My ex sometimes sends me holiday greetings. Usually it's once or twice a year, but if we have met, he becomes inspired to do that more often. I always invite him to my birthday party but he never shows up. This summer we met in a different event and after that he has regularly asked me how I am, complained how I missed his birthday and wished me happy independence day. Few days ago I got a message where he wished merry Christmas to me. And by me, I mean he called me by my real first name. A name that people uses in official occasions. The name I use at work and at uni because it would be too weird to call me by any of the nicknames my friends have given me. A name that none of my foreign friends can pronounce. A name that my ex has NEVER called me by.
I usually don't mind his messages, though I always feel like he wants something. This time I didn't give him even the usual polite answer. His message underlined how much of strangers we are to each other after these years. And when I say years, I mean it. He almost broke me and I left him. There should really be no reason why either one of us would want to hold on to any kind of relationship. His message rushed all the bad things, small and huge, in my mind: The last night we were together when he finally admitted he couldn't stop drinking and literally chose a can of beer over our relationship. The one night he didn't come home at all and I had to call through our friends to locate him. The times he came home without shoes or the times he passed out on the bathroom floor.
But the memory that kills me the most is from the time we had been together for few years and I was still in gymnasium (or high school if you wish). I got pregnant and I was very nauseous, and we both agreed to get an abortion. I wanted it because I was way too young and still in the middle of growing up myself. He was scared and maybe he didn't trust we'd stay together. First he said he wasn't going to come with me to the hospital because he had an exam coming up. That stung. And even after a decade it still stings. He did end up coming with me, a book in his hand. I threw up at the stairs of the hospital. I threw up the painkillers. It was scary and it would've been scary as hell if he hadn't been there.
Things were never the same between us after that but we still stayed together for four years. I have never really regretted making the decision of getting an abortion. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be now if I hadn't, because I really want kids one day. And every time I think about that, I come to the conclusion that my life would probably be something close to agony and torture. Yes, I would probably have the cutest 10-year-old ever, but I think that might be the only thing making me happy in this dystopia. I might have married my ex, he probably would drink even more, I wouldn't have started uni and I would have destroyed what's left of my wrists working uneducated in manual labour. I imagine a shitty, shitty life. And I'm so unbelievably happy and lucky right now. Even being childless and single, I feel so blessed. This is the better timeline.
So why does he keep sending me messages? What does he want? We all have those people in our lives whose contact seeking efforts makes us uncomfortable. The past lovers or the people we have turned down or the ones who have never got the courage to even ask, but we know they would want to.
We all have those people but we also all are those people. I can name three people from the top of my head who probably sees me that way. It's like you know how things really are, but you can't help yourself. You still dream things were different and even though you know your messages are not been received with open arms, you keep sending them.
I've always known I am one of those people but I never really realised before that I too have those people on my contact list. I think it's a confidence thing. I didn't think I could effect someone in that way. But why not? Why couldn't I make someones socks spin in their feet? I'm pretty cute when I want to and the loud sexuality in my silence must be intriguing for someone.
I get asked the weirdest things because of that loudness. This past month my friends assumed I have had a threesome because apparently I'm that kind of person. I took that as a compliment. Other friend asked me in what language I moan. I told him he'll get his answer by making me do so. That might have been a mistake... I can be very suggestive in my words but in real I'm pretty much as stiff as an icicle. Still I've been ranked as the naughtiest person (some) people knows and yes, I take that too as a compliment. But I wonder (more often than I would like to admit) if that's really true. I wish there was a site or a form you could pass on to your blanket-fort buddies and ask them to rate you. "On a scale 1-10, how normal was that to you?" That would probably be the only thing that would make me want to get in touch with most my past.
PS. Did you know that Finland has been ranked as the most promiscuous country in the world? There has been studies made at least in 2000 and 2008 that both said Finland is number 1. I find this hilarious in comparison of how quiet Finns are. You can read more from wiki, The Economist and BigThink.
PPS. After reading through what I've written, I find it odd how comfortable I am writing about personal things. Reading this makes me more uncomfortable thinking how much of a bitch I am for writing about someone else without asking a permission first than anything personal of my own. So, my dear Ex, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I wish all the best for you, you're not a bad person. We wouldn't have been together that many years if you were. I don't think we can really change who we are, but we can use more courage and be more ourselves with that bravery. There are some things I need to talk about and there probably are a lot of things you should talk about to someone. It's not too late for that. Good luck.
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