Disappointed? About what?

Last week, while spending time with my girlfriends and enjoying a thoroughly enchanting conversation - in the middle of practically punctuating every sentence I made with his name, he appeared from out of nowhere.

I ended up having to spend almost the entire night one table away from where he and the girlfriend sat among friends, with her throwing herself all over him.

It was good that my chair forced me to face the other way.

It was just...different. You know?

Like...I was expecting something more.

More of him.

And I came to realize with a dawning look that he wasn't any less of himself.

He had just grown (or not grown, in a way) and has become a totally different person.

He probably told the girlfriend everything, which I don't really mind. I hadn't gone anywhere cheap with him anyway.

It was strange.

But it was the way I loved him.

It wasn't anything physical. I didn't dream of, you know, heated...exchanges, you could say... between us during midnights in any case. I don't know. In the nearly eight years spent being in love with him, I truthfully just never thought of wanting him that way. Ever.

Which is quite funny when one comes to think about it. I want a lot of other men that way most of the time.

It's just...

I wanted to share my soul.

And I wanted to look into his.

That night, it's like my world had tilted back into place. It had been revolving around the idea of him and the desire for him for a really long time. My world - perfect and infuriating and beautiful in every other aspect - had always been set askew by him.

As if Atlas indeed, had a hard time shrugging him off.

But that night... That night, I looked at him when he came up to greet us.

And I waited for that same sound of knocking at my door...and I waited.

By the end of the night, I'd just realized almost as if in a breath - the door was closed.

And it was now closed to him.

Finally.

Thank you.

To the gods, to the Universe, to mountains... thank you.