I encouraged C. to contact the woman he has been pining for, and I stand by my support of his dating this old flame. Obviously, because I am also looking down other romantic avenues. I'm still very much looking forward to my date with A., but that is not the point of this little blog.

The point is that I looked for her, so I could see this siren that captured C.'s heart as thouroughly as he captured mine. I was expecting some little vixen, a tiny blond with a tiny brain. She is neither of these things. Much to my dismay, she is just an average girl, pretty but not stunning, intelligent and charming. Damn. I was hoping that she would be some super human sex goddess that no one could compare to. Alas, she is only human, and for some reason has C. completely entranced with her. I don't mean to sound bitter, but there is a strange pang when I think of him with her, kissing her, thinking about her, giving her his heart. It's not a pain, so much as a breathless, sick to my stomach feeling. Like being sucker punched, hard. I have long moved past interfering in his romantic life, and have even assumed one of my own, as my marriage and children will attest to. But there is a part of me that has never given him up, never let him go. And it is that part that just aches at the sight of him happy with another woman. It is that part that is bitter that she is just a girl, just like any of us, and that she is the one he wants instead of me. Because selfishly, I feel like I should have been his ultimate desire, the flame that never died to him. I tell myself it would have been easier if she were a supermodel type, because I find myself thinking that there is no competition when it's beauty and sex over the real thing. Men are just hard wired to crave the beauties. Honestly, though, it doesn't matter what she is like, because there is no competition. There hasn't been in years. And that my friends, is the root of it all, I think. That I love him and care, but it's not reciprocal.

So while I am looking at other men, thinking about other love interests, part of me is still his, and that is the rub. I will definitely be moving forward, I have since we separated six years ago. But there will always be the portion that cringes a little when he looks at other women, and when he finally settles down with his one true love, I will probably be at the wedding, crying. Partly will be for joy, for him and the woman of his dreams being happy together. But truth be told, part of it will be for me, not being her. But, I will at least know that he is happy, that I gave him everything I could, and when it wasn't enough, I was still a good friend. Not too shabby, all in all.