Alright Already

Just when I thought the Elliot pain had died down a bit, here it comes again. Yesterday, I was trying to free up some space on my hard drive because it's getting overloaded with videos and mp3s. As I was deleting a bunch of stuff from my documents folder, I came across two different files that Elliot had left there, both about philosophy and probably both relating to his dissertation. At first I thought I should delete them, but then it occured to me that he might have forgotten about them and needed them for his dissertation work. I still thought, "Who cares? I should just delete them, it's not my problem," but I really didn't want to be petty and mean despite all that had happened. So, although it was so, so, SO hard for me, I wrote him an email telling him what was in the files and asking if he needed them. I offered to send them to him before I deleted them. I felt like I was being very mature and gracious, and I was glad that I hadn't let all the pain between us stop me from doing what I felt was the kind and decent thing to do.

Well, that was stupid. He wrote back with the most curt, terse, unfriendly email I have ever received, telling me he didn't need the files. He didn't thank me for offering to send them, and he didn't even put a greeting line with my name and a comma. I suppose this is all pretty dumb, but it really did hurt my feelings. Whatever Elliot's faults, he was always a gracious gentleman when it came to certain things. I thought he would at least be polite and respectful in his reply, but instead he ended up making me feel like he was angry with me. Perhaps he is, but for what I don't really know. I did tell him not to call me anymore, but at the time he seemed to understand why I did that. Even then, I told him that if he ever really needed someone, I would still be there for him, because I had made a promise once to be there if he needed me for the rest of his life. I don't promise things that I don't fulfill, no matter how hard it is when things have changed. I just couldn't believe that he would hurt me so much by cheating on me, and then add to it by avoiding common courtesy when I tried to be mature about something difficult. I cried for the first time in a while; God, this is so, so hard. Is it not enough that the person I loved had to hurt me, now he also has to hate me, too?

Elliot and I always had a deep respect for each other, no matter what our problems were, and that respect kept us from falling into traps that many other relationships seem to encounter. To think that even that is gone is almost more sad than thinking about how our love is gone. Ugh. Why can't I be petty and angry so that I can get through this easier? Why couldn't I have seen those documents and said, "Fuck him," and deleted them? Why did I have to be stupid to tell him and then expect him to be kind about it?

What is wrong with me?