In Hindsight

The mature mindset would’ve been to enjoy the moment for what it was

and then let go of it forever.

Maybe we’d have stayed in touch, maybe we wouldn’t have.

The hormones were running high

and it’d been a while since I’d met someone who felt so lovely to be around.

As soon as I left her, however; some suppressed feelings of inadequacy and unhappiness

surfaced.

Things got messy at the first sign of turbulence.

But it was never about her.

Had we met today, I’m not sure there’d even be any sparks,

any mutual interest, or even things to converse about.

It was my first true femme fatale–

a woman whose thoughts impressed me as much as her body

(and boy what a nice body)—with a mind that was as manipulative as my own.

When it ended the way things did, I was twice as angry with myself

as I was hurt by what she revealed herself to truly be.

So it was never about her.

I was a reckless man, thoughtless and cavalier,

and I got exactly what I deserved.

My animus–the best and worst of me—

reflected in a mirror.

Had I possessed any self awareness back then,

I could’ve recognized those patterns sooner—

the way I was treated in relation to the way I treated others;

beforehand and afterwards–

and realized much earlier, that it was never about her.

Edward Austin Robertson