Updated: May 16
Do you remember the film, The Best Man (1999)? Taye Diggs’ character, “Harper Stewart” was writing a memoir recalling past experiences and sticky situations from his college days. In any case, there was drama, skeletons let out of the closet, and a little bit of petty all wrapped up in a cliché romantic comedy (I can’t front though, it’s one of my favorites).
I bring this up, because my ex was reading my recent blog about him, and joked that my blog was the real Unfinished Business (because although I don’t use real names, those who are intimately acquainted with us know the deal, and exactly to whom I refer). Since I aired his dirty laundry (while he reminded me that I have quite a bit of my own — I am working up to sharing this truth), The Best Man analogy was kind of cute.
But, being the over-thinker that I am, the idea of unfinished business was a major trigger, and I can’t shake how it’s making me feel.
If you are a faithful reader, you recall the saga with my ex — over 3 years ago, finding out that he had a baby (and a whole new reality) outside of our relationship, in a different state.
Would you believe that this drama was uncovered in October of 2013 — it’s now November of 2016, and he has yet to face me. He has still yet to look me in my eyes, feel my energy and spirit, and own the mess he created. Talking on the phone is easy. When things get uncomfortable or messy, you can end the conversation. That’s a bit more difficult to do when you’re standing in the presence of someone you’ve wronged.
We were together for five years, and he has allowed three years of heartache to torment me without giving me the respect of a face-to-face meeting. Or an apology while being forced to watch my tears — or the look of utter disappointment and heartbreak on my face. Or, just a hug. Something palpable.
Meanwhile, he has begun a new life (while appearing to posture in the presence of white mediocrity, something that calls into question all that he purports to stand for — a completely different topic) while my life and health unraveled. Literally.
What we had was good while it lasted, and as hard as I’ve tried (to the dismay of many of my friends), I can’t hate him. I have tried my hardest to maintain a friendship with him — swallowing my pride and holding back tears as I hear his son (with our name) talking to him in the background. Editing projects for him. Being reminded (he doesn’t remind me — my mind wanders — I ruminate on shit like that) of trips I took out of town to see him perform, still in the dark about his betrayal (as I slept alone in a hotel room). Being his biggest fan as I witness him accomplishing things he’s been working toward for years. Floating from one meaningless, destructive, casual relationship to the next because my heart is too raw to really feel. Trying to navigate alone in a world that once felt so complete with him in it.
But I suppose that at this point in time, nothing more needs to be said. I’ve said and done things that I am not proud of, in futile ways, to try and make his life as miserable as I was. That said, it hurts my heart and soul to believe that he is content living his life while he has loose ends — unfinished business to attend to.
Is it asking too much to expect the proper ending that honors and respects the relationship that we once shared? But, here’s the thing: you reap what you sow. There comes a proverbial and elusive day of reckoning for us all.
“Everything and everybody got to stand in the light.” – Aunt Ester (“Gem of the Ocean” by August Wilson)