The Tranquil Vintessa

He didn’t call or text that night to apologize. Smart man. By the next day, I had simmered down. But, of course, there wouldn’t be a post here if he didn’t message me.

Erin reached out, cutting straight to the chase: “Just let me know if this is working for you. I don’t want to take you out and be mad. We can work through it at home.”

I repeated my sentiment from the night before. I’d tried to be chill, was warming up until he opened his mouth. And if he wasn’t here to fix what he broke, don’t bother hitting me up again. He said he wanted to fix it and offered to buy me lunch. Yes, I took the lunch—girls gotta eat, and it might as well be on his dime. He sent the food to my home.

After receiving it, I sat with it for a while. I called it off. It wasn’t worth it, and ultimately, it wouldn’t lead anywhere. I wished him luck and ate my Shawarma in peace.

Another week passed. He texted again, asking to talk. I swear, he never had this much time to communicate with me before. And I’ll be honest, I don’t know why I kept answering his calls. Part of me didn’t want it to end. He’d been fun, and I enjoyed him. Plus, damn, he was fighting harder than most guys I’ve dated. So, yes, I answered the phone and set up a time to meet.

When we met, it was at my house—no flashy bars, just us ordering Indian food and warming up to each other. We talked for hours. He shared how things had changed for him over the summer, how he’d been feeling lost, what he learned in therapy, and the actions he was taking to prioritize his relationships. He talked about how he’d been trying to please everyone at the expense of his own happiness. He told me I was important to him, and he didn’t want to lose me. He took full accountability for the mistakes he’d made and how he should have treated me better.

He said this wasn’t just a summer fling anymore. This wasn’t “just for fun,” “just a hookup.” His wife’s feelings wouldn’t influence what we had, and she would have to get used to him dating. Just like he had to get used to her dating. He promised to set boundaries with her to ensure this was respected.

I listened. When it was my turn to speak, I told him, “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it. I don’t do ‘breakup-to-makeup’ stuff. If you’re nervous or scared, go sit down and we’ll talk it out. But you have to earn my trust and respect back. We have to work our way back to where we were, and we’re not there yet.”

He understood. We talked more about past grievances, things we hadn’t shared before, and some deeper-level stuff that I won’t share here because it was told to me in good faith. When he left, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. There were no lingering feelings of anger or frustration—just peace. We had talked.

Later, after letting Tokie out, I sat with myself and thought about how I wanted to proceed in the relationship. While we were trying again, I didn’t want to feel consumed by it. I promised myself to keep my “me” days sacred, to not allow all my free time to revolve around him, and to make sure I carved out time for myself. I still intended to focus on reawakening my feminine energy through self-love and solo time. True growth means learning from past experiences and developing, whether that’s within yourself or your relationships. Even the calmest river doesn’t stay still.

Full disclosure: this happened about two weeks ago, and things have been going really well since then. I have my time, he has his, and we meet up more now than before. It’s nice, and I feel my higher self coming back into play. I’ve even set some boundaries that he respects. We communicate openly, and so far, so good.

Thanks for reading this saga. If you’ve made it this far, I’d love to know—what would you have done in this situation? Would you even have stayed in it? Let me know in the comments.