Until Jealousy Do Us Part…

It was 10 March, an ordinary afternoon.

Looking through the window, I could see light rain falling when a new message appeared in my chat.

It was from a footballer I had always found attractive.

I loved football.

I had played it myself as a girl and had made many male friends through the sport.

We talked for hours.

Then we met.

It quickly became clear that we were very different.

I was open to the world.

I had many friends.

I chased my goals and planned my future.

His world seemed to consist mainly of his hobby, work and family.

Still, I accepted him exactly as he was.

The following day was sunny.

We walked beside the Danube.

I thought something romantic was beginning.

Then he announced that all he wanted was friendship with benefits.

That frightened me because I already liked him.

But I did not dare tell him.

So I entered the game.

I survived it for half a year.

And fell in love.

Eventually I had to say it.

At the exact place where we had first met:

Either me and a real relationship.

Or nothing.

He asked for one week to decide.

During that week, he wanted to come over because, he said, his heart hurt.

He came.

He lay on my bed.

I brought him tea.

He wanted to kiss me.

I did not let him.

I wanted the next kiss to be honest.

I sent him home.

I did not reply to a single message.

The week passed.

We met again at our usual bench beside the Danube.

He told me:

He was not in love.

But he wanted to give the relationship a chance.

I became the happiest person in the world.

Butterflies in my stomach.

My legs trembled.

Tears of joy ran down my face.

The end of half a year of “just sex” became the beginning of a four-year relationship.

Unfortunately, the enchanted smile and butterflies did not last forever.

Within the first six months, it became clear that he was intensely jealous.

But what could I do?

I was IN LOVE.

For me, he was the only person who existed.

I gave up everything.

Even my friends.

That decision hurt.

But I was not thinking clearly.

I lived inside the pink fog.

Years passed.

We experienced everything together.

Good.

Bad.

The loss of family members.

Travel.

But his jealousy hurt me again and again.

I gave him no reason to distrust me.

I lived with him.

Hugged him.

Kissed him.

I wanted him to become the father of my future child.

Still, none of that was proof enough.

Eventually I learned that previous girlfriends had cheated on him.

Then the picture made sense.

He believed that if he kept me chained close enough, he would never suffer the same disappointment again.

I felt like a little bird in a cage.

A bird with wings that was never allowed to use them.

We had been together for three years when I started thinking constantly.

Again and again, I asked myself:

Am I happy?

Am I moving forward beside him?

When will I achieve my own goals if I cannot even walk to the shop without receiving a message asking who I am with?

We argued often.

We could usually talk afterwards.

But neither of us managed to change.

I could not see light at the end of the tunnel.

I tried to imagine life without him.

I could not.

Despite the jealousy, he was also the most attentive, wonderful man in the world.

For eight more months, I waited.

Perhaps we would get through it.

We did not.

Eventually I had to say:

It is over.

I cried while saying the words.

My heart broke.

I even hated the world.

Why did it have to become like this?

But that was it.

The fairy tale ended.

Four years with you.

Thank you.

I will never forget you.

But my story did not end there.

Although our relationship ended two years ago, we still speak today.

We met again.

Held each other.

Made love like we used to.

And the next day, the green-eyed monster of jealousy was already standing between us again.

We were not a couple.

But he was still in love with me.

I became angry with him and tried to move forward.

I found goals again.

I rebuilt my friendships.

I will never throw my friends away for a man again.

After two years, I finally began dating.

But in every man, I searched for him.

Why?

Why can I still not move on?

I know that if we tried for the hundredth time, the ending would be the same.

Like reading the same book again and again while knowing exactly how it ends.

I love him.

---

And hate him for being unable to understand how suffocating his distrust feels.

That distrust poisoned our relationship.

I often walk beside the Danube.

Our bench is still there.

Filled with memories.

From there, I watch the river move endlessly forward.

The water carries many things away.

Every time, it seems to take a small part of me too.

Why does he always sweep me away with him?

Whenever he reappears, he pulls me deeper into the whirlpool of emotion.

I need all my strength to swim toward the opposite bank.

Who carries love across?

Nobody.

I will have to find a new one there.

And when strong enough arms finally hold me without taking away my air, I know I will stop looking back.

(The cover image is only an illustration.)

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