*”LOVED OUT, HURT OUT…”*
*”Didnt they tell you as a child that you cant build happiness on someone elses misery?”* Emily gave me a faintly reproachful look.
*”They did. Read about it in books, too. But as a child, I never needed to. Back then, you dont really get it, do you? Whats happiness? Whats misery? And how can you build this vague thing called happiness on someone elses suffering? Kids dream of other thingsmore sweets, more ice cream. Catching the latest cartoons, not missing a trip to the cinema…*
*Truth be told, all my aunts and uncles were on their second or third marriages… Where was I supposed to learn morality from?”*
…Emily was my friend, always proper and incorruptible. She never judged meinstead, shed happily listen (over a glass of wine) to my tangled tales of love.
She couldnt afford such liberties herself. After all, she was a lecturer at the university. Her position demanded she uphold every ounce of decorum.
Her own marriage was stable, unshakable. In their youth, her husband had often been in the clutches of Bacchusdrunk, rowdy, on the edge of infidelity.
Shed had him coded for good. Her Dave would grumble at dinner parties*”A mans got to unwind somehow!”*to which Emily would calmly reply:
*”Dave, if you cant behave in company, dont bother trying.”*
Dave would fall quiet. Over time, he learned to take pride in his rolepouring drinks, monitoring consumption, dutifully offering snacks. Sometimes Emily took him to Spain or Portugal. But even there, hed misbehave.
*”Can you believe it?”* she fumed after Barcelona. *”While I was swimming, that mutt was flirting with some… quick little thing at the bar. All smiles, cocktails, eyes begging for a husband. Oh, I thought, just wait till were back in the roomIll show you whats what! Youll get an earful!”*
*”Bet Dave denied everything?”* I smirked.
*”Hah! Said I had too much imagination,”* Emily scoffed.
*”And you?”*
*”Oh, let him dream. Wheres he going to go? Whod want him on his pitiful salary? Even if some lonely widow rescued him, shed toss him out in a month. All hes got is that twinkle in his eyenothing else to offer.”* She soothed herself with her own words.
…When James appeared in my married life, something ached in me, something uneasy. He was married, raising two sons. I fought the flood of feeling as hard as I could. But it crashed down like an avalanche. This was love that tore you apart.
Conscience and reason whispered in my ear:
*”Stop! Dont grab the hot iron. Nothing good comes of this slippery scheme. You have your own family. What do you want with a married man? Youll regret it. Youll weep bloody tears.”*
But I charged ahead, reckless. I couldnt last a day without James. He was my whole world. We drowned in each other. Love held a knife to our throatsno escape…
And then, all barriers broke.
We were left alone with our ruinous passion. And so began the endless loop.
Six months in, we had nothing in common. But we swore our love still lived, still breathed. I resuscitated it so many times.
James drank without end, lied shamelessly, even raised his hand to me. We were from different worlds. Id kick him out, take the keys, block his number, freeze him out. Hed vanish for weeks, then return with flowers and burning desire.
I took him backbecause I loved him painfully, couldnt erase him. But I should have. He drained me, hollowed me out, crushed me underfoot until I threw myself into new, desperate arms. I wanted revenge, to wound him as hed wounded me. Why should I suffer alone?
Then, once again, James *”disappeared over the horizon.”* Another fight, another *”final”* goodbye. I called an old admirer. Some women keep a spare tucked away…
William was James oppositecalm, polite, a teetotaler who didnt smoke. At first, I liked him. But within a month, he bored me stiffflat, lifeless. No fire, just a straight line. I still craved the rollercoaster. Later, I regretted letting William in. Not my type. He kept calling, reminding me he existed. Finally, he got the message: rejection, full stop.
Alone at last. I savored the freedom, breathed easy. Wanted no one, exhausted by lifes merry-go-round. A month passed in proud solitude.
…Then James asked to meet. I ran, stumbling. Still loved him wildly, still hoped.
*”Claire, lets end this. Well destroy each other. This heats unbearable,”* he said, avoiding my eyes.
*”Fine. Youre right, James. We cant live together. Always on a knifes edge.”* My heart collapsed, but I held firm.
We walked away. For three days… Then a knock. James stood therechampagne, flowers, fire in his gaze.
…The night burned; our bodies tangled. We fell into the sky, choked on love.
I knew morning would bring nothing good. That night was too perfect, too slick, too much…
Turned out, all my past torment was just the warm-up. James confessed: he owed serious money to serious people. A gambling debt. Pay up, or else.
It took ages, but we settled itsold his flat, his car… And after that, my passion for James withered fast. That debt was the last straw.
…Now? Total indifference. We live as friends, distant relatives. We talk, laugh, sleep under separate blankets. Drifting through life. Nothing warms me. I drained the bitter cup dry. Happiness never got built.
Loved out, hurt out…
