That’s the day you say you will decide. He’ll take you to a restaurant I could never afford. He’ll take you back to his house (host likely) that I could never give you. How can I hope to compete with that?
History? Maybe. Our history is full of pain I caused. Realizing too late what I had until it was gone. No, that’s not true. I always knew what I had, and what I was letting go. I was scared to raise kids again. That’s the truth. The haunting thing is, the night you went out with him and this all started, was the night I realized this is what I wanted. Our little blended family. I was going to tell you when you got home that night from your ‘work thing.’ I wish I would have. Instead I heard about you two fucking. Still I should have spoken up. It didn’t mean anything. We had been broken up for a few months.
So now it comes down to Saturday and you will know what you want. I don’t think I stand a chance. Mostly because last night you told me that you had absolutely zero emotional attachment to me anymore. That he made you feel better about yourself than I ever did. So I processed it, went to bed, realized it was really over and started to try and heal and move on.
Then today you texted me in the morning and said you were sorry, that it wasn’t true. That I did make you feel loved. Doubt that fixes the emotional attachment part. Maybe it’s a crack in the armor. You don’t know what you would get with him. The 43 year old boy who’s never been married. Never lived with anyone else. That guy is going to know how to comfort your boys? He’s going to just figure out how to put himself last? Maybe. Maybe he can, and this is your forever, and I was only a tourist in your heart. If so, so be it. I will have to live with that. You don’t know what you will get with him.
But you know what you would get with me. Devotion, love, honor, care, laughter, desire, friendship (God we have a special friendship. You say you want to keep that, but I can’t be around you if you choose him. At least not for a while.), family, adventure. You said I was the safe choice last night. Your boys love me. I love them. The thought of telling them I have to move out hurts me as much as when Jess left me for Ryan and I had to tell my own girls that I couldn’t live there any longer.
L wants me to be his dad. He told me so. It came up on the way to school the other day. I never would tell you this, because I don’t want you to think I am manipulating you. If you choose me, I want it to be because you chose me totally and willingly. But I want to be his dad. I want to be there for all of it. Games, back to school nights, birthday parties, holidays, family things, every gad damn last one I would be there for.
The worst part is, I know if we do have to break his heart – that it won’t be your fault for choosing Chris – it will be my fault for freaking out in the first place.
I never stopped loving you in all this. Ever. Even when you rubbed it in my face to try and hurt me to get over you. That’s why it hurts so much. Because I wasn’t lying a few weeks after I met you that I wanted to marry you. And I’m not lying now when I tell you I want to marry you.
I don’t know how I am ever going to get over you.
I’m going to spend the next two days being normal at the house. Acting like my insides are not on fire. Making it the sanctuary you want it to be. Playing with the boys like nothing is wrong. But I am going to spend Saturday night, in the house by myself, praying that he says something stupid, does something wrong, that you realize that it’s me you want, and begging to hear the door open.
But something tells me when I wake up Sunday morning and see your empty bed when I walk out the door, that I’ll know that I will have to live with the guilt of knowing I destroyed the best 3 things that ever walked into my life.
It’s not going to be easy.
Time will go on, I’ll mend, I may meet a girl or two. I may even get laid a few times.
But I will never let anyone in the way I let you in. Ever again. I will regret being stupid and careless with your heart for the rest of my life. There are no words in this language or any language on the planet, past or present that can express just how truly sorry I am, how amazingly beautiful you are, how much I love you and your kids.
I miss you already and it hurts so badly. So very badly.
I love you, I’ll see you tonight, and do my best to be normal. To walk around like my heart is still beating, when it’s not.
And I’ll get up in the morning, take the boy to school, have him tell me he’s happy that I am going to be his dad, wait until he gets out of the car, try not to cry, head to work, and do it all over again.
But the next day, is Saturday.
And by Sunday, I may never have the chance to do any of that again.
I love you.