04-26-2024, 06:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-26-2024, 07:07 PM by gayprojectforum.)
Hi Project,
reading the forum is nice, there are many positive things, many stories that end well, however, in real life, there are also stories that I won't say end badly, but simply end, because all the things in this world end, and those stories are the ones the forum doesn't talk about. It's true that they wouldn't be positive pushes to face life, because a bit of enthusiasm is needed, but stories, that is, many stories, generally don't last. It's no one's fault, you simply realize that the story is over and you part ways, or rather, you don't even part ways, because in theory everything is as before, but you realize that the pauses become very long, that the conversations become circumstantial conversations and that in practice it makes no sense to try to keep up something that no longer exists, that perhaps existed but no longer exists. Just the memory remains, that is, only the memory, not the hypothesis that there could be a recovery, that is, that the relationship could rise again from its ashes, the hypothesis of a recovery of the relationship doesn’t exist at all. This is exactly what is happening to me. I am 36 years old, he is 34, we have a good history behind us since we were both in our early twenties, a mutual respect that is still there, because mutual respect disappears when your partner double-crosses you, or treats you badly, or behaves in a reprehensible way, which he has never done. I really have nothing to reproach him for, but this does not change the fact that I now feel him to be a foreign presence, not disturbing, not unpleasant, simply a foreign presence, which is no longer part of my private dimension. At the beginning the situation is strange, you don't expect it, also because the years spent together have been many, then you evaluate the situation, you feel an objective detachment, not only his but also yours. You no longer feel that very strong urge to see him that was there before, his figure no longer dominates your imagination, he slowly becomes a presence among the others, which week after week becomes more and more evanescent. You know that he has another world that is now the center of his thoughts, that is, to tell the truth, you don't even know it, but you imagine it, you try to see things in that way to detach him even more from your horizon, then maybe he's also just like a beaten dog licking his wounds, but even if that were the case, in the end he doesn't look for you, because he too takes it for granted that you have who knows what other alternative life, and so everyone tries to rationalize the separation, saying that anyway there's nothing to be done, it's all over now because the other has made his choice and gone his own way. But justifications or afterthoughts aside, what we are left with is the feeling of emptiness, of frustration, of impotence, you see time passing and him going away carried by time that passes, and you don't go looking for him , because you foresee, or in any case know that any attempt would be useless. It is a form of euthanasia of an emotional relationship, we give up treatment and propose to turn the page and start over! As if such a thing were possible! But how do you turn the page? There are difficulties, it is clear, because certain possibilities only come once in a lifetime, thinking that they can happen again is not fantasy but madness. And any story, assuming there could be any, would still have an obligatory point of comparison capable of devaluing it. Because what has been lost is always better than what exists and then he was truly there in my life, it was not a hypothesis. This is perhaps the most difficult aspect of the whole affair to accept, I don't have to put aside a story that was unpleasant for me, no! I have to put aside true things that were not at all indifferent to either him or me, in the end I will have to do it. When we broke up, or rather when we understood that a subsequent meeting would now be very unlikely, we made a promise, which seems absurd for two people breaking up. We promised to answer each other anyway, to hear each other anyway, even if only one of us felt the need to hear the other. At the moment, he didn't feel this need, he didn't show up again. I'm not 100% sure he won't show up again. I'd like him to get back to me. I told myself that I could call him, but I have the terrible fear of hearing a cold response that is not just a goodbye, but a "get out of my way!" He has never used these tones, and he probably wouldn't do it now either, but if it all ended in a polite ten minute conversation, well, what would be the point? I haven't heard from him for several days, I don't know what to hope for, perhaps it would be better to forget the past. Pasolini said that only living, only loving counts, not having lived, not having loved, however, having lived is still not indifferent. Leaving someone you can't stand is easy, leaving someone you loved and who loved you is not easy at all. Self-consolation reasoning isn't much use, it's like condolences after the death of a loved one. I feel just like a widower who is grieving after losing his life partner. Time will pass and everything will become more vague and indistinct, but now the memory is still close, I still have his image before my eyes, I remember the sound of his voice, I have kept all the chats with him, even the most banal ones, I keep them aside like a relic. Sometimes I feel completely stupid, I think I should finally get it into my head that our story is over, but I would at least like to know something about him, I would like to know if he's okay, because I'm not so sure that he's really better without me. I wonder how it is possible that everything has vanished and that he has completely removed the memories of our time together. I can't accept the idea that it all ended in ashes, I would at least like to have the certainty that he is better off without me, this would make me feel better. I feel totally incoherent, as if I were carried by waves of melancholy alternating with waves of detachment, I oscillate between opposite extremes, I have neither the courage nor the strength to decide and I do nothing, I spend the afternoons (luckily in the morning there is work) thrown into an armchair to fight with melancholy. Enough! I go to do the washing, I don't have to think too much and I also feel like someone who makes useless dramas, because what happens to me happens to a lot of people and there's nothing tragic or shocking about it. This is also a consolatory speech!
