You would think, after four decades on this planet, I would have mastered the art of the breakup. I envision one where we act like adults, say what needs to be said and no one walks away hurt. Sadly, I think this resolution is possible only in my dreams. Instead, I took the spineless way out and ended it with a text. I’m appalled at myself. With my 20/20 hindsight, I realize that I should have at least done it over the telephone; 2.5 months does not necessarily require a face-to-face, but it does warrant more than a 3 sentence text.
Everything I wrote to him and the feelings I have today are more than a little reminiscent of my Ex’s breakup with me. Am I no better? There really is no good way to accomplish the task.
This guy SHOULD have been a good catch for me. He was attractive and fit, kind and considerate, virile and gainfully employed, but I just never fell head-long for him. I should want to see him the last moment before I depart on a trip and the first thing when I return. We were apart for 2.5 weeks and I almost canceled on him this Saturday (I had already cancelled twice earlier this week). I should be begging for him to spend the night so I can wrap my body in his when, in fact, I felt relief when he said he had to go home. I know the depth of affection I’m capable of feeling – and I just couldn’t evoke it for him.
I realized that it’s not fair to continue – not to him by faking feelings as he becomes more entangled nor to myself but cutting myself off from other possible alternatives, convincing myself that “this” is better than nothing.
Regardless of whether I think I did the right thing (which I do), I still feel awful for having to do it.