The time-bubble has popped

I knew it would hurt. I knew it going in. 

When five weeks ago I accepted the explicit invitation from my European, genderqueer friend to sleep over — and sleep with them — after going out dancing with them at a queer club, I knew I was opening the door to a whole rainbow of emotions and experiences, including the possibility of loss and pain. And after our second sleep over a week later — four weeks ago — I knew I was in for a heart break. Not because they had, or have, any intentions of breaking my heart. I am sure they care for me and revel in our connection as much as I do. But there was one of those count-down clocks ticking from the start here: their return to Europe (& my unwillingness to have any sort of long-distance relationship, especially on such long distances, although this was never brought up). 

For four weeks now I’ve known this moment was going to come. Just over a week ago, I discovered it would come sooner than I was expecting, but I made peace with it and still decided to spend this past weekend with them, and go to the Denver Pride Fest & Parade with them — which was in itself one of my (& our) most meaningful experiences, both for each one of us personally and for both of us together. I knew this would be an intense weekend, a weekend full of a whole wide range of emotions — a rainbow of emotions and experiences — including some bittersweet. But no matter how prepared we are for the pain, it always hurts more than expected when it hits. 

I have loved deeply and intensely before, many times. 

I have felt strong, deep, sincere connections on the emotional, intellectual, and even sentimental/romantic levels before. 

I still have many meaningful relationships full of love and emotional & intellectual connection that are ongoing, present, and that don’t seem likely to end any time soon, fortunately. 

But no matter how much more, or other, love there is, when one love ends — or has to end — it still hurts like hell. 

And that’s where I am today: in the phase that hurts.

I wish we had had more time because there are things I still would have liked to have done, or tried, or experienced, or explored with this person. But maybe adding more time and wonderful experiences would only have made it even harder when the forced, inevitable separation eventually came? So maybe it’s better that the “time bubble” has popped now, nipping things while still in the bud?