reading the forum is nice, there are many positive things, many stories that end well, however, in real life, there are also stories that I won't say end badly, but simply end, because all the things in this world end, and those stories are the ones the forum doesn't talk about. It's true that they wouldn't be positive pushes to face life, because a bit of enthusiasm is needed, but stories, that is, many stories, generally don't last. It's no one's fault, you simply realize that the story is over and you part ways, or rather, you don't even part ways, because in theory everything is as before, but you realize that the pauses become very long, that the conversations become circumstantial conversations and that in practice it makes no sense to try to keep up something that no longer exists, that perhaps existed but no longer exists. Just the memory remains, that is, only the memory, not the hypothesis that there could be a recovery, that is, that the relationship could rise again from its ashes, the hypothesis of a recovery of the relationship doesn’t exist at all. This is exactly what is happening to me. I am 36 years old, he is 34, we have a good history behind us since we were both in our early twenties, a mutual respect that is still there, because mutual respect disappears when your partner double-crosses you, or treats you badly, or behaves in a reprehensible way, which he has never done. I really have nothing to reproach him for, but this does not change the fact that I now feel him to be a foreign presence, not disturbing, not unpleasant, simply a foreign presence, which is no longer part of my private dimension. At the beginning the situation is strange, you don't expect it, also because the years spent together have been many, then you evaluate the situation, you feel an objective detachment, not only his but also yours. You no longer feel that very strong urge to see him that was there before, his figure no longer dominates your imagination, he slowly becomes a presence among the others, which week after week becomes more and more evanescent. You know that he has another world that is now the center of his thoughts, that is, to tell the truth, you don't even know it, but you imagine it, you try to see things in that way to detach him even more from your horizon, then maybe he's also just like a beaten dog licking his wounds, but even if that were the case, in the end he doesn't look for you, because he too takes it for granted that you have who knows what other alternative life, and so everyone tries to rationalize the separation, saying that anyway there's nothing to be done, it's all over now because the other has made his choice and gone his own way. But justifications or afterthoughts aside, what we are left with is the feeling of emptiness, of frustration, of impotence, you see time passing and him going away carried by time that passes, and you don't go looking for him , because you foresee, or in any case know that any attempt would be useless. It is a form of euthanasia of an emotional relationship, we give up treatment and propose to turn the page and start over! As if such a thing were possible! But how do you turn the page? There are difficulties, it is clear, because certain possibilities only come once in a lifetime, thinking that they can happen again is not fantasy but madness. And any story, assuming there could be any, would still have an obligatory point of comparison capable of devaluing it. Because what has been lost is always better than what exists and then he was truly there in my life, it was not a hypothesis. This is perhaps the most difficult aspect of the whole affair to accept, I don't have to put aside a story that was unpleasant for me, no! I have to put aside true things that were not at all indifferent to either him or me, in the end I will have to do it. When we broke up, or rather when we understood that a subsequent meeting would now be very unlikely, we made a promise, which seems absurd for two people breaking up. We promised to answer each other anyway, to hear each other anyway, even if only one of us felt the need to hear the other. At the moment, he didn't feel this need, he didn't show up again. I'm not 100% sure he won't show up again. I'd like him to get back to me. I told myself that I could call him, but I have the terrible fear of hearing a cold response that is not just a goodbye, but a "get out of my way!" He has never used these tones, and he probably wouldn't do it now either, but if it all ended in a polite ten minute conversation, well, what would be the point? I haven't heard from him for several days, I don't know what to hope for, perhaps it would be better to forget the past. Pasolini said that only living, only loving counts, not having lived, not having loved, however, having lived is still not indifferent. Leaving someone you can't stand is easy, leaving someone you loved and who loved you is not easy at all. Self-consolation reasoning isn't much use, it's like condolences after the death of a loved one. I feel just like a widower who is grieving after losing his life partner. Time will pass and everything will become more vague and indistinct, but now the memory is still close, I still have his image before my eyes, I remember the sound of his voice, I have kept all the chats with him, even the most banal ones, I keep them aside like a relic. Sometimes I feel completely stupid, I think I should finally get it into my head that our story is over, but I would at least like to know something about him, I would like to know if he's okay, because I'm not so sure that he's really better without me. I wonder how it is possible that everything has vanished and that he has completely removed the memories of our time together. I can't accept the idea that it all ended in ashes, I would at least like to have the certainty that he is better off without me, this would make me feel better. I feel totally incoherent, as if I were carried by waves of melancholy alternating with waves of detachment, I oscillate between opposite extremes, I have neither the courage nor the strength to decide and I do nothing, I spend the afternoons (luckily in the morning there is work) thrown into an armchair to fight with melancholy. Enough! I go to do the washing, I don't have to think too much and I also feel like someone who makes useless dramas, because what happens to me happens to a lot of people and there's nothing tragic or shocking about it. This is also a consolatory speech!