I've probably heard the song Cold Cold Heart by Nora Jones 100 times, but it wasn't until this weekend that it meant something to me. Sample lyrics: "Another love before my time made your heart sad and blue. And so my heart is paying now for things I didn't do." I've listened to the song over and over since Sunday afternoon, staring at the lyrics, singing it in the shower. It's my anthem. My heart is paying. I was so wowed by him, I was half in love before I ever realized I had started to fall. I honestly don't think it's that he can't give me what I need from him (respect, affection, communication), but worse, much worse, that he doesn't want to. So, after one last heartbreaking example of his lack of connection, I knew I had to end it. I asked him to call me, explaining it was important. Still nothing, so like Berger's infamous post-it to Carrie Bradshaw, I sent him an email. I regret the method, but not the sentiment. I felt no remorse for hitting "send". I don't want to be with the person he has become. The man he is right now is not the man I was so rapidly falling for. I cried and will continue to mourn for man he was; the man who was sweet and attentive. The man who told me I made him happier than he thought he could be. The man who stroked my hair and kept his eyes open when he kissed me, never wanting to miss my expression, always watching for what pleased me. I won't miss the distant, petulant, so determinedly closed-off man I've been seeing. I won't miss the man who can ignore my laughter and my tears. I'll remember the good. I'll try not to check my email too frequently, looking for the reply I'm sure will never come.
My anthem ends "The more I learn to care for you, the more we drift apart. Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart?" I can't melt his heart. I can't free his mind, but I can free myself. I can be myself. And it's time I got started.