It’s likely that it will surprise very few of you to hear that the aforementioned gentleman and I have split ways. And if I am being honest, I can’t say I am all that surprised myself. Around July I realized that the guy I wanted him to be and the guy he actually was didn’t quite line up, and that his shortcomings weren’t just a result of “timing” as I had so wanted to believe. I very keenly remember the moment when I realized our relationship had an expiration date, and I also remember making the conscientious decision to continue with it, despite the obvious outcome. I knew it was foolish, but I was still having so much fun and I felt like I deserved to have some fun.
So yea, finding myself here, on September 21, 2014, sans Robbie in my life — definitely not a surprise. However, I can’t say I was prepared for how I got here. I mean, can you ever be prepared to have the guy you’ve been dating for 7+ months just abruptly stop talking to you, blowing off both your birthday and the wedding he had agreed to be your date for? I’m thinking no one is prepared for that.
While I always knew Robbie could be passive aggressive, had you asked me if I thought he’d ever do something like this to me, I would have told you there was no chance in hell. I would have told you that he is a 32 year old successful man, who claims to love me and see a future with me, and therefore could never be so childish as to just run with no explanation. And I would have been wrong.
It has now been two weeks since I’ve heard from him and I can tell you, those two weeks have been filled with a myriad of emotions. I keep waiting for one emotion to outweigh all the others, so that I can feel stable and feel like I’ve resolved the situation. However, I’ve determined I am a ways out from that place. And as I thought more about it, I decided that perhaps this is natural. Perhaps this is what a real break-up is like. And maybe there are others out there who can relate to this hourly zig zag of emotions. So I decided to write about it. You tell me if you’ve been here before…
I’m angry. I’m really fucking angry. And I don’t just mean about the break up. I am mad about all the shitty things he did along the way that I forgave because I was attempting to show grace and understanding. I’m angry for all the times I’ve cried over him (it’s an astonishing amount of times) and I’m annoyed that I can’t listen to John Legend’s, All of Me, without wanting to cry again. I’m angry that he lied to me, on more than one occasion. I’m angry that I had to listen to his constant stories about how his sad little ex was trying to get back with him, “and how it was never going to happen.” I’m mad that he tried to control what I shared on Facebook, when I tagged him, what caption I put, etc. And I hate that on the three occasions that I attempted to break up with him, he always managed to reel me back in. But mostly, I am so angry at myself. I’m furious with myself for allowing this guy to disrespect me, to control me, and to make me feel so small. I’m disappointed with myself for being reeled back in, and I’m angry that I wasn’t strong enough to say, yes the good times are the best times, but they come with this big-ass, pile of shit and I deserve better than that.
But I’m not just angry. I am also very sad. This is the first guy in my entire life that I could actually see a real future with. We’d talked about how we are such a power couple and how we fit so well together and I loved that vision of us growing old. I could picture our Upper West Side townhouse, and us walking the kids to school with our golden retriever. I could imagine us continuing our fabulous dates, even when we were old and married and I could equally picture us spending time together at home, making dinner, reading in bed and cleaning up after the gorgeous little blonde kiddos. And now, to know that none of that is going to happen makes me so insanely sad.
But it’s not just the future I miss. I miss him. I miss his big, strong arms around me, the way he’d pick me up, and how he’d hold my hand when we strolled around his neighborhood on one of our coffee walks. I miss the way he smiled at me, looking at me like I was just this funny, amazing little thing that he didn’t quite know what to do with. I miss his sarcasm, our witty text conversations and the ridiculously, amazing sex. But most of all, I miss the connection. I loved how close we became, how familiar he was to me and the feeling that he really, truly knew me — the real me. So yea, I’m fucking sad for the loss of all of it.
I’m also embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that he stood me up for this wedding and that I told ALL my friends how incredibly thrilled I was to be bringing him. When the bride texted me last week (having heard a rumor of our split) and asked if he was still coming, I wanted to throw up. How do I answer that? I assume he’s not coming since he isn’t talking to me, but he hasn’t really told me one way or the other… embarrassment doesn’t begin to explain that feeling.
I’m suspicious. Perhaps he never meant a word he said to me. Perhaps he’s been fucking other girls all along, and was just playing me for a damn fool. Or perhaps he’s now back together with the ex “who was never going to be the ONE…” and I was just a very long pause in their relationship. Sometimes I even think, perhaps he’s secretly gay…It’s New York, these things happen. I can’t help but wonder and question so much of the past 8 months given how it ended because, frankly, it just doesn’t add up.
I’m numb. Some hours I just feel nothing. It’s like this break-up happened to someone else and all I have is this foggy, empty feeling. The idea of loving someone else is unfathomable, but I can’t really remember loving him either. It’s like it was all a dream and now that I woke up, I just feel numb.
And of course, from time to time I find myself feeling vindictive. I won’t lie, I have thought of several elaborate revenge schemes, many of which involve calling his ex girlfriend. Part of me wants to show him he fucked with the wrong girl and that unlike all of his other ex-girlfriends, I am not going to sit around and mope, waiting for him to change his mind. You screw me, I’ll screw you right back, asshole. But ultimately, I fear I am just a bit too classy to act on any of these, which sucks because it would be really fun to make him feel 1/8th as shitty as I have been feeling.
But then, there are moments of zen where I just feel so grateful. I am grateful that I had my first “adult” relationship, even if it wasn’t always easy. I’m grateful that I fell in love and that he got me over D, who I haven’t seen in a year (despite the fact that he has rather consistently tried to get me to hang out with him every time I’ve been home). I’m grateful for the many, many elaborate, expensive and lovely dates we went on. No matter what, the day we spent yachting on the Hudson River will always be one of my favorite New York days, and I am grateful for that memory. I appreciate how much he taught me about what I want and what I don’t want, and how he forced me to grow. And honestly, I am somewhat grateful for the way he ended things with me. By being such an incredible douche he’s given me a reason to hate him, which will make moving on just a bit easier.
Last but not least, there is just this teeny, tiny portion of me that feels hopeful. I’m hopeful that getting myself out of this shitty situation will make room for something good. And I can’t help but think that if it can be that wonderful with a guy who isn’t the right guy for me, then imagine how amazing it will be when I am with someone who is.
So that’s where I’m at right now. Am I dealing with this break-up flawlessly? Definitely not. But I am handling it the best way I know how, and I think there’s some beauty in that. That being said, if you have any break-up pointers/tips and tricks, I am all ears. Feel free to leave me your pearls of wisdom in the comments.