Losing love is like a window in your heart; everybody sees you’re blown apart.

So. It’s been about a week and a half now since my last visit ever with the therapist I had been seeing for almost 3 and a half years. It was the end of the longest relationship I’ve had with anyone; MFP and I were together just over a year, and I’m pretty sure that I met The Rabbit shortly after I got started seeing that therapist.

She passed along the number of a group of therapists in the area, a group she had nothing but praise for. I’m still in the process of back-and-forth phone tag and trying to get set up with a first appointment, although I’ve already done the preliminary “intake” stuff. As rocky as this has been, it’s unquestionably better than starting from scratch with no leads — I’ve been there before, and when I was in bad shape. Not an “adventure” I care to revisit.

During our last session she said, “I have been forever changed by knowing you, and my life will continue to be impacted by the time we have spent together.” It was beautiful to hear her make it as clear as she possibly could that she gained as much from our relationship as I did. She pointed out that in our sessions, I had “constantly brought nothing but raw honesty,” and told me how much she appreciated that. “It’s all I have ever asked,” she said, “and you have done exactly that.” We both said how much we would miss each other… and I really do miss her. She’s been one of the very few people — if not perhaps the only person who has been a consistent, reliable, rock; someone I could depend on when very little else in my life has been certain. In reply to the worry I expressed about losing that certainty, that foundation, she had this to say:

“You deserve people in your life who are dependable, reliable, honest. I hope you know how much good you deserve. And it will come, in time.”

I asked her if I could have a hug before I left, to which she enthusiastically agreed. It was a startling realization, that I hadn’t thought about the fact we’d never touched in the years we’d known each other, not even a handshake. Even more startling was the effort it took to hold back from kissing her full on the lips afterwards.  I mean, I had never denied to myself that I found her incredibly attractive, and I had made a point quite some time back to tone down what I recognized as my frequent compliments bordering on flirtation… but it was still a bit of a shock just how much of an instinctive reaction it was.

Of course, that may have at least as much to do with the fact that I’m still not getting laid, with only a few mediocre interactions every few months or more — and plenty of times that other women show interest but never follow up, never get in touch. I’m lonely. And I wonder if that shows, if it’s something so obvious to those around me, like a window in my heart — the clear view right through to love lost.

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