Towards the end, Henry broke his promises and there were only 3.

The insults, if I were to defend him, I would say that he didn’t see these as insults, merely a form of disgust masquerading as chastisement for my own good. For what it’s worth, I knew he lost respect for me once I detected exasperation in his tone and an inability to look at me when I was at my lowest point. He hates it when I’m wallowing in frustration or disappointment at unfulfilled dreams and rejection. He chose to sidestep problems with laughter and I needed solutions to move on.

He cares not about my feelings, he makes little effort to spend time with me. Towards the end he says deliberately that he has time but chose not to spend it with me. What was I supposed to feel? Happy about this confession? His favourite line was, ‘You asked for it’ whenever I brought up an unsavory commitment issue and hated his noncommittal answer. I felt scared and jealous all at the same time, yet a part of me knows that I can do the same, I can be as detached but I just didn’t want to get out of my comfortable rut. I took it all in when he blamed his bad behaviour on me, on my neediness.

He walked out on conversations. He chose not to see me when I was crying hard because I finally realised I put my faith in the wrong person. That I was alone essentially and I could not recognise myself anymore. He chose not to love me and support me then. He chose not to imagine a future in which I was in it. I’m sure I was an albatross around his neck. If I could choose to start all over again, I wouldn’t start anything with him because it’s the little things that drove us apart honestly. Finally, when we’ve wrapped things up, saying very little, we become strangers once again, Henry and me.

When asked what I wanted in a man, I said 3 things at the beginning : 1) To respect me  2) To take care of me 3) To never give up on me

Seems so deceptively easy. These are the hardest things.