Oh, what I wish I had said.
I’m not attracted to you anymore.
I want a young nubile body.
This from a man I loved dearly and had committed myself to for 19 years.
At the time, sitting there on the beach, peering across the deep ocean, I felt something drop away and sensed finality.
I asked a single question. I wanted to be clear. You are breaking up with me because you don’t find me attractive?
He nodded. Carefully. Like it pained him.
And I walked away.
After all the love and conversations and compromise and confusion and deception and counseling and apologies and sharing and familiarity and laughter and tears and asset building and asset splitting and accepting faults and rebuilding trust and promises, I left.
I wish I could rewrite that moment.
For a long time I fantasized about all the ways I could have told him off right there, put him in his place, demand that he take responsibility for what he was doing, stop blaming the end of a relationship on my looks.
If I could put myself right back in that situation again, if somehow I had the magic to do so, what I’d do is grab his hand, gently laugh and very kindly say, “babe, if you can’t see how much I love you or you think I’m unattractive, you are looking at me with the wrong eyes.”
The end of our story might have been exactly the same, but he would have known he was loved and I would have gracefully held onto my own value.
Life gives us opportunities to show up. Both in hardship and victory.
Life gives us opportunities to practice our generosity.
To find and share the best of ourselves.
To be a spirit that unites.
To be kinder.
To reach out rather than walk away.