I was leaving in another week or so–perhaps we could try to leave on better terms. I also said that I understood and respected if she did not wish to meet up. I put the offer out there and got no response. In fact, she took to social media to claim–by way of some lofty, bullshit aphorism–that I was in fact “crazy.”

Not hearing back from her, I followed up with another email to say that I had it with her behavior. It was truly nothing short of erratic and completely confusing. I constructed the last email to her–ever–as an alibi; protecting myself just in case she tried to leverage anything against me. I stated that I had respected her wishes not to contact her since January, and that the reason for this email was clearly based on her decision to attend the Monday night yoga class and establish contact with me.

I attached a copy of my yoga schedule–through the 20 in 30 challenge–telling her that I no longer want to see or speak to her again. She should use my schedule to avoid me. Rhetorically, I want to put her on the defense, while protecting myself from any accusations she would make against my character. I have a public and professional reputation to protect.

No response, but she did use the schedule.

April 14, 2014 | Showdown, Strangeness, Slammed

Recall on April 10th that Nancy and I not only made eye contact for the first time in months, but spoke to one another. I still believe the reason for this opening of communication had to do with my plan to leave the studio in June. What might further convince you of this, dear reader, is what happened a few days later.

On the 14th, I took my regular evening yoga class–which Nancy knew about, as I sometimes switched to early morning classes to avoid her during the challenge–and guess who showed up for the first time? Yes. Nancy.

Months later, I discovered that she reactivated her Twitter account, not bothering to block her tweets from public view, and actually said she planned to take the class that evening. Was she hoping that I’d see this? I never used Twitter much. Still, she began following my usual Monday night instructor, which still creeps me out a bit. Although Nancy and I used to take Monday night classes together, in fact, she got me into these night classes so we could be together, she hadn’t attended them in months.

There I was on Monday night, sitting on my yoga mat, and waiting for the class to begin. As I looked at the door, Nancy walked in, looked over at me and waved. I was fucking floored–my brain couldn’t even process what I was seeing in real time (ever have a moment like that?). I waved back, but was in total shock. She chose a spot near the front side of the room–convenient or otherwise–in my line of view, as I was seated in the back of the room. 

After class, I picked up my mat and was the first student to exit the room. In a matter of minutes, she stepped out of the room and went to fill her water bottle up to rehydrate. This is interesting because I felt her eyes on me the entire time–wherever I stepped. I briefly spoke to one of the yogis who worked there and I could tell, from the corner of my eye, that she was listening to our conversation. Grabbing a towel, I then left that area where she was and headed to the changing area. 

Upon finishing up, I came out to the cubby area–to retrieve my shoes and car keys–and I approached the door to exit. Now, she conveniently chose the cubby, to place her things, nearest the exit door. This is all still the same layout as in previous posts, folks, this place did not get remodeled between then and now (hahaha!). As I put my hand on the door, she turned over her shoulder and asked if I was leaving; she walked out with me. I was stupidly stunned.

Alone, we walked down the long hallway together; she kept her head down and avoided eye contact with me but spoke about the challenge, keeping conversation light. Upon exiting the building to the (infamous) parking lot, she said goodnight and that she would see me soon.

I stopped her. I never liked pink elephants much.

I asked her if she had a minute to talk and she obliged. She opened the conversation by asking how I was doing, to which I replied, “Not well.” 

Me: “So. I guess you’re back?”

Nancy: “I only missed two weeks in January.”

Me: (I felt the need to quash her idea of “see[ing] me soon” and told her the “good” news) “Listen, I’m leaving the studio in June.”

Nancy (She turned to me, as we stood now facing each other): “Is it because of me?”

Me: “Yes. I want to tell you honestly why I’m leaving–even at the risk of seeming vulnerable–because I’m still in love with you, and because I want to see you, I can’t stay here. I’m going to a new studio.”

Immediately, her expression changed, and she asked which studio. Of course, I’m not that stupid, and responded with a vague, “A studio. It’s nowhere near you or where you live; in fact, it’s not even in a neighboring town from here.”

Nancy (seemingly frustrated): “Why do you have to leave? You have to do what’s best for you. You love it here.”

Me: “I told you why. I want to see you, and that’s a problem. Neither one of us should be in a place where it doesn’t feel comfortable. You asked me to stay away from you in January, to ‘leave you be,’ and I did. Now you’re back here.”

Nancy (I still wonder why she even said the following, in response): “Why can’t you just stay, why can’t we just be civil?”

Me: “Civil? You can’t even be in the same room with me. You don’t think I noticed that?”

Nancy: “Why can’t we just see each other in passing once in a while, here? We practically do that already.”

Me: “I can’t do that. Like I said, I want to see you. I’m still in love with you; I just want to do the right thing and stay away.”

Nancy: “I just don’t understand this. I can still care about you, but not be in love with you. I’ll always care about you.”

Me: “Could you ever love me again?”

Nancy: “No.”

Me: “Then I guess you never felt the way I felt about you. The way I loved you.”

Nancy: “No. I didn’t. I choose my family; I love Dave, we’ve been together a long time. You will be with someone else.”

Me: [silence, pain, shattered, etc.]

Nancy: “I read the letter [from D-Day]; you can’t imagine what happened after that. How horrible it was.”

Me: “Nancy, it was no great expose; he knew about me.”

Nancy: “He didn’t know everything. You can never come to my house again.”

Me: “I know that. Have I been there? No. I’m going away; I’ll move so far away you’ll never see me again.”

Nancy: “What if Lana had been there that day, when he got the letter?”

Me: “I knew she was by your parents’ house for the morning. I thought he knew.”

Nancy: “He didn’t. I take responsibility for everything. I’m sorry I broke your heart.”

Me: [I shook my head and changed the subject] “How’s Lana?”

Nancy: “She’s good; she just turned 3 and we had a party for her.” (Friends, she had a birthday party for Lana in the kids gym located in the same building as where we had our affair–fucking weird.)

Me: “I didn’t feel it was my place to acknowledge her birthday in March, but I also didn’t forget about it.” (it killed me not to wish her daughter a happy birthday; killed me)

Nancy: “Thank you. And happy belated birthday to you.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Nancy: “I have to go. I have a baby asleep at home.”

Me: “If you ever change your mind, you and your daughter can come back to me.” (I know; I’m stupid.)

We left in separate directions.