I think I’m in love with someone I met 12 years ago

“I think I’m in love with someone I met 12 years ago and I owe it to myself to give that a shot.”

I told the guy I was seeing for two months. He sat there confused as hell.

“Uhmm okay — it doesn’t make sense to me, but if that’s what you want, sure.”

He obviously didn’t want to come across as a pushy person or put his self-respect on the line by probing me. However, he did say:

“If there’s no problem between us, I don’t see why you have to take it out on us based on a floating thought.”

I wasn’t listening.

I was adamant about leaving him. And when I’m adamant, there’s nothing anyone can do. His words stayed with me as I went about my so-called freedom, but I shoved them to the back—like I’d done in a previous relationship I left without really understanding why.

A few months had passed. He was still the same sweet human that he was, and I missed him. I missed speaking with him—his presence, the ease of it all—but I didn’t want to be with him. Or at least, I kept telling myself that I didn’t.

And about the guy I owed myself a shot with?

Hollow words.

I didn’t care much for him. The idea of him felt more real than the person ever did.

In conversations with my mentor, I saw that I was manufacturing something—this idea of a guy I hadn’t seen in 12 years being “the one”—so that I didn’t have to confront my feelings for the one in front of me.

Truth is, I felt the possibility of something deeper with this guy, and that scared me. My brain simply wanted to protect me from any hurt, so it presented this very real guy for whom I had very real feelings—just that I had no idea who he was now, where he was, or what he was.

My brain made up something believable to avoid the impending hurt.

Eventually, I had to confront my feelings for this guy and tell myself to stop being an ass. Being hurt was a consistent tape I played in order to avoid putting my heart out there.

Did my being really want to do that? No.

Did my brain? No.

Poor thing—it just wanted to protect me.

However, this guy confronted me, and I chose to listen to the voice of my being, perhaps after many years of not doing so.

I’m glad I did.

As I type this story, I’m holding our baby in my lap.