Ariel

It was 1994; the World Cup took place in the US that summer. I was still a child trapped in a grown man's body, legally adult without having any of the emotional skills required to behave as one.

Ariel was my first long-term relationship; she was obstinate and brash and didn't really fit what I thought was my type at the time, short and fairly overweight, cute and cuddly. I think what attracted me originally was her attitude; she wouldn't hesitate to tell people to go fuck themselves if she felt they weren't treating her like she deserved to be treated. It was only later that I realized that was just about everyone.

It still ended up being more than the casual fling I was originally expecting it to be. We lived together for a while at her parents' house, and after she got pregnant, her mother bought a basement apartment for us close by, and we moved into it.

Our relationship was doomed from the start. I was too immature to be a good partner to her or even to myself at the time. She was too young to be a parent, but that didn't stop her. If she decided something, then there would be no stopping her. Today, Morgana would tell me that it is because she is a Taurus, and even if you don't believe in Astrology, that label fits her perfectly.

One day, I came home after a night out partying with a friend, having spent the last part of it in someone else's bed. It wasn't the first time, it wouldn't be the last. At one point, I even made a drunken pass at her best friend while she was in the hospital a few weeks after Elyssa's birth. 

Maturity comes with age and experience; at that point in my life, I had neither.

That day, Ariel had finally had enough; when I came back from work, she told me she was going over to her mother's with Elyssa and that she wanted me gone by the time she came back.

I was devastated; it wasn't that I felt I didn't deserve this, it was the sheer weight of getting the fruits of my constant self-sabotaging suddenly thrown back into my face.

I sank down, miserable and deflated, without a purpose and future, it seemed. I don´t remember how, but I was suddenly holding a small blade in my right hand, sitting on the floor, and thinking in circles. I started scratching my left wrist with it, close to the pulse arteries, but without having the strength of will to cut through deeply. The gashes I made were still real, and each one deeper than the last.

Was I trying to end it? I don´t know, but I know I was punishing myself in some way.

It never went beyond that stage. Ariel came back home at that point, having forgotten something, and when she found me on the floor with blood flowing from fresh cuts, it shocked her to see me like this.

We got back together after that, somehow working through the pain, but it didn't last. A few months later, we separated for the last time, and I moved out.

We both learned valuable lessons from our short journey together as a couple, but separately and without acknowledging it to each other. We can learn from failures if we only listen; success teaches us nothing we don't already know.

The fruit of our labor that persists today is our daughter, Elyssa. Seeing her arrive in the world was beyond words, but I wasn't ready for the responsibility, even if I loved her from before she was born. Loved her unconditionally, without limits or capacity to compromise.

The last time I left, I left behind a part of me, and my heart sank with the failure.