“I have something to tell you.” His blue eyes looked pained, and he spoke carefully and slowly. “My ex is pregnant. I am going to be a father.”
I stared at the love of my life, waiting for the words to register. “Well. Want some whiskey?” I quickly slid off the leather couch and floated over to grab a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label off the shelf above us, it only took two steps in our tiny Taiwanese luxe studio. I poured each of us a small tumbler, sank into his chest, and without hesitation I declared, “I love you. Everything will be okay.” This was the beginning of the end of the best and worst relationship of my life.
It’s been two years since I last saw C, and it’s taken me this long to open these vivid memories up. I think maybe once in your lifetime you’ll be in love with the right person at the right time, and when it’s over you can never quite settle for less. The two and a half years C and I spent together were extraordinary, and no one has come close since. I first met him in Taiwan, both of us expats. We started off as teammates, and blossomed into hiking partners, drinking buddies, travel mates, roommates, and lovers (not quite in that order). He was brilliant, wise, kind, successful, sensitive, dependable, athletic, well-traveled, ambitious, thoughtful, a born leader, popular, articulate (with an Irish accent) and absolutely adored me unconditionally. We had lots in common, but we encouraged each other in our own personal growth. He constantly inspired me to be a better me, and at the same time I felt like I could do no wrong in his eyes. We practiced our Mandarin together, ate out at different restaurants every night, went out with our teammates and developed our own hobbies. Once, I came back into our flat in tears because I tried out a Bollywood dancing class-I sucked and my ego was bruised. He put his book down immediately to hold me and laughed, “You know, it would have been really weird if you had turned out to be good at it.” He always made everything better. On the weekends we would explore the city and go on crazy hikes, bike rides and Gaelic practices until we were all sweaty, happy and dirt covered, hanging out with our friends at the smoothie stands. Our lives fell into place together effortlessly, and I loved him more than I knew was possible.
Weekday mornings were my favorite. He would slip out of bed as the sunlight was just starting to creep through our curtains and go for a jog up Elephant Mountain next to Taipei 101. He always kissed me first. I would hit snooze. I loved laying in bed as he would come back and throw on some weird Irish music on the speakers before hopping into the shower. Eventually I would get ready as well, and we always left together holding hands in the elevator, reminding each other of things not to forget. Sometimes if he was waiting for me, he would make tea in the kitchen and I would only drink half my mug. I’m not sure why he always made me tea knowing that I would only remember to drink half. At the MRT platform, we would catch trains going opposite directions to work. And there we would stand in the middle, with our briefcases, kissing amongst the sea of disapproving Taiwanese morning commuters until one of our trains pulled up. With him, I felt like the most beautiful, intelligent and powerful woman in the world, and we couldn’t wait to take on the rest of our lives together.
We found out about his son a few months into our relationship. I could not believe he didn’t know before, and a part of me is still suspicious, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to tell me. I was in denial until the baby was born, and then I could not escape from the abuse the mother began to wreak on me. I wanted to be happy for him, but I slipped and fell into a deep depression. I always knew he would be a great father, and we joked about our future babies all the time, but then…he became a parent without me. I tried so hard to see myself as a stepmother, but I failed. Despite my despair I showed C my support, because seeing him in so much pain hurt me too. Our closest friends knew what we struggled with, but to everyone else, our relationship was flawless.
Fast forward two years, pass the months of couples therapy, endless court battles over child support and custody, leaving the support of our friends in Taiwan, long distance while I volunteered in Honduras, moving with him to Dublin and San Francisco, still amidst depression I found myself alone in Portland by choice. I learned the hard way that even IF you have the person you love with you, it doesn’t mean you’ll be happy anywhere. Alone but determined, I landed on my feet and found a job, a flat, reconnected with friends and started a new life in Oregon.
Looking forward, I know my ideal relationship isn’t a crazy impossible fantasy I’ve dreamt up in my head. I know a love like that exists because I’ve experienced it before. I know my dream guy is out there, because I dated him once. My heart gets broken a lot because when a man says he loves me, I think it’s forever, I think it’s going to be as real as C’s was. Someday, I’ll meet another man who will love me as I am and we’ll last forever.
