Awkwardness, anyone?

Tonight, I went to a show with which ExBoyfriend was involved. I had performed with the company my freshman year and I enjoy musical theatre productions. I went alone. I sat by myself because even though I saw people I knew, there weren't empty seats near them. I had just taken my seat when ExBoyfriend's kid sister came over. She's such a sweetheart and I was happy to see her. She invited me to sit with her family. I adore his family. I hadn't seen them for quite some time. We talked before the show, during intermission, and afterwards too. Both of his parents are in my future profession. ExBoyfriend's mother was telling me that she'd give me copies of the pictures she was taking of her son. I began to wonder then ...

After the show, she told me to make sure he behaved himself at the cast party. I knew then. She also made a point to congratulate the musical director who complimented her son's abilities and contribution to the production. She said, "Oh, we're all proud of him," gesturing to those of us around, "his parents, his sisters, girlfriend..."

Of course, I didn't say anything. It would have been rude and inconsiderate of me to make everyone feel awkward because of the situation. So I kept my mouth shut, smiled (although I probably winced slightly), and glanced over at ExBoyfriend and saw that he looked uncomfortable.

He has not told them. It's been three weeks, exactly 3 weeks ago today. Sure, I know he's nonconfrontational and quiet about stuff ... but seriously? Did I impact his life so little that he can't even be bothered to tell his family? Maybe he's ashamed. Maybe he had regrets. Maybe he didn't care enough to acknowledge it.

We almost broke up last February. The week before Valentine's Day. Same reasons. I never got to see him and he wasn't making any effort. I was frustrated because when we did have time together, he would barely speak. We'd mostly sit in silence or watch movies or just listen to music. No intellectual bonding. After 3+ weeks of this, I was fed up. So I ended things.

Two or three days later, he asked to talk to me. He deeply cared about me and wanted to try again. I too had had a change of heart over that time but had wanted him to make the effort to show that he cared. Our relationship blossomed, and in April, we sincerely told one another, "I love you."

On the day we broke up, one of the things I told him was, "Last February, you cared so much and you were so committed to making this work. You told me, 'I need you.' How did that change? Why did it change?"

Of course, it was a rhetorical question. It made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't try to respond.
~*~*~
I did love him. He was the first ( and so far, only) guy I've ever loved. But during the course of this semester, when he wasn't there for me ... every phone call unmade, every kiss not shared, every tear unseen served to break down that love. I know it was there, but it wasn't nurtured. At some point, the fragility gave way ... and since then, I've been left with only lukewarm memories.

To me, lost love is like a dandelion. At first, you're startled by its brilliant, vibrant color. How could this flower ever be called a weed? Its fresh appearance begins to fade ... but maybe you don't notice because you still remember how optimistic it looked. Or maybe you try to remember what it looked like and you close your eyes so you don't see the flower changing before you. Suddenly, you become aware that this flower-weed has become a cloud of cotton between your fingers. If you're not gentle, the fragile wisps of what-was will float away, leaving you with nothing. Someday, I'd like a real flower.