Not the kind I love eating the morning after thanksgiving. The harsh, drastic kind of cutting yourself off from an addiction, or in my case infatuation.
Last weekend, I asked him, “What if I didn’t want to see you anymore?” I know it hurt him for me to say that. I wanted him to know it was for my own betterment, not because I didn’t want to keep spending time with him. The time we spent together last weekend… it was amazing and intense. I had a chance to tell him why things hurt, and how I know I’m going to get past this pain with time. I begged him to say something, but he couldn’t form the words. I could read the pain in his eyes. I could feel his emotions, not wanting me to leave, and yet helpless and empty-handed, knowing he didn’t have anything to give me. I laid my head on his chest and he held me tighter than ever before, both of us wishing that could be enough to keep us together.
Tonight, he called me when I least expected it. My heart jumped, half out of excitement, half panicked. I was having a perfectly good time until he called. I had survived the mushy romances of the Sex and the City Movie, without thinking about him. And then he called, just to say “what’s up” and it tugged at my heartstrings uncontrollably. I decided it was necessary to cut off the phone calls too. Its just too hard.
The good news is that its getting easier to tell people that our relationship is kaputz. Today I showed up at the bar, and my friend asked, “Where’s the man with the pink shirt?” After I told him I broke up with him, my friend asked, “Are you happy?” and I replied, “Not yet, but I will be.”