I'd been debating with myself whether or not the next bit should be included, but if I'm being open and honest about how things went down, then I should come clean. I consider the greatest blemish upon my soul, my very character, the fact that I cheated on Silvia - and I did it multiple times. She found out, eventually, yes. But she ever only knew about a couple of the incidents. There were a bunch more she never knew. I know that our paths will likely never cross again, and the likelihood of her reading these words is very, very small, so I acknowledge the bravery of owning up to bad behaviour from a distance.
The first time I cheated on her, we'd have been going out for not a month yet, and an ex-girlfriend of mine said she had a birthday present she wanted to give me, and by this she meant herself and me doing the horizontal tango. And as much as I want to excuse myself with the fact that it was at the time in our relationship where I just didn't see us lasting, and Silvia's wieird idiosyncrasies proving to be almost for much for me to bear, It's all bullshit. I did it because I was weak, I did it because sex with Susan was pretty damn great and sex with Silvia was still very far from where it'd be, I did because that god-damned temptation got the better of me.
Now, this part I just told, as well yesterday's post, serve well to illustrate just how much I positioned myself for our relationship to fail. And believe me - she was no saint either. She also had her trysts, and though they hurt when I found out about them, I always forgave her. I went so far as tracking down online one of the guys she had been with, and I told him that I hoped that he would take good care of her. But Silvia... she really did love me. She didn't say it, she really didn't show it in a flashy way - no that that's necessary - but she loved me, and she chose me. And we sort of broke up for a while in 2007, maybe for a couple of months, though we did keep in semi-regular touch. In the meantime she told me that she was planning on going to the Netherlands. There was no underlying invitation for me to go with her, but rather the unsaid statement that being around me and not having me in her life hurt her too much. That me not giving her what she so desperately craved from me was killing her.
Weird as this may seem, it brought us together again. We started going out again, and I started sleeping at her place again, everything went back to normal - except that now she was leaving. Now time was running out for us. We had one last perfect night together, with the ecstasy of sex and the pain of separation tearing us apart. The cruel morning arrived far too soon, and as we were saying goodbye in the airport, she said she loved me, for the second time - but this one was real feeling. And I wanted so badly to tell her not to go. To stay. To stay with me. I wanted to her so much that I loved her. And yet... and yet I did not. I could not.
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