When I met Steve, he was an alcoholic, living with a girl he said he didn't love, having a life going out with his mates, and being looked after by a woman who didn't challenge him or bother him because if she did he'd just leave. He two-timed her because he could, with women he cared for only marginally more than he did her.
Then he met me. He fell in love, and it was hard, because I demanded things from him, like consideration, and that he stop drinking Special Brew. His mum died, and he went off the rails, but together we got him back on track. His friends were growing up at the same time, and he was faced with the prospect of having an adult relationship, and living an adult life, something he's never had to face before.
The little boy inside, who had never been properly parented, panicked. When he went to live away, he saw an opportunity for a 'new' life that he had always wanted. He had found a place where he could take heroin and drink Special Brew. He could have a girl he liked, have a life going out with his mates, and being with a girl who wouldn't challenge him or bother him, because she is young and if she did he could always live without her, so long as his mates were around.
The familiar always feels right, even when it isn't.
I love him and I always will. He is the love of my life, and I suspect I am the love of his life too. But I don't want him back. I have zero tolerance for betrayal.
But I can't help feeling we are meant to be together. Maybe in 40 years, if he's ready to grow up.
