I don't know if I'll ever totally get over you. Even though we were together for a relatively short time, you became an inseparable part of my existence. My life was falling apart, and in the midst of all of the chaos you were there, willing to listen and comfort and provide. We went through hell together. Maybe not the worst situation that either of us has been through, but it definitely was harrowing. You seemed so strong and so sure of yourself - so sure of US. But then everything changed. You said you were too stressed out, that the situation had finally gotten to you and that you needed to get away from it. So I held onto the hope that once things had calmed down we might get back together. But when you left, you never looked back. I don't want to know what you're doing now. I don't want to know if you're happy or sad. I don't even want to know if you still love me.

I just wish I knew what went wrong. I've finally convinced myself that it wasn't my "fault", nor was it really yours. When I was working on the hardwood floor in the living room of our new house and you walked in and asked me if we could talk, I felt only the smallest twinge of apprehension. Then everything turned to shit. You told me that we seemed to get along really well, but we just weren't compatible. I was absolutely crushed. It was impossible for me to comprehend that you enjoyed being with me but that at the same time you wanted to leave.

Maybe I was naïve.

Now, I believe that we probably weren't compatible. But the doubt will always linger. The doubt that grew when I asked for explanations, for reasons, and received very little in the way of answers. "Incompatible" is just too damn vague. But when I look back and try to think of something that I said or did or didn't do, I come up empty. Oh, I'm not perfect. I was always willing to admit that. I know I did a few things to piss you off. But you were so forgiving. What happened to you?

Jesus, I was so committed to you. I used to be able to find some cold comfort in knowing that you would be hard-pressed to find someone who would love you as genuinely as I did. Not infatuation, not worship or obsession or lust or simple need, but the deep-rooted respect and caring that came from knowing that life held no challenge that we couldn't meet, together. Remember how often I told you that? How when we were together, anything seemed possible? And I told you that I stayed with you not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. So I shouldn't have been shocked when you decided that you didn't want to stay with me anymore. But people can't spend time together like we did and not feel a loss when the relationship ends.

You helped me survive a really rough period in my life. If it hadn't been for you, I would probably have returned to that miserable relationship that I had decided to end shortly before we met. You're optimism and support carried me through. And then, just when it seemed like things were starting to look bright, I found out that I was being transferred. Nine hundred miles. It seemed so unfair; to have our relationship end before it really had a chance to grow. And you seemed to feel the same way. When you arranged to be transferred close to my where my new job would take me, I thought that we would finally be able to settle down and begin our life together.

Well, I'm sure you will have no difficulty finding other partners. At times I just leave it at that - you simply weren't ready for the commitment. You were looking for something else in a relationship, something new and exciting. Or maybe you were just looking for new relationships, period. The fact that you had gone from one short-term relationship to another never really bothered me at the time, but now I really wonder what that's all about. I can still remember the night you asked me how many women I had been with, and how shocked you were when I answered. You were number two. But then I posed the question to you, and you evaded it. You never would answer. Never. But I put that aside, thinking that you had decided to stay with me and that you were committed. What was going through my head? For quite some time I would tell myself to just put two and two together and admit that you had met someone else at work. Maybe you did. But why couldn't you tell me if that was the case?

Then I wonder why I reduce it to sex. There was so much more to our relationship. Remember when you found out I read Ayn Rand? And that I liked old movies and hiking and sharing a good bottle of wine. You told me that I made you feel different than other guys. I remember when I first told you that I loved you and how you hugged me so hard it hurt. Now I look at it differently. But it doesn't erase all of the things we shared.

You said you were leaving before you really hurt me. That struck me as a huge, fucking paradox. But I had to contend with breaking the lease on the new house while easing into the new job and riding out the shockwaves of my previous relationship-gone-bad, so I didn't dwell on your explanation. You were gone so fast that I just decided to move on. What else could I do? So I took charge of my life and got things straightened out. Things are better now. And they'll continue to improve. I'm finally getting a focus on things.

So I've moved on. My life will be bright and filled with accomplishments. I'm not boasting, nor am I trying to make you jealous. But you've made your decision. I don't hate you for it. I used to feel sorry for you, but now I don't even feel that. I just feel sad that things didn't work out. You'll have a great life, I'm sure. And someday I'll look back at the time we spent together and realize that it was all for the best, that it was a learning experience. And I'll realize that what happened was that two people simply shared a brief moment in time. And that it's good that I never totally get over you.