For a very long time, I wondered how this would end. Would there be a dramatic climax? Or would love just slowly and quietly die from lack of tending?
It’s hard to even know what to call it anymore. It hasn’t been a relationship for a long time. It was a hope. Fondest dream. Futile faith in what a love might be? Fantasy, maybe?
Of all the things I imagined for seven years or so, I never imagined that it could end as sour grapes. But now that the hurt of lost love has faded into vague resentment instead, I can’t help but think, “I wouldn’t have wanted her anyway.”
I laugh bitterly at myself and wonder whether I tried to fool myself for years or if I’ve been trying to fool myself more recently. I’m not sure I would know when I’ve been most honest with myself — then or now — much less what was really best for all involved.
All I can do is point to Aesop’s fable called, “The Fox and the Grapes.” Do you remember the story?

Practically and legally, it’s true: Good fences make good neighbors
Mundane expressions of love matter more than movie versions
Sounds of old music awakened repressed feelings from my past
Will Honduras establish the first modern free city? It’s possible
Despite liberal predictions, ending gun bans didn’t lead to Wild West
I hate the intense pain, but I don’t know how to live without longing
I’m struggling to bridge the gap between my need and my reality