The Hardest Relationship I Ever Had Was the One I Didn’t
By: Robin Dakota
Tags: Self Improvement, Life Lessons, Relationships, Life, Love

The Hardest Relationship I Ever Had Was the One I Didn’t

I had to grieve what I technically never lost

It began last August. I had just arrived at the train station, about to head home to Seattle after a two night conference in Portland, where I had accidentally experienced a connection I was nowhere near ready for.

His name was Lucas*, and though I didn’t know him well, I had known who he was for a couple of years at that point. We had a good friend in common, and through that connection, we followed each other on social media and met briefly a couple of times. When I found out we were both attending the same conference in Portland, me as an attendee for my internship, and he as a filmmaker to create a promotional video, I reached out via Instagram to see if he would like to explore Portland with me off the clock. We were the only college-aged people there, and at 21 years old, I wanted someone my age to go to bars and stay out late with. He said yes, and I forgot about it for a while, until the day we arrived.

My train got in late, but Lucas and his friend Brian* met me in the lobby of our hotel when I arrived. They waited for me to change and then we left to get food. I had researched some restaurants on the way there, and we decided on a Mexican place. When we arrived, they told us they were 21+ only, which Brian was not. We settled on an outdoor picnic table, and Lucas got a beer from a nearby shop. It was a shitshow, and kind of cold outside, but the company was great and I felt fantastic. After Brian headed home, Lucas and I went back to the 21+ Mexican restaurant to eat, drink, and relax.

That night, something shifted in my consciousness. I had never known Lucas well and I certainly had never considered him as anything more than a friend, but while we conversed over drinks, a thought I had never had before ran through my head.

I know this isn’t a date, but if I were to go on a date, this is what I would want it to feel like.

I didn’t realize that thought was telling me something about how I felt towards Lucas, and for some reason, I viewed it as insignificant. Looking back, it was profound, and I should have made the connection that I might have been capable of feeling more for Lucas.

I have always struggled with intimacy.

I have a severe anxiety disorder called Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD). Even after years of therapy and personal progress, I feel the crushing weight of societal stigma, and used to spend a great deal of effort trying to mask my feelings to the outside world — Lucas was no exception.

Most of my triggers are rooted in relationships and connection with other human beings. Intimate connection has always been, to say the least, an incredible struggle. I did not think at that point last August that I was capable of feeling anything romantic for another person — that part of me had been shut down for so long, and I had become comfortable with that. I didn’t think Lucas would be the person to turn something on inside of me that was so severely disconnected. I barely knew him.

I went home that first night thinking more about myself than Lucas. I was so enamored by this new city, gorgeous hotel room (featuring a velvet futon), and the per diems I had to spend. I was blissfully happy that night, looking forward to the conference that would start early the next day, and the plans I had to go out with Lucas afterward.

That second night, we went thrift shopping and then met the other training conference attendees for an Italian dinner out. I had made a ring from pipe cleaners for Lucas, as a joke because he had so many rings on his fingers, and I presented it to him. He thought it was great, and even posted it on his Instagram story. I definitely was happy to have made this connection, I felt like I had found a friend in him that I didn’t anticipate, yet still, for some odd reason, I felt like the friendship had no future.

He lived in New York and I lived in Seattle. I didn’t think we would stay in touch after we left. So, I approached every situation with an impulsivity and recklessness that I imagine only a dying person otherwise would.

I felt like I had nothing to lose, because I had nothing to gain.

We didn’t know each other well enough yet to remain close friends, and the distance would make it hard to continue getting to know each other. I didn’t even consider the possibility of a relationship at that point, either, as I still hadn’t recognized anything I felt as romantic, or extraordinary in any way. I even remember feeling worried that he might want something romantic with me, the thought of which was unsettling at the time.

I thought I was emotionally untouchable, so I gave myself permission to do whatever I wanted to do, believing it would all end the next day. We went to my room first, drinking and talking about whatever came into our minds. I held back a lot of my thoughts to give him space to unload his. I liked that he wanted to unpack his thoughts on me.

Then, we went to a dive bar with a pool table and a karaoke stage. We played rounds of pool with a couple we met out, and I had gotten myself good and drunk on $3 margaritas. I remember one moment that he touched my thigh, and I registered what had happened, and decided that it was actually okay with me. We got on stage and performed karaoke to Old Town Road by Lil Nas X and Billy Ray Cyrus, and I was having, simply put, a fucking fantastic night.

When we left I invited him to my room to watch a movie. I figured that might not be what we would end up doing though. I wanted to see what might happen, and the alcohol added to my curiosity. All I knew was, I was feeling something, and I wanted to figure out what it was — it had been so long since I had felt anything in that realm of emotion. I just wish I had chosen a different way to go about exploring it.

The next morning I realized I had made a mistake.

