It was golden hour, and the sun shone brilliantly through the window—was fucking. I came, and so did she. She looked like an angel to me, a dark silhouette outlined by the blazing sun, and her hair looked like a touseled rainbow.
She was breathing heavily, and we both were. She asked me, will we try and have another kid? I want to try again. I told her no that we weren’t trying the first time to begin with.
She took a deep breath, got up, and put on some clothes. Without saying a word, she left. She was gone for a few days. I knew she had broken up with me.
I didn’t want kids. I had gotten her pregnant—it was an accident, but no matter. I resigned that I would raise a child with her. Loni made me happy, although I had so much unresolved hurt. It was the kind of stuff that made me raw and not a great partner. Still, I was resigned to what lie ahead. A parental redemption arc? That’s how I looked at it, I won’t fuck it up this time.
The chance never came, Loni miscarried. I was devastated when it happened. Truly. I believed that I could do anything with this woman, Loni. But also, and I hate saying this, I was relieved. While resigned to having a child with Loni, I didn’t want one. When confronted with the question, I told her so, and I knew it broke her heart when I told her the truth.
It’s been a long time, over a decade. She’s happily married with beautiful children—she deserves happiness. I don’t regret my time with her, nor do I regret not staying.
I miss who I was when I was with her. It’s hard to put it into words, but with her, I had a purpose; I had someone who understood me in her. I wasn’t ready to receive what she brought to my life, but I tried, and I think that’s just it. I tried, and I rolled with the unknown. But I did try my best to be a good partner to her; for the most part, I think I got it right, but there were also many times I didn’t get it right, where I let fear and insecurity hold court.
Loni, thank you. I’m also sorry about that time at the pub…