Left out in the cold, in the midst of a heatwave.
“You played it cool for so long, I almost gave up on you” he said.
But when I turned up the heat, he froze over anyway.
With an ice-pack on my head and my heart, I am injured.
These days, I exist on anti-inflammatories, anti-depressants and sleeping pills.
Thanks to him, I now realise that relationships are all about temperate expectations.
For him, I’d never acclimatise.
According to him:
I should be cool, chill; but never icy.
I should be warm and inviting; but never suffocating.
I should be always be hot; leaving scratches down his back for him to show off to his friends.
And I should always readily accept half-baked, luke-warm apologies.
Playing it cool.
What a phrase, what a fallacy.
That’s me, the ice-queen right? Just so aloof.
But really, the operative word there is playing.
I didn’t want to let him in.
I created the persona of ‘cool girl’ so he wouldn’t be scared off by the real, wildfire.
Turns out it was me that suffered the burn.
A smart girl in the beginning, I kept my defences up.
I wanted a warm, enduring love. But for him, that wasn’t enough.
He said he wanted me, and he wanted it all.
So I let down my heat-guard. I finally let him in.
And for what it’s worth, I met all of the above, bullshit expectations.
I could not have done more to meet his needs. Could not have climbed higher.
Cool, chill with his friends; regardless of how aloof they were to me.
Warm, inviting with his family; baking cookies, washing dishes, and always giving him the space and spotlight to shine.
Hot, and memorable in bed; outrageous stories to spread at Buck’s parties. An inferno, “the best he’d ever had.”
Forgiving and complacent after arguments; no matter how many times he vomited all over me – both literally and with words.
I loved him at his absolute worst, meanest, most awful.
I wasn’t granted the same grace.
We forged a real love in our crazy kiln of circumstance.
I thought we would blaze forever. I didn’t want it to end in flames.
But when it got too hot to handle, he ran out of my heart like escaping a house-fire.
When he left, I was nothing but smouldering ash.
I was given no real reason. His tepid explanation:
“I’m just not willing to adapt my lifestyle to your needs.
Honestly, I just never saw this as long-term.”
So today, I am frozen.
I am brittle like ice.
I cannot stand any warmth provided, lest I thaw and tears melt down my face.
I can’t have that. I can’t let anyone in anymore.
It burns too much.
But even as a ‘cool girl’, I will never be cold-hearted.