By the time we arrived in India, the months of worrying about when I’d be tossed out had worn on me. I felt a break up was inevitable and out of my hands. But a life line appeared to be waiting, a good job close to home, the tenant leaving in tandem. I couldn’t help but think a higher power was looking out and illuminating the right path, even if I was reluctant to take it. At the same time, slowly but surely, I was coming to terms with my own personal truth. I couldn’t remain in a relationship with so many rules that only applied to me, no matter how good the life was. The extreme imbalance of power left me feeling like I was walking on a pane of glass 10K feet in the sky. The view was out of this world but one wrong step and I’d come shooting down to earth at rocket speed. I longed for a sense of stability, but there was none to be given.
Regardless of his proclamations of love, I knew he was more than capable of heartlessly ending things because of a few wrong words during a fight or because I got mad at him for something shitty he’d done. It didn’t matter that the tables were turned so many many times (except for the part where I’d done something shitty, usually I hadn’t done much of anything at all) but I would prove immensely more tolerant. In his universe, I was also expected to be immensely more truthful, faithful, patient, compassionate, flexible, supportive, trusting etc. There would never be compromise or some resemblance of equality. I would always pay harshly for my petty crimes while he got away with murder because as he put it he had “saved lives”. That’s how it was (and had always been for him) and it would never change. It wasn’t the magically fairy tale relationship I had been sold. Once the awe wears off I can’t imagine anyone possibly being happy under those terms. Melania Trump comes to mind. Does she seem happy to you?
