Of The Monet of Relationship

The famous French painter, Monet, visited the Lourve one day. He saw aspiring artists from all over the world, sitting in front of the masterpieces. 

These aspiring artists were not there to admire the creative process behind each masterpiece.

They were there copying the paintings.

Instead of setting up his workstation next to yet another aspiring artists and started to copy a masterpiece, Monet set up his workstation outside of the Lourve, presumably near a window, and started to paint these artists at work.

Like Monet, I have been sitting outside and looking into other people’s relationship. I learn from what I see, and try to create a masterpiece out of what I observed.

I am the Monet of marital impressionism. The Newton of the Law of Marital Gravity. The Darwin in Marital Evolution. I get quite a number of calls from friends, seeking marriage advice. Friends respected my opinions.

Strangely, how can I have failed mine after thirteen years?

It would be the biggest lie in the century [after Bill Clinton’s I-Did-Not-Have-Sexual-Relationship-With-That-Woman lie] if I say I felt nothing. I was hurt. How could he have left me without any explanation, other than I fell out of love with you because of your past affair?

I was angry because he blamed my past affair. Hadn't I spent the last five years making up for my error?

I packed my bag that night. We slept next to each other. He slept. I cried in bed. When the sun came up in the morning, I knew it was time for me to leave. I cried as I watch it rise. I cried in the shower. I cried when I put on my clothes. I cried when I kissed my cats good bye. I cried when I began my solitary march out from the house.

I cried in the four hour bus ride home, not a minute spared. I cried when Friend From High School and Dude From Work, picked me up from the bus stop. I cried when they settled me into my bed. I cried when Dude From Work passed me the medicine for my headache.

My whole world has come to an end.

What is worse than being left abruptly is the day after, when the realization has sunk in completely. I am suddenly alone. I am no longer part of something, of someone.  I have lost the will to live. I spent the entire morning, staring at the ceiling. Even the walls questioned my resolve.

I picked up my phone. No messages from him. No miss calls.

Doesn’t he miss me?

Should I call him? What the hell is happening? Did I do something wrong?

All day I waited for his call. I checked my phone every few minutes.

But the night came without any news from him. I slipped into slumber, not realizing that I hadn't eaten nor taken a shower.

That is the beginning of my depression.

I am in a place where i feared most. 

I am suddenly single.