So Many Regrets

I was deeply saddened when I heard that Tom had died of a heart attack, even though it was 15 years since I ended our relationship. My regrets and guilt had never gone away and it was not helped by the fact that I knew I had taken the only possible decision; to have gone on what have brought disaster and by the fact that Tom was a kind decent man who deserved better. We had sat together by chance at a meal out with friends but at that stage we hardly knew each other; by the end of the meal when he asked if he could see me home we both knew where it was going. There had already been those subtle looks and questions asked and not asked. I was surprised and shocked at myself; even with my ex and more recently a failed relationship we had gone on at least three dates before we slipped into bed together. When we got back to my flat we went through the motions and had a couple of glasses of wine, almost so we could blame the alcohol later, before getting into bed.

I had had a bad time; a nasty marriage breakup followed by an unhappy relationship which had left me fragile and wary of men. And yet Tom already seemed someone I could trust and love. Somehow he fitted all my needs and I wanted so much for this to work this time and after so long. And when we woke together that first time I snuggled up to his sleeping body and felt that sweet contentment and confidence that I had found my true lover. But all too soon it was time to rise and get ready for work. We had showers and a hurried breakfast before we walked together before going our separate ways with a kiss and a promise to see you that evening; and he clearly wanted and needed someone just as much as I did.

For a few weeks we were inseparable and then he asked me to marry him. I agreed; I was still carried way by the joy of that new relationship. But, and there is always a but I knew that Tom liked his drink. I had no real problem with that except that he had always liked to meet up with his mates for a few pints and gradually he took up his former ways after the initial frenzy of togetherness. I soon realised that was important to him; it was part of his way of life and he was reluctant to give it up whereas I wanted him home with me even if it was just watching TV because we were a couple and to me that’s what couples did. And of course he would usually come to me after his drinking; he was never violent or even aggressive that was not in his nature but he was different and different in bed. I asked him to cut down and spend more time with me but he looked at me with his sorrowful eyes. I guessed he did not want to do that; not even for me or perhaps more likely he could not understand why it would matter. And Tom had lived alone for years; we obviously spent time together at his house and was disturbed to see the disarray and untidiness he lived in. For a while I would tidy up and clean but within two days or so it would be just as bad. And soon my own flat was getting that way; of course I complained but he looked bewildered; I gradually realised I, could not go on that way. And I didn’t.

I told him I wasn’t going to marry him. He took it well but I knew he was heartbroken and I hated myself but I could see he would not change. And yet foolishly, we could not quite bear to let it go completely; he started to come over for no-strings sex on Friday nights and stay for Saturday morning before I knew it had to end. I moved on; I married Steve and found my happiness; sadly Tom never did. And when he died it all resurfaced and the regrets came flooding back. I knew had we stayed together I would have cared for him; he would not have died on my watch. 

 

by Tony Roberts