Loveology

(with thanks to Regina Spektor for the title)

They say every person that comes into your life brings you a lesson to learn. Ever since this thing with Hugh started, a question had always lingered—What lesson do I need to learn from him? What is he meant to teach me?

I knew from the beginning there would be regrets when this thing ends. And I’m not being negative when I anticipate things ending or having regrets. It’s just a fact that I was faced with at the onset. There were no illusions that this was going to last. We both knew it was a temporary arrangement. But there was the hope that it would be otherwise, and being temporary didn’t make it any less painful.

As I found myself in that dark place once again, I tried to rationalize things, if only to offer myself some kind of consolation. If I could put everything within the confines of logic, then maybe I can finally make sense of things and make it hurt less. No such luck in that department, though.

But thinking and re-thinking, picking at the details make you realize certain things. And for the past few weeks, I think I’ve finally gotten to a semblance of understanding why he had to come into my life, at this time and in this way.

He taught me about desire. And how powerful desire could be. It was exciting and intoxicating. I was drunk with him and him with me. But no real love can exist with desire alone, and that I had to learn.

Ironically, too, he taught me about commitment. I half jokingly told S., “He’s committed to being non-commital.” That cracked her up. It just made me more sad. Sad to realize that I wanted it with him, that suddenly it didn’t seem too scary a prospect.

He opened me up in ways that no one did. I dared and took risks. “I’ve never seen you give yourself like this to anyone,” my sister said. “It’s good,” she says, “you’re finally learning to open up.”

He taught me about patience. God, I’ve given him chances more than I’ve given to anyone, despite my better judgment. But even with all the chances, there was no redemption, only disappointment. I could simply chalk everything up to three things: he just wasn’t ready, or he’s unwilling, or worse, he’s just plain incapable. Whatever the reason is, it hardly matters anymore.

“Maybe you had to go through this and him because he is the preparation for something better,” says my sister. Her words of wisdom offers little comfort right now. But it is another lesson this whole experience with him is teaching me—it is a lesson of faith. Faith that the future holds something much better, the big pay-off for all the struggles I had to contend with. Maybe next time, it will be my turn to win.

But lastly and more importantly, he’s trying to teach me about forgiveness. Although, it is one, I have yet to fully learn. Forgiveness for him, and all the shit he’s pulled. Forgiveness for myself and for whatever this whole thing had been. Wasn’t it Oprah who said, “forgiveness is the letting go of the hope that things could have been better,”?