8th February, 2009
Question
I met the man of my dreams on an online dating website this time last year. We had an amazing year. We probably did have too many fights, but we considered ourselves strong and always made it through. And then recently we broke up.
I put everything I could into the relationship. We live quite a distance apart, and I did do almost all the travelling. But my workplace lies somewhere between our two homes, and I so wanted the relationship to work that I just did the travelling and didn't think much about it.
The first major row we had was when he told me he was going to renovate a large old house with his parents, in which they would have a granny flat. I felt very left out and wondered if he really envisioned us together long-term. I asked him how he could make such a huge decision without consulting me. He got angry, called me selfish, and broke it off with me. I guess I fought to keep him and we got back together.
I thought we were doing OK despite the ups and downs until a few weeks ago. He read my diary, saw I'd said a few critical things about him, and started a fight. I was hurt he'd read my diary, but tried to point out that the criticisms were tiny compared to all the positive things I'd listed in his favour. I felt terrible about hurting him, which was never my intention. But he maintained his focus on the negative and we split up.
I had an instinct he'd been back on the dating website where me met, looked it up, and found him. I couldn't believe it. I contacted the girls he had made 'friends' with, and they confirmed it was him. He'd been at it for the past six months. From what I could gather, he hadn't actually met any of these new contacts. But obviously I don't feel I could ever trust him again.
The terrible thing is that even when we broke up I still wanted him back. And hoped we could make it. Now I'm devastated. I've lost him for good. He kept telling me I wouldn't accept his love. But I did. I was so happy to be with him. I did always wonder if he was still carrying a torch for his ex-girlfriend. I often asked him, even though I knew he didn't like the questioning. I just wanted to be convinced, and he never sounded convincing. In one row he even said I was right, that he did, indeed, still have feelings for his ex, but later withdrew that comment.
I don't know what to think. I loved this guy so much and I thought he was my soul-mate. I can't see where it went wrong. Help.
Answer
Being hugely enthusiastic often means missing that others aren't. You were riding high, delighted to have found your dream, and he wasn't even crawling. Somewhat mixing my metaphors, you were like two people on a tandem bike, him at the back freewheeling while you furiously peddled on, not heeding the load.
Oh no, I'm not criticising you. I've carried thousands of passengers in my time - not all lovers I hasten to add - and know only too well how easy it is to let enthusiasm blind you. Without thinking, you pick up the slack. Living quite far apart? No bother, you'll do all the travelling. You're quite right. The fact that your work-place was somewhere in-between is only a rationalisation, tacked on much later. You were happy to hit the road, never thinking to count the cost. I know.
You see what happens. Our enthusiasm can mask lukewarm commitment coming from the other side. If your boyfriend had to burn up the miles, how long would he have kept it up? You don't know. That's partially because enthusiasm also engenders passivity. People are quite happy to surf on your energy. And then they ditch all personal initiative. It's as though we paralyse them. I suppose the wise person would then stop, and wait. The enthusiast just keeps on going, plugging all the gaps.
To a certain extent, it can be a question of emotional speed. You get there long before the other person. That means he never has the time to think through how he feels - or even to discover how he feels. Love doesn't always come on a platter. It sometimes emerges tentatively and slow. Fired with enthusiasm, you're focussed. So you're intellectually ahead too. You know what you want - be it marriage, money, that trip to Thailand, the house on the hill, the perfect party.
Therapists these days are quick to diagnose addictive behaviour. I see their point, but I'm not so sure. What is the dividing line anyway, between the demands of passion and desperation? And I'm not just talking sexual passion here. If you want something really badly, is that always a sign of personal inadequacy? I think not.
You want to know where it went wrong. That implies the relationship should have worked. But should it? Isn't it more likely that you kept on going long past the sell-by date, only you didn't cop it, for all the reasons we've talked about? Could you have done it differently? Certainly, by allowing him to share the cost, emotionally and physically, of your togetherness, the travelling only a case in point. Would you have wanted to do it differently? I'm not so sure. People talk about us wasting our time. Perhaps. The point is we don't know that until some venture fails.
My advice? The important thing is to take responsibility for what went wrong. That doesn't entail beating yourself up. It does mean understanding that you could have done it differently. You're not a victim. You can learn the lessons from this experience. Or remain unrepentant, and dazzle the next guy who comes along, hopefully with a better outcome.
