It started off on rough footing. It was rocky. Sure, on paper, some things aligned, and that’s why our friends thought it might work. But off the record, we were a shit show from the word go. You were an introverted Virgo with deep, festering wounds in your ability to trust - which is a problem even for a healthy virgo. I was a badly damaged Gemini with FOMO and a desperate need to belong. You were an aging frat boy who couldn’t come to terms with the timing out of your mojo. Of your legacy of the party boy with the golden hair. I was an aging free spirit, panicking about growing old alone with no one to adventure with. In some ways, we were the perfect fit.

And some things worked. They worked enough to work it out. And after we got through the worst of it, I made a choice. I didn’t know if I could see a life with you. But I chose to. I didn’t know if I could settle down to meet the long and detailed list of expectations that you had for a partner. But I chose to. I didn’t know if I could be content in your quiet world. But I chose to. I made a choice. and in the end, there was no one to blame but me.

We had some good times. Really, truly good times. So many things that I will never be able to chase from my memory. You have been my best fried, and there is no faking that bond. We’ve leaned on each other. You’ve saved my life and I’ve saved yours. Because life isn’t just breathing. It’s being able to wake up without hating the world, and you did that for me more mornings than I can count. For that I will always be grateful.

But you didn’t make the same choice. You kept your options open. And you never lied to me about that. You never led me on, verbally. You told me you weren’t sure. You told me you didn’t know. And I had made a choice so I told you it was ok. I was patient. I believed in us. I believed that all the ways that we made each other better and more real meant something. I believed that the ways we helped each other tap into our full potential and redeem our broken history, meant something. You were my best friend. I believed I chose right.

I was committed to you. Unconditionally. I studied your habits, your patterns. I learned your needs. I saw your illness and your darkness, I saw your strength and your brilliance. I loved them all the same. I worked hard to understand how to skate to the puck. To love you where and how you needed to be loved. The crazy thing is, you learned that about me too. You put that effort in. I learned, against everything I’d ever been taught or had modeled, how to back off and give you space, and appreciate even that. I was committed. I was in it. I chose you.

But you never chose me. I didn’t annoy you, which was a big deal. But you never chose me. You tolerated me. You allowed me to love you. You lived inside of my love and gave back what you could. But you never chose me. I didn’t have the list of options you needed in whatever model you were seeking. And I’ll tell you boy, nobody ever will. And I can say with a fairly high level of confidence, nobody is going to choose you like I did. They’ll love you. They’ll use you. They’ll annoy you. But they won’t choose you. People don’t do that much these days.

And now, like a fool, I stand on the other side of the final rejection. The last boot to my heart. And I choose differently. I choose to seek out a life that wants me in it. A life that has space for me. A life that chooses me. How to unchoose all the commitments I’ve made and move forward, I don’t know. How to even begin investing again, I have no idea. But I am choosing that path. I am changing my mind. I don’t choose you anymore.

I still love you more than any other human being, and I’m sorry for both of us, but there’s no one to blame but me. Because I chose. I knew the risks. I knew the reality, you never sheltered me from that. But I chose.