We shared our first kiss on a Wednesday.
We worked in office towers located two blocks away from each other in the city. Even back then he was working in a more senior role than me, and he was lucky enough to have his own parking space.
He had been my best friend for years, and that Wednesday he offered to drive me home after work. It was an offer I readily accepted because I hated catching the train. The fact he was driving me home from work was not unusual, as he drove me home quite regularly. It wasn’t unusual, except for the fact it was a Wednesday.
He always played football on Wednesday nights. It was his favourite night of the week because he loved the sport, even though he wasn’t the world’s greatest player. But he called to let me know the game had been cancelled due to inclement weather.
Much later, I found out that was a lie. The game had not been cancelled. He had given up his favourite night of the week because he had realised he was in love with me and wanted to see where his feelings were leading.
When we arrived at my house he invited himself in, which also wasn’t overly unusual. But when he sat down on my couch he was acting so jumpy and I could practically hear his heart pounding. I leaned over and gingerly placed my fingers over his carotid pulse.
It dawned on me that my proximity was the cause of his racing heart, but I wasn’t quite sure. Deciding to undertake a little experiment, I removed my fingers from his neck so that I could gently kiss the spot where they’d been. Sure enough, his pulse quickened again.
Suddenly, his mouth was on mine. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, he had flipped me so that I was lying with my back on the couch cushions, and he was on top of me. His tongue was in my mouth, his left hand was in my hair, and his right hand was creeping up my leg underneath my dress.
In our passionate stupor it briefly crossed my mind that I was being ravaged by my best friend, but I also realised that it didn’t feel weird or awkward at all. On the contrary nothing had ever felt more right. It wasn’t until that moment I realised I loved him just as much as he loved me.
We didn’t take it any further that night, because he knew I wasn’t ready. But we sat on the couch for a while, utterly tangled in each other’s arms. The moment was absolutely perfect, and I knew right then and there that he was as close to the perfect man as I was ever going to find. He was the one for me. After a while he kissed my face and moved away from me so that he could stand up.
“I have to go now.” He said. “It’s late and I have to go home. But I want you to know that even though I’m leaving, I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave you.”
Many years later, it was a Wednesday when he broke down in front of me.
We had recently gone through our third miscarriage, and since that time he had been acting depressed and distant. But he had been so normal when he arrived at our house in the evening. He had smiled and kissed me and told me that he had felt happy when he knew it was time to come home to me.
He’d been at his physiotherapist receiving treatment for a sports injury, and he had been instructed to have a bath to help ease the tightness in his hips. I raced upstairs and filled the tub for him, pleased I could do something to help. Then, whilst he relaxed in the bath, I cooked him dinner and brought it upstairs for him.
But when he emptied the bathtub and got out, I could see his mood had changed and something was wrong. I asked him if he was okay, and he replied that he was not.
Suddenly he started crying. He told me he couldn’t handle “everything” in our lives anymore. He told me he was so traumatised he could never do an IVF cycle ever again, even though he knew that meant never becoming parents. He told me that my infertility had ruined his life. He told me that the 15 kilograms I’d put on since we started fertility treatment had made me fat and he no longer found me attractive.
After hours of tense discussions and crying, he confessed that he had never realised how much his depression was affecting me. He said he was selfish to stay in the house whilst his mood was so low, because he was taking the brunt of it out on me. And he said he didn’t want to subject me to it anymore because he loved me and wanted to protect me.
So he packed his bags, and said he was going away for a few days. He planned to stay a few nights at a friend’s house so that he could clear his head and return to me a happier man. I was devastated by his decision, but outwardly supportive. I told him I would do whatever it took to get him to a healthier and happier frame of mind.
It was a Wednesday, one week later, when he called me to let me know he was never coming home.
He explained that it wasn’t until he was gone, that he realised he never wanted to return. He said that he knew how awful it would be if he ended our relationship, but he was serving me some temporary misery to save himself a lifetime of misery.
He drove to the house then, because he said he didn’t want to end it over the phone. He didn’t appreciate me pointing out that he had already done just that. By the time he arrived I was completely hysterical.
He cried and cried, and begged me to hate him for what he was doing. I just kept sobbing and telling him that I could never hate him, only love him. I asked him to reconsider. I reminded him that we were a family and a team.
I told him that I didn’t care if we never had children, or that he was depressed. I told him that I loved him unconditionally, and nothing would ever change that.
He told me that he didn’t believe in unconditional love. That every love had conditions, and that our relationship was making him unhappy. He told me once again that he didn’t find me attractive, with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He said that he couldn’t live a life without children, but he was definitely never going through IVF ever again.
I sat on our bed and cried while he told me that I would be better off without him. He told me I should find someone who didn’t care that I was overweight and liked to eat pasta. He suggested I try speed dating, or maybe find a single dad with young children. That way, I could pretend I had kids of my own and the guy would love me for being such a great role model for his kids.
I told him I couldn’t live my life without him. I told him I would die if he left me. He said if that was the case I’d better hurry up and change my life insurance policy so that he wasn’t the beneficiary anymore. He suggested I change the beneficiary to my brother.
He told me he would always love me, but he had made up his mind that our relationship was over. And then he walked out of our house and never looked back, while I curled up in a ball and cried on the floor inside the doorway.
It has now been almost a week since I have had any contact with him. This is the longest period of time I’ve gone without speaking to him in over 8 years. I am beside myself with grief.
I started receiving overdue bills in the mail this week. He was always in charge of the financial stuff, but it turns out he wasn’t doing an overly good job of it. I’ve had to take over managing all that stuff now, even though it makes me cry.
He hasn’t used our bank accounts or credit cards to make a single purchase since he left. That makes me horrifically suspicious that he has been putting money aside, or has opened a new account at a different bank.
We currently owe almost $5000 on our joint credit card and there’s just no way I can pay that bill at the end of the month. He earns over twice my wage now, because I was deliberately working in a low paid, low stress job with good maternity benefits while we did IVF.
During the day I am strong now. I eat a little food, I am showering, and dressing myself, and cleaning my teeth and feel good about the fact he hasn’t been able to tear me down and completely destroy me.
But at night time I miss him so much I nearly make myself sick. I lie awake and wonder where he is, what he’s doing, who he is with, and why he hasn’t called to tell me he made a big mistake. If he calls me I will forgive him. I will wipe the slate clean. I will tell him I understand that things said in anger aren’t always true, and that when you’re depressed you often say things you don’t really mean.
But that phone call hasn’t come. And it won’t come. Because he has made a real effort to systematically remove me from his life. He isn’t concerned about our finances, or our jointly owned home, or even the fact I posted on Facebook that I was in a minor car accident.
Furthermore not a single one of our mutual friends has contacted me to ask if I am okay, or need help. I texted a few of them but no one responded to me. He and our friends have built a stonewall, and it looks like I’m alone on the wrong side. They have completely moved on from me. I feel like we’re back in the sixth grade at school. This is not the way grown ups behave.
It was a Wednesday when I fell in love with the man of my dreams.
It was a Wednesday when the man of my dreams broke my heart and walked out on me.
And do you know what? It’s Wednesday tomorrow.
I’m terrified of what that means. Of what may come.
I used to love Wednesdays; now I hate them.
I guess you could say Wednesday ruined my life.