Read Online My Reality by Melissa Rycroft - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Rycroft
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would have devastated me. But, at least, that would have been something different to finally get us out of our rut. After six months of emotional turmoil, I was sick of not getting what I wanted, and not seeing any end to our pattern in sight. I was hoping that this wasn’t going to be the end of us. But, either way, I had to do something.
I had had the contract for about two weeks, and I was facing the deadline for turning it in when I went over to Tye’s condo for dinner. This was during one of our on-again times, which made it even more difficult for me to start this conversation I dreaded.
He picked up some sushi—which I loved! He knew sushi was my favorite food. This was just the kind of consideration I had wanted him to show me for the past year.
We sat up on the rooftop patio at his condo, which was one of my favorite places in the world to be. We had the radio turned on, and we were sitting there together, eating our sushi, talkingand joking around, like we always did. Except, this night was different. I knew I needed to tell him that I was seriously thinking about doing The Bachelor , and that I might be leaving soon, but I didn’t know how to do it. I had a pit in my stomach, and I’m sure I seemed nervous. I hated to bring anything like this up when things were so good . . .
What if I don’t say anything, and we just continue like this, and then we’re just good from here on out?
Oh, Melissa.
I still wanted things to work out with Tye so badly that I was eager to turn every good moment we had into proof that he wanted to be with me in the same way.
I was just working up my nerve to finally say something, when Tye handed me a manila envelope. I had no idea what it was, and I’m sure I had a confused look on my face as I took it from him.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
“Oh, okay,” I said.
I looked at the envelope. My heart immediately started pounding in my chest. What is this all about? I can’t handle anymore surprises.
“Open it,” he said.
Inside was a chain of emails he had printed out. I saw that it started with an email from my friend Reagan to Tye, and then his email back to her. As I read, tears came into my eyes. I had no idea Reagan had done this, and her words were hard to face:
“Please leave her alone. She has such great opportunities now. She’s going on The Bachelor. And she doesn’t need you getting in the way and messing it up. Because she will give it up for you. If you care anything about her, or ever did, you need to let her go.”
I read her words, and my hands started shaking. I couldn’t decide if I was angry, or grateful, she had done this. It depended onTye’s response. So I continued through the chain and read his reply back to her:
“I promise you that I will support her and be honest with her. But I will not promise to ‘let her go.’ I am sorry if this sounds ‘selfish,’ but I am not going to ignore her if she calls and wants my opinion. If she wants to go, I will surely not stop her.”
Oh my gosh, he knows about this!
I was shocked. Shocked that Reagan had contacted him. Shocked that he had written her back. Shocked that he knew about my secret.
I looked up to see the reaction on his face, but he was looking down. His hands were on his head. I couldn’t read him at all . . . I didn’t even know what my reaction was. But I did want to know what he was thinking.
Was he okay with it? Was he upset?
Not that he really had any right to have a reaction, or to be upset. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t even really dating me. If he was, he wasn’t treating me with much respect. The email had also contained a long explanation from him of why he felt like he couldn’t be with me, even though it killed him that he might risk losing me because of it. He also mentioned our poor communication and the problems it caused. I reread the line about where he was at in his life and with our relationship:
It kills me everyday to know that we
I had had the contract for about two weeks, and I was facing the deadline for turning it in when I went over to Tye’s condo for dinner. This was during one of our on-again times, which made it even more difficult for me to start this conversation I dreaded.
He picked up some sushi—which I loved! He knew sushi was my favorite food. This was just the kind of consideration I had wanted him to show me for the past year.
We sat up on the rooftop patio at his condo, which was one of my favorite places in the world to be. We had the radio turned on, and we were sitting there together, eating our sushi, talkingand joking around, like we always did. Except, this night was different. I knew I needed to tell him that I was seriously thinking about doing The Bachelor , and that I might be leaving soon, but I didn’t know how to do it. I had a pit in my stomach, and I’m sure I seemed nervous. I hated to bring anything like this up when things were so good . . .
What if I don’t say anything, and we just continue like this, and then we’re just good from here on out?
Oh, Melissa.
I still wanted things to work out with Tye so badly that I was eager to turn every good moment we had into proof that he wanted to be with me in the same way.
I was just working up my nerve to finally say something, when Tye handed me a manila envelope. I had no idea what it was, and I’m sure I had a confused look on my face as I took it from him.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
“Oh, okay,” I said.
I looked at the envelope. My heart immediately started pounding in my chest. What is this all about? I can’t handle anymore surprises.
“Open it,” he said.
Inside was a chain of emails he had printed out. I saw that it started with an email from my friend Reagan to Tye, and then his email back to her. As I read, tears came into my eyes. I had no idea Reagan had done this, and her words were hard to face:
“Please leave her alone. She has such great opportunities now. She’s going on The Bachelor. And she doesn’t need you getting in the way and messing it up. Because she will give it up for you. If you care anything about her, or ever did, you need to let her go.”
I read her words, and my hands started shaking. I couldn’t decide if I was angry, or grateful, she had done this. It depended onTye’s response. So I continued through the chain and read his reply back to her:
“I promise you that I will support her and be honest with her. But I will not promise to ‘let her go.’ I am sorry if this sounds ‘selfish,’ but I am not going to ignore her if she calls and wants my opinion. If she wants to go, I will surely not stop her.”
Oh my gosh, he knows about this!
I was shocked. Shocked that Reagan had contacted him. Shocked that he had written her back. Shocked that he knew about my secret.
I looked up to see the reaction on his face, but he was looking down. His hands were on his head. I couldn’t read him at all . . . I didn’t even know what my reaction was. But I did want to know what he was thinking.
Was he okay with it? Was he upset?
Not that he really had any right to have a reaction, or to be upset. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t even really dating me. If he was, he wasn’t treating me with much respect. The email had also contained a long explanation from him of why he felt like he couldn’t be with me, even though it killed him that he might risk losing me because of it. He also mentioned our poor communication and the problems it caused. I reread the line about where he was at in his life and with our relationship:
It kills me everyday to know that we
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