It had a quote from Bear.
It was from a conversation we had, about our dreams.
Or his dreams, which fascinated and inspired me. It may have been why he was so irresistible to me; He just did his own thing and I seemed to have little impact on his life. We only saw each other when it suited him.
Which was another thing I liked, no one understood.
How could I not take initiative to see each other? And didn’t I want him to be there for me when I wasn’t doing well? How could I give him all the power, controlling everything?
That not having a say in whether or not we were going to see each other, was actually one of the most intoxicating things about it, baffled them.
I usually added that I would initiate contact sometimes, to ensure he didn’t feel excluded. But he rarely accepted the invitation.
Late 1993, he had taken his physical exercise to the next level. It didn’t seem to take him any effort. He had been training every day since October, November, and he had been keeping it up.
I immediately started dreaming what I would be able to achieve if I did that.
But Bear reminded me this wasn’t the first time I was inspired by his discipline. He said he would be more frustrating than inspiring me, since I seemed to be having so much trouble to stick to a regiment.
I denied and ensured him 1994 would be different.
Starting with quoting him on the frustration thing, at the beginning of my journal.
Only to not read it again until January 1995 when archiving the journal.
And suddenly I felt so guilty.
Not for not keeping my word to Bear – regardless if he would have been more inclined to stay with me and not break up if I had become more successful at my fitness dreams.
I felt guilty for not backing myself up.
It wasn’t just the fitness.
I vowed to become a writer in 1994, and then didn’t.
It wasn’t all bad, don’t get me wrong. Both Bear and me finished our thesis and got our Masters. We both started our working lives as well.
And then a month ago he broke up, and now it’s January 1995, and I m like:
Where did the time go? Where did my dreams go to workout every day (in my case yoga) and to become a writer?
It was all so very sad.
How full of life I still felt one year ago. Everything Bear and me had been sharing. Our five years of being lovers felt like a heart shaped bubble. A curated experience like something you could put in a museum.
The intensity, and the beauty of it just brought tears to my eyes.
For the first time I cried, thinking about our years together, and that he had moved on. Wanted a family. Wanted normalcy. Didn’t want me anymore, the girl who had asked him to have her first time sex with.
Because her boyfriend had ended it, right before her 17th birthday, and she didn’t want to leave this to chance or let it fall into inexperienced hands.
I remember how a burden had been lifted from my shoulders, when I had found him.
Just like the past month after the breakup, I had been devoid of emotion, and I had been pragmatic about what needed to be done. I was young but I was determined to find someone skillful to give me the first time sex.
And took all the steps on instinct.
Bear immediately sprung to mind, because I knew him from stories from two friends and had seen him on a number of occasions. We had been briefly introduced but never really talked.
Bear had been sexually active, and was notorious for not committing. Through the two friends (I can’t remember which one) I got his telephone number, I came up with some kind of excuse for needing it.
I rang him up, explained who I was, and that I wanted to ask him something. But that I could only do it in person. We set a date to have coffee together, and I was business-like about what I wanted from him.
It wasn’t until he said Yes, that I broke into tears.
Suddenly all the tension of setting this up, the fear of staying a virgin far too long, grief of having lost Jonathan at such an important time;
It all came out.
“I m sorry,” I sobbed.
Bear just smiled and took my hands over the table. Touched my face. I wanted to crawl away, I felt so vulnerable. Bear tried to look me in the eye, but the more he tried to stay connected with me, the more I started to cry.
“It’s going to be fine, okay?” he finally said when I had calmed down a bit. “You trust me?”
“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. Do you understand?”
I didn’t explain that I wasn’t crying because of him doing something. But out of fear of him not doing something. Out of fear of him changing his mind and leaving me hanging. And a virgin.
But just like the daily exercise, Bear did what he promised.
The first time we didn’t go all the way, but stuck to the things I was already experienced with. And the second time we had real sex.
It was extremely emotional. It had been such a big hangup for me, and at first I really thought it was that stress, why I was crying.
But it would stay that way.
The fucking brought out so much tension, I cried more often than not. I felt like a baby in his arms, and it was all okay. More than okay.
It was wonderful.
And now he has ended it.
And there is this bubble of beautiful memories, that will never go away.
Our first date he had ensured me he would never do something I didn’t want;
He held true to his word.
All the way up to the end.
As soon as he wanted a normal relationship and possibly a family, he asked me for a similar coffee date as I had five years ago.
And he left.
Bear was right. 1994 Was not the year he would inspire me to great heights, and became the source of frustration instead. Not because he had stuck to his exercise regime and I hadn’t. But because our time together had come to an end, and had left me empty handed.
Finding the quote in the diary was the first time I cried for our breakup.
For not backing myself.
For making resolutions I didn’t keep.
For not being a writer.
Not having a lover.
After two days I decided enough was enough. I was only 22 years old, and I still had my life ahead of me. I took a piece of paper, and drew out what I wanted this year and also for the upcoming years. Just as Bear had done for his.
There were way too many blanks to my liking.
With whom was I going to make love?
In whom would I trust?
It was an incredibly lonely exercise, and I can’t say that I’m suddenly healed and looking to the future with hope and dreams.
But I will put one foot in front of another, and become a writer.
Alone if I have to.
An unexamined life is not worth living
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I remember when we met | “1994”
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