So, Nick texted me. After literally almost 3 months of silence through multiple attempts of communication and unanswered emails, he texted me. I looked down at my phone screen after hearing my text alert, I was driving, and almost crashed into on coming traffic. I told myself that I was just imagining the picture of us with his name under it on the screen. That my mind was just playing tricks on me and it wasn’t really there. It was a different Nick and my heart switched out the picture, like a cruel joke on myself. I pulled my car over to the shoulder of the intracoastal bridge that I was crossing and took a deep breath. I don’t do it very often lately, but I looked up and asked God to please not be playing some kind of joke on me.
I unlocked my smart phone’s screen and there it still was: my favorite picture of us together, his name, and the alert that there was a new text message. I swallowed down all the nerves and questions and the strange feeling that I still can’t even seem to find the right words to describe what it was. I took a deep breath and opened it.
We texted for the remainder of that Saturday. I worked in the middle at Green Room, and to my surprise the texts lasted until after the bar had closed and I was back at home. I do not know if he was on or off his boat while all these were happening; I didn’t have the courage to ask to be honest. The conversation wasn’t a good one, but it wasn’t really a bad one either. It wasn’t about getting back together. It wasn’t about missing each other. There are a million questions I wish I would’ve asked, but didn’t because I held back. I was too surprised that he even contacted me that I treated the situation so delicately that I think it has made everything worse.
See, the texts started that day and ended that night. There hasn’t been any return of conversation. I can’t really say that I am surprised. I can really say that I am extremely confused. Actually, I can’t. I still feel like I know Nick so well; I do know him so well. I am grateful for the texts that I got. He contacted me. Out of nowhere. And yes, at first it was to sort of yell at me for some instagram stupid stuff. But you know what that means? That he still looks at my instagram. You know what else it means? That he is beginning to get over his pride a little bit and after he texts me instead of just deleting it, he actually sent one. You know what else it means? That he still cares about me enough to, although it was through harsh words, watch out for my well-being and somewhere inside him is still the urge to try and protect me.
Nick is the type of guy to wipe someone completely out when he’s decided to be finished. I think he may be one of the most cold hearted guys there is; except I never witnessed that side. I got a guy who hid notes and bible verses around our house, who had breakfast delivered on my birthday when he was out of town, who wrote me poetry, and who showed me glimpses of his heart. I’ve often questioned these glimpses since the split. That maybe those were just the fake pieces of Nick, that maybe they were just the times he was acting how he thought he should, but that they didn’t come from the heart. That he was trying to be what I wanted, but that after we stopped talking, he was being who he truly was: a cold-hearted, womanizing, bed-hopping barfly. This view was the one everyone has been trying to push on me to believe. That I had idolized him in my head into a person greater than the real Nick is.
Nope. HA. Everyone was wrong. See, if Nick would’ve never texted me, I would’ve finally agreed with everyone. I was just giving into it all. The hope was gone. I was thinking about dating this guy who had been displaying interest and is pretty attractive. I was about to just throw all my feelings away and write it off as my heart just being stupid. I was going to cover him up with someone else and drinks and bars and parties. It’s like Nick has this direct line to my heart and my soul because there has only been three times in my entire knowing him that I was at my wit’s end. That I needed something, anything, from him to stop me from turning around, closing the door, and never looking back. Three times I have prayed to God so desperately asking for a sign or a clue to which direction I am supposed to go in with Nick. Each time, He’s provided one. I don’t care if you believe in God, or the Universe, or Karma, or whatever. But I do know that every single person believes in love. If you want to admit it or not, you do.
That morning I had poured my heart out. Telling Him I couldn’t do it anymore. Explaining that it had been nothing but silence from Nick and I couldn’t hold on anymore.
Then I got the text messages. And everything didn’t get answered or really even addressed. But I know Nick. If he still didn’t love and care for me, that picture of us with a new text alert wouldn’t have been on my phone. It’s all going to be ok. I knew it would be. I will take this sign and continue how I was thinking before I started letting everyone else change my actions. I love him, I promised him my life, and I think that one day it’ll all work out. I am not dating anyone else for a year, so maybe by April there will be another break-through or two with us. Maybe there won’t be. For now, I am extremely grateful that I got the sign that I did. And just because it wasn’t some huge get back together text conversation or even a visit, I’m ok with that. Because I know Nick, and if he didn’t give a fuck, he wouldn’t give a fuck. There would have continued to be no communication.
I am refreshed in my hope for us and faith in us. Understand it or don’t. I could careless about any of the other opinions.
Love is patient.