Return to Terminal D

I wrote once, almost exactly two years ago, that I left my heart in Terminal D, when I dropped Sam off at the airport to head back to Australia by way of Hawaii. I did the same today, but in a very different mindset. 

I've had too many heartbreaks with him. Too many goodbyes. That I haven't learned my lesson is but evidence that I am an imperfect human. Or maybe I have more lessons still to learn. But it stems from a very commonly understood neurobiological framework: much like a gambler's addiction, it is a response to an intermittent reinforcement schedule. I have struggled with an addiction, of sorts, to the uncertainty if he'll be sweet or self-serving. Moment to moment, we spar and I pull the lever of the slot machine to see what it'll be. I'm usually disappointed, which is why my relationship with him is a drain on me. But every so often, he is wonderful, and we share a moment of awe that bonds us. And that payout feels big, even if it doesn't compensate for the prior or future losses. I don't hold any false hope that he will miraculously change and become the love of my dreams and give me my happy ever after, at least not anymore. But I still go back for that hit of dopamine even though I know it's bad for me. 

When we first met in person, I had a moment of sadness knowing he would be leaving soon. His intuition that my mood had shifted felt like he was reading my mind and knew me on a very deep level. I felt seen. He comforted me, even though that would be the first of many bittersweet goodbyes. 

After a misunderstanding led to a chilling of our relationship, I thought it might be over then, and reflected that we still had the wonderful Scotland memories, which are still some of my favorites. 

When I bid him goodbye last year as I left Australia, I thought it very probable that would be the last time I'd see him, even though his ever-positive outlook assured me otherwise. While our discussions about our plans for the future early in the relationship had included living together and determining where in the world we'd want to move to, the narrative changed early last year and the inversion of reality started to rear its ugly head. I was made to believe he had never indicated we were aligned on those plans to live together. That wasn't the only topic on which I felt gaslighted, but it was the most painful one. He regularly would explain to me why his version of reality was the only logical, correct one, and would dismiss anything I'd say as irrational or emotional. He used to love telling me how he is the logical one and he always dates emotional women, which has led me to the belief that he causes women to be emotional because of his dismissal of anything but his own version of reality. 

I ended the relationship at the end of the year when he confirmed that he would never live with a romantic partner, not in the US, not in Sydney, not anywhere, and we both knew, as I made it abundantly clear, that that was not going to work for me. He pleaded with me to stay in his life as friends, and he left the door open for me to reach out while abiding by my request for no contact. 

Stupidly, I opened that door. I invited him to join me in our favorite midpoint - Hawaii - and specifically, an island neither of us had visited yet, Kauai. The onslaught of excited messages when we reconnected was too much, and it freaked me out. Thankfully, either reading my energy or just getting bored, it slowed down, but he did join me in Kauai. I was grateful for his company when swimming in the ocean, as I have a little bit of a fear of being in the water by myself. But I put a firm boundary on him when he kept making managing of his comfort my problem. The rest of the visit was taxing, but overall, okay. Even though he was exhausting, I still felt a sense of loss when I dropped him off at the airport. I should really stop doing that, maybe I should make him Uber next time. 

The World Cup, though, that might be the final straw. I know I've moved the goal line a few times with him, and I think he's misled me a few times before I set those bounds, but this is so glaring, it seems impossible to (ir-)rationalize a way out of it. 

He'd been talking about coming to Dallas for the World Cup since I've known him - he's a big soccer (football) fan and so understandable that going to a World Cup game was a big thing to him. Because I opened that door to friendship after we ended our romantic pursuit, he would continually check with me that I would go with him to the games. He sugar coated it with, "I want to spend time with you," and wanting to share that experience with me. When I started to feel a little pressure around booking things, I told him since this was his thing, that I wasn't going to pay for the hotel, but that I was excited to go with him. He immediately pivoted to say it's not that big of a deal to go, and he would just come to visit me in Fort Worth, and we'd just spend time together. The about-face was alarming, considering how much he had talked about it over the last two years, and he gave up so quick. 

But then, he and his Australian friend decided it was too good to miss out on, so they got tickets to two games in the northeast for the Australian team, and tagged his visit to me at the end of that (along with a few days in Hawaii - must be nice). I was frustrated that he didn't invite me - he's never let me meet his friends or family which was always a red flag when we were trying to date, but now even as friends, I was disallowed even though I had expressed interest in going so long as it wasn't on my dime this time. The amount of vacation time he took to accomplish all this was also staggering, considering how he'd cut short every other trip with me on account of not having enough vacation time at work. 

Honestly, after reading and reflecting, I was ready to cancel his visit here. I knew it would be draining for me. And I was pissed that I wasn't invited (allowed?) to go to the games with him. But the kind of overly generous person I am wouldn't let me do that to him, even if he clearly deserves it. So I just managed my own emotions and desires as best I could to survive the visit. It wasn't bad per se, it just wasn't fulfilling. But more importantly, it proved again and definitively how he absolutely understands what I want and need, AND puts no effort into satisfying those unless they happen to overlap with his own desires. 

I decided to capitalize a little on the situation by asking him point blank if his buddy paid for everything. He said they split it, which makes sense, but admitted they stayed very far out of the cities and with friends to save on money, an arrangement that was never and would never be an option for me. 

