Things have been challenging between The Voyeur and me for the past three weeks. First, the declaration of love (mine) delivered via blog, next the distress and confusion (his), then the relative calm and distinct awkwardness that resulted from our failure to reach a resolution.
In my impatience to find the elusive tidy solution that would allow us to stay friends in a way that remotely resembled how it used to be, I’ve been pouring my heart out to him, vainly trying to spur him to talk to me. For the most part, though, my attempts have been met with curt responses, avoidance, or deflection. In a moment of frustration, I told him, “It feels like you’re mourning our friendship while it’s still here. And that makes me sad. Because I feel responsible.” To clarify, I don’t feel responsible for his feelings, but I do recognize that my actions served as a catalyst for his response.
We’re still friends, and even though I feel like we could work our way back to our old dynamic, The Voyeur has stated unequivocally that he sees it differently. And rather than fight to convince him to adopt my perspective, I’m feeling resigned to accept the new dynamic, albeit with sorrow and disappointment. I’ve been at the table, ready to hash this out, but he doesn’t see the point. I can’t force a resolution here, even though I desperately want to. Instead, I’m joining him in mourning the old us and wondering what the new us will look like.
Even in my disappointment, I don’t judge him for his response. He, just like me, just like all of us, is the product of his experiences and choices. His story is still being written, too, and my hope for him has always been that it involves healing and leads him toward happiness.