I always play the one year ago game. I think back to where I was one year ago, what I was doing, thinking and who I was dating. Last October 1 I made a promise to myself to start over. I had just been dumped. Again. Same guy, second dumping. I returned my hair to ultra glossy light blonde. A cliche, but I needed updating and freshness. Plus that whole more fun thing, was something I needed. Desperately. That relationship was NOT fun. I changed my phone number. A practical necessity following Katrina's destruction of the cell phone towers, I had no way of calling out. But in reality a true new beginning. An 813 number. The final promise was to not take him back. I didn't. It took several more weeks to finally make that clear. It was only then that Magoo came into my life. That confirmed my theory that you need to close, even slam if necessary, one door before another can open.
Yet that day was still hard. I stood resolved in the cell phone store in the mall. But the salesman could tell my angst. He presumed it mistakenly for being a storm victim, given my old phone number. But that is how downtrodden I must have appeared.
Looking back on it, I think what made it the worst kind of break up but one of the easiest was acknowledging what was wrong. He never loved me. Never even pretended to. I just presumed he did and wanted him to. He made no representations as to loving me. In fact it was clearly obvious he did not. I am sure everyone knew that. Just not me. Finally, recognizing that made it simple to move on. Yet, the worst part was reviewing my own paaaa-thetic behavior over the past year. As if the fact that he dumped me twice was not enough. Why did I take him back? Another six months of torture? Sign me up. While we are at it anyone know where I can buy a one way ticket to Guantamo.
No sleepovers on school nights. He was too busy. No e-mails at work. He was too worried about his job. Never met any of my friends. Hear that. Not a one. Our evenings out, and I am even just talking dinner, were few and far between. We never went to a bar, club, show, anything together. Never. I saw too many movies, most of them on his couch. Not something I would chose to do. Too boring. Often times days would pass with no phone calls. He could not even bother to remove himself from his busy schedule of TV watching, golf playing and laundry to break up with me.
It was Saturday afternoon. I was looking to see what "our" plans were. He told me not to count on him. What? Repeat that? Don't count on you. I thought we decided to do something together. I thought we were dating. "Well...", he began, "I actually do not think we should do anything together....again.". Oh. Silence. So that is where this was going. Good thing I made other plans for Saturday night. That is every Saturday night.... forever. Who just walks away from a relationship like that?
Well at least that was what I thought. What I did not process was that he was never really there. Walking away was simply a small skip for him. He was never invested. All it took for him was one phone call. Like he wanted to cancel the sweater he ordered from J Crew.
Despite this, I decide a week long break is what we needed. Remember, torture? Guantanmo is nice this time of year. He agreed. Come Friday, I asked him when we can discuss "us". Again, he has no time to do that. "I suppose I could fit you in before the Michigan game, say 10 a.m." Fuck no. Finally, finally I became the smarter girl. Heeeello! That was a pretty good sign, not only of his intentions but also that I should stop eating shit with a spoon as if it were mint chocolate chip ice cream. Yum, double scoop please. That was not happening, any longer. Ass munch. We were done. So I let him know it. Insert a fair amount of fuck you's, ass holes and motherfucker. I yell when I am mad. I also have a mouth like a sailor. At last, I finally grew a pair and stood up for myself. At least I could go out with a bang, since I had been a chicken shit for an entire year. Dealing with his whatever issues.
Few tears were shed. I lost a boyfriend, which always breaks your heart. But only to a degree. Especially when your heart should not have been in line of fire to begin with. I was pathetic and sad. Recapping it later, all I can explain was that I was stupid. Girls do stupid things. It was stupid. I have no other adjective. I just have time, one year does wonders for perspective. Thats why I play the game.
Labels: Last Life