I can never convince myself that he doesn't realize or understand my needs, because he is so keenly observant and intuitive. He called out directly the fact that I wasn't taking many selfies with the two of us - and compared it to before. But he moved on so quickly, it was obviously not hurtful enough or even important enough for him to be curious and ask why. The reason, in case you are wondering, dear reader, is because after I ended our romantic relationship, even when I opened the door to a travel buddy friendship, I'd kept him out of my public and social life, the way he'd done with me for our entire relationship. So there is little need for selfies if I intend to share them with no one. Indeed, I am hesitating and have held off on publishing this post, because it still hurts and I am maybe a little embarrassed. 

There was only one thing firmly planned into his short visit here - a show that was part of my season tickets, the dates of which I moved to accommodate when he'd be here. So on Sunday, we went to see the play Clue, and it was pretty good, although I prefer musicals. The game Clue being a big part of my childhood, before going to the show we had a conversation that exemplifies what I have always adored about our relationship - the comparing and contrasting of our lives and cultures in the US and Australia, respectively. The game was called Clue-do for him, and I had been aware of that name, like in the UK, but never knew why it was called that. So, Sam looked it up as he does, and we had a moment of learning and sharing. 

Other than that, we slept in, watched the soccer matches on TV, did his obligatory shopping (I think I need to pass on this in the future, perpetually), and he did his walks in the afternoon, followed by a swim in my pool together. I let him drive the plans for the days and deferred to him for activities. I did think it was odd that he took a nap during one of the games rather than strive to stay up for the 90 minutes, given his urgency for watching the games otherwise. 

He wanted to go to Fan Fest so we set our sights on that for the last day and I drove the 45 minutes out, only to be denied at the gate because we hadn't secured our free admission tickets and they were now "sold out." This seemed like a miss on his part for planning, although I understand he didn't know it would sell out. But if it was so important we go, we probably should have just gotten our free tickets beforehand. We ended up at the Londoner Pub which had a great atmosphere of cheering fans, good food and drinks, and was out of the sun. Mr. Positivity said it was better than Fan Fest would have been. He has a way of always finding the silver lining and a declared belief that "everything happens for a reason," but I suspect its dishonest in times like this. At least he didn't blame me, I guess. 

But one of the biggest things I wanted to see with this visit was if he'd give me the physical romantic touch that I so crave and never get enough of. I'll be honest, when I re-opened the door for a travel buddy earlier this year, I was on the fence as to whether I'd set a boundary on being affectionate physically or not, and because I wasn't sure myself, when he went for the kisses in Kauai, I allowed that to determine the answer. So we were physically affectionate in Kauai, but of course not enough to actually satisfy me, and I let him know. On this trip, and especially on the final day, him saying once again that he was "too tired" to cuddle and had to make his tea and had to digest his food and, and, and… and that's just it. Perhaps it would have been better for me, knowing how limited he liked to keep his physical affection when we were trying to be a proper couple, to have set the hard limit that we were strictly friends with no benefits or love language touchiness or kisses. Then the boundary would have been mine and he wouldn't have been able to disappoint me. But I failed to make that choice, which once again put him in the driver's seat, opening the door not for something wonderful, but for my feelings of never being satisfied. 

So as I bid him goodbye yet again at Terminal D, with his positivity that we'll see each other again soon, I bid him a more final goodbye in my head, although not entirely in my heart. 

I am grateful for the lessons I've learned. Sam triggered me to face my childhood trauma, something that, for years, I had suspected was lurking deep down, but didn't want to face it before. Having to face my own personal brand of messed-up-ness, to learn how that translates into not just my romantic relationships but my friendships, family relationships and work, and finding strategies to ground myself in my own self-worth were all really valuable. I needed to go through that eventually, and he kick started that journey. 

When I ended things with Jaiman after nearly 10 years, I was comforted by the knowledge that our happy memories were still mine to cherish, but I wasn't grateful for the relationship because it didn't help me grow - if anything, I may have become a worse version of myself with Jaiman's influence in my life. With Sam, I am grateful for the relationship because of the personal reflection it has forced upon me, and yes I have some cherished memories that are technically still mine to keep, but they are tainted with the knowledge that I was never actually totally happy with Sam. It's a different kind of goodbye then. 

Is it the final goodbye? I'd be kidding myself if I said it was this time. I have more clarity and gravity in my position today, but the eternal optimist in me believes that people can change when they believe they must. So while I have no delusions that I can force Sam to change, and I have a large majority of doubt that even the threat of my renewed absence in his life would spur a change in him, I hold space that if he really sees the value I bring to his life, both tactical and emotional, in whatever mix he so chooses, that it could, potentially, with the slightest of probabilities, cause him to look in the mirror. In other words, I'm not opening the door anymore, but I am not ready to shut it and lock it. I will leave it cracked just a hair, and let him do the heavy lifting, if that's what he chooses to do. And I'm not going to kid myself that the likelihood in anything more than absolutely miniscule. 

So it's a heavy goodbye, today, because it carries nearly as much weight as a final goodbye would, because I have no reason to believe he will change his tune and make me feel valued. The weaponization of my generous "polite survivor" mentality and of my perpetual optimism have taken tolls greater than I wish to admit. I have allowed myself to over-accommodate and manage his emotional and physical needs while settling for scraps, and that allows him to remain content and self-assured in his reality that he knows what's best. No more. I cannot accept a poor quality and low-resolution relationship. I have no more trips firmly planned with him, and I have no need to lock anything in with him ever again.