Things Often Happen for a Reason

I believe that a lot of things happen in life for a reason. Actually, sometimes I believe that; sometimes I pretend to believe that after I had done stupid things.

This leads to the story of my first "long-term" boyfriend. I met him through one of the online dating websites. He lived about 9 hours driving from me. He was a very good-looking man in his profile photo. In person, he was not as good-looking but not bad. He was 6 ft, 175lbs, had psoriasis. He was not comfortable about his psoriasis, but I was.

Psoriasis wasn't something I had to overlook. I didn't see that as one of the negative criteria in getting to know him and loving him. Yet, there were other things that I tried to overlook. Anyway, he was planning on transferring to my city to get to know me. However, he changed his plan and moved to the Virgin Islands for a job that might have furthered his career. I promised to wait for him for two years. He promised to visit me every three months (He didn't).

For the whole two years, I could rarely contact him whenever I wanted to. His phone was usually either off or not answered. His voice mail was pretty much all the time full. He had many excuses. The only time we talked was every night when he got off work, which was between midnight and 1 a.m. So, I waited every night for him so he could unload his burden on me. The conversations were usually about the bad things that happened at his work. On his off days, it was as difficult to contact him.

Even though he always said he loved me, his action didn't show it. I was not convinced. I tried to break up with him a couple of times, but he begged me not to, very earnestly. On one hand, I was very frustrated. On the other, I felt bad that he had to work and live in harsh conditions overseas. All I needed was being able to feel that he loved me. That was enough for me to wait for him, even for more than two years.

At the end of the two years, he got laid off and moved back to the Northeast. That was the last draw for me. I didn't have to feel sorry for him any more. I wasn't afraid that he was lonely any more. I cut off the relationship.

He, to this date, still claims that he loved me very much though admitted he should have put more effort. We are at peace with each other now. But I don't love him. I am not sure if the love I gave him was out of love for another human being or the love for who he really was.

I still care for him as a friend. I don't regret the two years I waited for him. I think of this period as the time my ankle was chained up just to be released in time to meet Jim, whose love for me I don't have to question (though he's often MEAN to me).

Things often happen for a reason. Some things that seem bad at the time might have been good things for the future.