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I did see Paul last night, and I left him.
That was the wisest choice I could make.
We always have choices
The other day I was bemoaning a dilemma to my spirit guides.
If Paul hadn’t forced me to be single and go on a date, I was telling them, I wouldn’t be in this position.
They weren’t having it.
“Paul did not force you into this situation,” they said. “You have made choices at every juncture, and you are doing nothing wrong and neither is he. It is okay to love him so much and also to let him go.”
Little did I know (did they?) that a day later, that’s exactly what I’d have to do.
Ugggggh choices are tough.
Or, to reframe in Katherine’s terms, “freedom is an awesome responsibility.”
I am so grateful for my freedom. And I am also bearing its weight.
Paul is a real person
After not seeing or speaking to Paul in so long, I had almost mythologized him.
Especially since beginning this blog, he has become somewhat of a character, an object around whom to frame my personal process.
But Paul is not an object. He is a person, and I love him, and last night was fucking rough.
I saw him right away, and I was unprepared.
I’d been expecting I might see him at some point at last night’s party, which was really more of a formal event that included a dinner and dancing.
There were probably a thousand people present if not more. And who did I see as soon as I walked in the door?
We made eye contact and smiled, said hi like it was normal.
I was with a friend who is not currently impressed with Paul, so she kept walking.
But I hesitated, and then he and I exchanged a brief hug. (Sadly, I don’t even remember how it felt.)
I was thrown and doing my best to keep my composure, so made no effort to exchange further pleasantries, especially because more people were streaming in behind me.
Then my friend and I entered the ballroom and sat down at our table—which turned out to be adjacent to his.
There were well over 100 tables. In a massive ballroom. And our assigned seats put Paul and me less than ten feet apart.
Paul might as well have been a stranger
Yet aside from our initial hello and hug, Paul and I had no contact for the rest of the evening.
That does not mean I didn’t see him.
He. was. everywhere.
During dinner, every time I turned to my right I could see him in my peripheral vision.
I really tried to keep my focus on my friends at the table, but it was hard not to feel like I was putting on a show.
It would have been wonderful to convince myself he wasn’t there, to relax and enjoy my time.
But every move I made, I was aware of his presence. And never once did he try and connect his presence with mine.
It. sucked.
Of course, I kept my distance too.
(So who knows, maybe he’ll write a song about how I snubbed him.)
But I don’t think I could have done anything different. He’s the one who asked for space.
And yes, we were both in the same place. But we were not there for each other.
Nope, we definitely weren’t.
I did my best not to make a big deal out of the situation, but my friends noticed eventually, especially once we all started dancing.
It was a crowded floor, and somehow, no matter which corner I migrated to, he was there too.
“Isn’t that your ex right behind you?” someone shouted in my ear.
I shrugged, not wanting to risk turning around and getting caught looking.
“Probably,” I replied. It had been three other times, anyway.
I wish Paul cared enough to stalk me
I realize it’s a bold statement to say I wish Paul cared enough to stalk me, and I probably should rephrase that.
Especially because I know how it feels to be stalked.
(That’s a story for another time, but to suffice to say that after I ended things with Leo, his consequent behavior prompted me to take a self-defense class.)
So what I really mean is, I don’t think Paul was following me. I don’t think I was following him, either.
It was just…what happened, as best I can tell.
And if he had been following me, I would have probably been pleased.
Instead, we avoided interacting altogether.
Every time I snuck a glance his way he seemed to be having an amazing time dancing. And I did my best to be doing the same.
But eventually the crowd thinned, and the absurdity of the situation became unavoidable.
It was after 1 a.m., and there were maybe twenty people still on the floor. Literally the only way for me to avoid constantly seeing Paul was to deliberately turn my back.
Part of me hungered for connection. In a few more songs, the event would end. And it would be prettttty easy to ensure that our paths crossed near the exit.
Instead, I made a judgment call, hugged my friends, and headed out on my own.
Making the right choice matters
I am humbled by how hard it was to walk away.
I mean, actually leaving the event was easy. We’d been ignoring each other all night (however amicably), so ducking out before Paul was simply an act of self-preservation, protecting me from potential—likely?—rejection.
But I knew I was leaving more than the event. I was leaving Paul on a deeper level.
Because the Paul I fell in love with is not who I saw last night.
Neither of us were fully authentic in that setting. It was basically one long live-action social media post. But the absence of connection still hurt.
So rather than hold out hope, I chose not to inflict further pain.
And when I got home and reviewed the text for Lesson 28, I felt validated in my decision.
Because it’s true: “Every decision we make, even the seemingly small and insignificant ones, have weight and authority in the Universe to either create a life that we love and cherish or one that is filled with compromises and disappointments.”
Last night was a disappointment. And if I’m honest, I can admit that the final months of my relationship contained a lot of compromises.
I’m not seeking out more of either.
I intend to create a life that I love and cherish, and to do that, my primary responsibility is to make wise choices. Choices that honor my values and reflect my intention to love myself absolutely.
And the most loving action I can take for myself right now is to absolutely let Paul go.
Love > fear,
Christina
Want to know what happens next? Proceed to Chapter 29.
Missed what happened before? Go back to Chapter 27, or start from the beginning.
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