A decade and a half has passed, and we’ve both moved on. I’ve lost most of my hair and you’ve gained a bunch of weight. You remarried and I stayed married.
It was mistake from the get-go: Me a married man with four little kids, you a coworker and ending a busted relationship.
All the elements of a gigantic mistake yet we let it fester.
I told you I loved you, and I guess I did. You said the same, and I guess you did. We pretended we had some kind of future, with hand holding and secret lunches.
But I wasn’t willing to upend my life, and you weren’t willing to wait.
For sure you did some damage to me. My marriage suffered and so did my professional career, but not so much I haven’t recovered. I had it coming and have paid a price, but that punishment is over with. It never occurred to me that maybe I did some damage to you also.
One thing you said still lingers, 15 years later.
During the last battle, during the last ugly fight, you asked me “Did you ever think about my feelings?”
When I was unbuttoning your shirt and kissing your neck and calling you every night. When I spoke of getaways or birthdays or special events or how much I missed you. I enjoyed all that, and thought you did too.
But-“’Did you ever think about my feelings?’”
The answer is, no, I didn’t. And I still don’t.