Our connection was not a mistake, but the way I handled it was. I had failed to recognize the delicate nature of the situation, and now I had no choice but to feel it. Distance was not going to make my feelings shut off in the way I had expected it to. I was stuck now, with what I had created, and had to deal with the consequences of my actions.

It was like opening Pandora’s box, and now that everything was out, I would never get it back inside.

I tried to talk to him about it the next day. It didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I had already begun my unintentional, subconscious ritual of pushing people away when I start to feel too attached to them. I did weird things, I asked weird questions, I cried in the bathroom during breaks at the conference. I wanted to tell him that although I recognized that this relationship would not work, I cared about him. I couldn’t say it though, it got stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to know if he cared back. I wanted to feel nothing again, but that was no longer an option.

When Lucas dropped me off at the train station that night, I thought that would be the end of it. I was mildly upset, mostly with myself, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. When he dropped me off, my heart hurt, thinking this would be it forever. I wasn’t planning on reaching out.

Then I felt my phone ding. I had gotten a text, from Lucas.

Enjoy the train as much as u can! Glad we got to hang out, was fun

HMU if you want to hang before I leave I would be down

I told him I would be down, too. What followed was a mild form of ghosting, where I would get scattered replies, but plans were never solidified. I went back to my life and dealt with all these new feelings in the only way I knew how, by ignoring them. This made everything more painful than it had to be, and it took me about a month before I felt better. Eventually, I did though.

Then, I reached out again, because I was planning a trip to New York to visit a friend from France who had an internship there. I thought it would be fun to reconnect, and that the time might have helped me organize my feelings.

We went out in New York, and I had the same thought as before.

Only this time, I couldn’t tell if it actually was a date. I had recognized that it felt like one, but I still didn’t know what he thought it felt like. I decided to trust my intuition, which told me he liked me, or at least viewed me differently than a regular friend. So, I stayed with him a couple of nights while in the city. I had an incredible time despite the presence of many complicated feelings that I did not fully comprehend. I also tried to push him away in the subtle ways that I didn’t consciously register.

I remember I almost cried when I had to leave. I think this scared him a lot, or at least confused him. It wasn’t so much that he was making me sad, as it was that I was disappointed in myself, and upset with my situation. I didn’t want to leave New York and go home to feel the same way I felt after Portland again. I was mad at myself for making the same choices a second time, even after knowing the emotional consequences. I didn’t want to leave the independence I had in that city, and go back to a family life that was, plainly stated, less than ideal and more than upsetting.

I wanted to know what would have happened if I stayed.

I still want to know. I wonder all the time if the connection I felt was also felt by him, and if it was more circumstantial than anything else that it never got to happen. It was more of a potential than anything else. There was no intense romantic relationship, only what felt like the very beginning stages of one.

Those types of things require time more than anything else, and that was something we never got.

There was no breakup. I don’t know how it would have ended, how it would have played out. It didn’t have a clear end, but our communication dwindled, and I had no choice but to move on with my life. It wasn’t even something I had to consider, there didn’t have to be a big fight or a million little reasons, the distance and timing was enough.

When he visited Seattle a few months later, I saw him a couple of times. Again, I felt something I thought, or hoped, time would have destroyed. Maybe it’s because I experience attachment differently than most people do, but something about this not-knowing made it harder to let go of, and easier to fall back into. I wanted to focus on having a friendship with him, realizing that maybe there was something there worth keeping after all.

The friendship hasn’t developed much since he left Seattle, though, and a part of me will always wonder how this person, who I felt such a unique, strong, and positive connection to, could have slipped in and out of my life so effortlessly. I wonder how he could have experienced the things he had with me, and not have wanted to continue building our friendship. I will always have questions, but the biggest ones are the ones I ask myself now.

What did I learn about myself, and how can I honor my emotional needs better next time?

It sometimes feels pointless to consider what happened, knowing that no amount of thought can change the reality of what occured. Yet, the lessons I took with me were truly invaluable. This experience changed my life, it was profound. I am more emotionally aware, more in touch with how I function in relationships now. I know to recognize that little feeling, that voice in my head telling me something is very right, and to believe it.

I now know not to play with a spark, because it will turn into a fire.

A fire which unmanaged can burn my sense of peace to the ground. I think about what happened between me and Lucas, and while it was painful, I hold no regret. I learned the importance of vulnerability, authenticity, and honesty the hard way. If I had been more open with him, if I had told him the truth about my mental health and how I felt, I still think we might be close friends to this day. I was not self-aware enough to communicate what I couldn’t understand, but now, through months of self-discovery and healing, I have come out with a stronger sense of who I am and what I need from my relationships.

Though now I mourn what I never got the chance to lose, I believe the lessons I learned will someday help me to obtain what I truly want — and keep it, too.

*Names changed to protect privacy.