Day of Infamy, Part I (Now)
Sunday, December 17th, a little after 1:00 pm. That was when all the dreams and hopes and fears and loves and lusts and jealousy and desire and wishfulness and relaxedness came to an end.
From an intellectual standpoint, I knew it had to end someday, but "someday" had always seemed so far away. But nonetheless, I kept up with the mental drills, envisioned the end coming a million times over in a million different scenarios, and thought I was prepared for the worst when she and I sat down for a brief "serious chat".
This time, it only took me about two minutes to figure out she wanted to break up with me. Her reasons were pretty simple: this relationship isn't worth the effort i'm putting into it; i'm happy when i'm with you, but not when we're apart; i feel like i'm in a relationship with all the responsibilities but none of the rewards.
I held my mask pretty well; she even commented on how calm and in control I appeared to be. Appeared to be. It took me almost two days to break down, and when I did break down, I did it in the privacy in my room, where she couldn't hear me, late at night when there was no chance of interruptions. That breakdown- tears and all, mind you- was triggered by a well-meant comment from M (sorry man, you couldn't have known how much it hurt): "Hey, if it helps, you're the least likely person that I thought this could happen to over the holidays". I told him thanks, hung up the phone, and broke down crying and screaming and wrecking myself.
The worst part though, was that for two days afterwards because of travel arrangements, I had to stay there and pretend everything was alright. She even tried to keep up with it. She even tried to pretend everything was alright. But I could tell, she was itching for me to leave. Very slowly, she slid along the gradient of acting like we always had, to cooling down, to just ignoring me altogether. That hurt. It hurt even more because I could see she was trying to let me down gently, trying not to hurt me, but to be so close to her and yet so far...
The original analogy I used was that it was like my breakup with K (see below) but instead of taking three hours, it took 3 days, and I was sick as a ****ing dog the entire time. But with hindsight, I know it won't come out to be that bad. It's closer in intensity to how Kristin and I ended it: quietly, sadly, turning away in the rain. Oh, except my lungs were filled with mucus the entire time and her best friend/mother/other friends were there to see the entire self-destruct sequence in HD.
Besides the sadness and the numbing loneliness and the hurt and the pain, there was, of course, the rage at life and fate and God and E (a little) for the way this had happened:
-She said that KA's breakup with her boyfriend had sort of triggered the melancholy feeling that led to our breakup; of course, that event and mood coincided with the exam period during which I was most stressed and we couldn't communicate much, if at all.
-I almost broke myself trying to get everything done so that I would be stress-free and ready to be carefree when I reached E. The result of course was that I got sick and wasn't thinking or acting at 100%...
-There's the effort and planning in everything I did: the comic book, the money I was squirreling away so I could surprise her at college, the ideas I had stored up for her birthday and our anniversary (now stillborn) etc. etc....of course now it's all going to waste.
-If only we had more time...if only we had more time...if only we had more time...there's still a part of me that still holds out hope, that we can work through this, and so I'm all jumpy when the phone rings, but it's not going to be her. She's probably already forgotten me, but at least she had the courtesy to try to ease the pain by sniffling and saying things like "this might be a huge mistake" and "I just don't know what I really want" and "Lauren's going to kill me" etc. etc.
-She wants to explore and get out and find new options and blahblahblah...as I should have realized, a spirit like hers deserves more than what I can give her. If she was truly as miserable as she said she was, it's my duty to let her go free, no guilt, no pain. She deserves to be free.
And that's the part that hurts me the most. I know what the right thing to do is, and the right thing to do is to let her go. I can't call, I can't beg, I can't try to manipulate her (not that that ever works), and most importantly, I have to put aside my own feelings and hope that she finds someone who will make her truly happy. I was a shitty enough boyfriend when we were together, but maybe I can assuage it by wishing her well.
Mrs. Smith: "Love is just wishing another well."
Well (no pun intended), my thought on the matter is if E's relationship with me didn't hold water (har har har, I am such a Punster) I want her to find someone who will give her happiness.
That's the official line. It's going to take me a while before I can find the courage and the love and the maturity to truly want it. But I'm going to pray for her happiness, and I ask that for those of you who are religious, that you pray for her happiness too. If I pray long enough, I will find that I really do find the fierce Christian joy of loving another unconditionally, and this pain and meanspiritedness in me will be lifted.
So fuck you, Huck Finn, you *can* pray a lie, and it's going to work for me.