We love ourselves but we can’t be together
It seems that love allows everything, that thanks to it we can move mountains, face everything. Some will even say that love always triumphs. But is it still enough? If loving is one of the most beautiful things in the world, the feeling of love does not systematically offer the assurance of happiness shared with two. Sometimes, no matter how much we love each other very much, life separates us. There can be many reasons why a love cannot live and flourish in the open.
A secret love, a forbidden love, a difference in age, culture, religion, too great a distance, a strong incompatibility of characters, different life projects… So many reasons that prevent love from winning every time. We love ourselves but we can’t be together, this is the testimony of Manon who explains that despite the love shared with David, their story can not exist.
JPOIN US ON WHATSAPP
We love ourselves but we can’t be together: testimony of Manon
“David and I should never have happened. We should not have met. Not from the same region, not from the same social background, not necessarily the same culture and the same education and not from the same generation. That was a lot of “steps” from the start. Nothing seemed to be able to connect us, to bring us together or to attract each other, with each other, and yet that is what happened.
Life sometimes likes to play tricks on us, to shake our certainties, our landmarks, to open our minds to other horizons. And towards encounters that go with it. Or rather the meeting.
But as the saying goes and even if it is horribly cliché, it is clear that “the heart has its reasons that reason ignores.”
It fell on us and I think neither he nor I understood. We knew it would be complicated, perhaps doomed to failure from the outset, but it is as if an invisible force would irremediably draw us to each other like an invisible red thread that would connect us anyway.
Perhaps it was just love at first sight after all, one of those straw fires that feed on physical attraction and quickly die out? Or maybe it would be a simple game of seduction that would hardly result in a flirtation? A few little kisses and then goes away..
I believe that we fell into the trap of feelings,love took us by surprise. I say trap because we thought we could control what was happening, but we were wrong. Our lives had decided to come together for a time, our bodies to recognize each other and our hearts to move. In the game of love, we had lost before we even knew we were in love.
This relationship, which should not have existed or been without consequences, has taken on proportions that neither David nor I had imagined.
We fell in love. We love ourselves and we don’t know what to do with this love. We love ourselves but we can’t be together…
I thought that when love came, it was a no-brainer and that everything then was easier and more beautiful. Big mistake. In our case, our feelings have only complicated everything, taking us into torments that we do not know how to manage. Because we had anticipated absolutely nothing, imagined, or even sought.
Sometimes I think to myself that if we had stayed at the beginnings of this story, everything would be much simpler today. But the second after that I hate to think like this because the love I have for David, even if I can’t feel it and live it fully, is a gift from the heart and existence.
We are 20 years apart. He is a man from the countryside, I am a woman from the city. He’s a father who doesn’t consider himself a dad anymore, I’m not yet a mother and I want to become one. He is rooted in a region that he has never left, I am from a family, a culture, a generation perhaps too, who needs to travel to discover, to recharge, to be myself. I love life at a hundred per hour, the world, the noise, the nightlife, he loves calm and silence after a big day of work.
The probability of meeting us was slim,that of pleasing us almost zero. On paper, apparently impossible. And yet we love ourselves but we can’t be together…
It was in his stud farm that I met him. I, the young woman from the city who came to spend a week of vacation. One passion is common to us: horses. But for him, it’s more than that, it’s his job, his vocation, his universe. Me it was more distant, more diffuse, it’s only part of my life.
We loved each other through looks, smiles, words and gestures. Then by our bodies with our embraces and caresses. It could have been just a holiday love, the script of a pretty romantic comedy and then nothing else. A matter of desire, pleasure and goodbye.
But when our confidences and sensibilities got involved, we lost the carelessness of this relationship for the torments of love.
We love ourselves but we can’t be together. My life is not there, his is not here.
Maybe we don’t love each other strong enough in the end, for one of us to leave his existence and join that of the other. Yet we miss each other, we think of each other, we saw each other again. And not just to drown in pleasure. It’s not just a matter of bodies, our hearts are indeed concerned.
But I don’t know if all this does me more good than harm or vice versa. I don’t know anymore. Seeing him again is a joy, leaving him a heartbreak. But at the same time, a relief to get my life back. The more time progresses, the more I tell myself that our meeting did not take place at the right time, that we loved each other too early or too late, that everything is about bad synchronization.
We are not a couple, and probably we will never be one.
Too many obstacles stand in our way, too many differences prevent us from projecting ourselves calmly. Perhaps time will do its work, moving our hearts away from one another. Or life will bring to each of us a person more inclined to share our lives. I don’t know. What I do know is that we cannot be together because we are aware that it would make us unhappy or incomplete. But at the same time, we suffer from not forming a couple.
I do not know what will put an end to our history. Or what on the contrary will allow it to emerge in the open. But I am aware that I cannot nurture hope, however small, deep inside me, indefinitely.
It’s strange, love. Why does our heart open to another if it is not to beat in unison? »