The end of a Polyamorous Relationship

This atypical day, you were sitting on a bench, waiting for my arrival. You had held your body high, your back straight, you waited as I approached. You were not expecting me to be on time, so you asked what's wrong. I was in tears the moment I saw you, and I was not crying because I was unhappy to see you, but because I knew the truth.

"We had a good run." You said.

I said, "it was epic." I had pretended this was going to have a French ending. We'd live happily ever after, in the shadow, but we'd live together, happy, even, knowing you had belonged with me, and I you.

But now it was going to end.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing. Nothing happened." You replied.

But that's not true. Everything, from the beginning to the end, it was just lies after lies.

I never wanted to see anything, not a sign, not if it's in front of me. Now my heart was fully broken.

I cried. You held me. Let me. I had never cried in front of you. Not anyone.

"So what now?" I asked.

"Now we part ways. We are adults." You said. Calmly. Lovingly. Pretended love was the best kind of love.

"But why? Why did you tell me you loved me so?" I knew I sounded like a dummy. A woman I would ordinarily despise. A weak, heart-broken, terrible-at-judging-people kind of woman. A loser.

"Because it was what you needed to hear. I gave you what you needed to hear." You held my hand. You almost looked sincere.

"Was any of it real?" I asked.

"Yes. We had a good time." You said.

"Is this how you say goodbye?" I knew I sounded like a fool.

"No, I usually do not say goodbye. We shall be friends. Always."

This was not how I envisioned the end. I had thought I had perfected this game. I never lost a hand. I did not lose the hand the last time. I should not have lost the hand this time. I always knew this was a game. You - played me like a flute.

"Com'on, you know as well as I know, you never wanted to see me only." You were then becoming cruel. I hated the stating of obvious.

"But you did too. I knew you were seeing others. You hid everything from me. You disappeared for long stretches of time. You only wanted me when you were free, when you and I were separated for a period of time. Almost never fails. You ignored me on those other days. I had to find other people, to occupy my space, my time." I tried to argue.

You did not say anything. You looked almost pained. As if you knew what I said was the truth, and you couldn't offer me anything in response.

"I have cried for you." Last, weak, attempt.

Silence.

"I have loved you more than you will ever know." I was defeated.

"If you write enough about us, about your undying love, you'd actually believe it." You gave me a crooked smile and your tone became sarcastic.

"How many men have you been with while we are dating?" You asked.

"I told you you could date as many women as you want." I replied in defense.

"And yet, here we are." You concluded. A polyamorous relationship ends when one party can't handle it anymore.

"So what now?" I began to cry.

"Now we move on." You looked resolved.

"Would I fall in love again?" I asked you. I wanted so much for this to be it. This being the love that defied gravity, the love that proved everything I've ever read, to be wrong. I wanted to believe I was the one who changed your course, I was the one whom you believed to be THE one, even though I never believed THE one existed for me.

"Did I break your heart?" I asked, now attempting to be funny.

"No, but I was hurt too." You had never called me a liar, a cheater, an unfaithful person who's not trustworthy. You had never gotten upset with me. You simply, disappeared most of the time, only resurfacing when you wanted me again.

That's why I couldn't possibly get upset with you. You had covered your track so well.

"Now what?" I began to feel weak in my stomach. I wanted to throw up. I was feeling dizzy and I wanted to scream, I had never lost temper before this day.

"Stay. Stay with me. I need to be with you. You and I were supposed to be together, for the remains of our day." I resorted to begging instead

"That is so unsightly. You will be fine. Go home. We can talk again." You said in such an authoritative tone.

I knew better. This would the last time I'd ever hear from you. 

"Is there another way to this?" I asked.

"I told you. Nothing needed to change. We meet and we have fun and we go on our separate ways." You went back to the rule book, rule # 1. Never have any expectations.

I complicated things. I had imagined us walking into the sunset and spending the rest of our lives together, falling asleep under the palm tree, walking on snow covered tracks, staring into the northern light. I loved you. The only epic love I had ever felt. I had imagined that you loved me so much so that you'd change your ways. I had then become obsessed and found out everything about you. The real you. The version of you I was never supposed to find out. You kept three other women on the side, like me. Never mind I dated three other men, on the side, also kept away from you, I wanted you all to myself.

"Bye now." I began to get up, but I was feeling dizzy, and I went to the nearby trash can and threw up.

How terrible. This was how you'd remember me, the last impression was me barfing.

Tonight I would go home alone. I would cry, cry until I no longer could shed any more tears. Tonight I would take all of my photos of you, digital or non-digital, delete, erase and destroy them all. Tomorrow I'd call boyfriend # 2, and when I see him, I'd give him the best freaking blow job in the world.

And if I ever run across you again, I'd pretend I never lost my cool, I'd chitchat just enough time for you to believe that I never thought much of you, and that enough time had passed, I'd forgotten how much you hurt me. I'd be fine. Really. I'd be fine.