It’s always extremely humbling when something you were so sure about doesn’t go according to plan. Whether it’s a game, an audition or a relationship, it’s never a good feeling to be wrong. It’s like wearing the losing team’s jersey long after the game is over. Everyone knows things didn’t exactly go your way which, as a Bengals fan, is pretty much every NFL Sunday of my life. And then I’m stuck wearing orange and black which really doesn’t do much for my skin tone so it’s a real lose-lose situation. There’s a certain sense of pride when you put your mind, heart and faith into something. When that something lets you down, it’s downright tragic.
Breakups are so surreal. This person who was once your other half slowly becomes a stranger. It all seems like a movie because how do you go from talking to someone every day to never again? It’s uncanny. Unlike movies, however, closure isn’t always a guarantee. Sometimes things end mid-scene. Your safe haven, your best friend and your hand to hold somehow became the very reason for your unhappiness, your self-doubt and your tears. That first kiss, all the laughter and your heart’s content seem like a distant dream from a galaxy far far away- because who doesn’t want a Star Wars cantina and a light saber post breakup? Forget the cantina, I’ll just take a Coors and a light saber. Like I’ve always said, cheap date.
There are all kinds of breakups. My most recent breakup was the kind where things got so awful and disrespectful, that I had to break up with myself which was an unfortunate highlight of 2016. It’s the equivalent of kicking yourself while you’re down which is not only extremely difficult but visually psychotic. I highly recommend it if you have a thing for Shakespearean tragedy or you have that disease where you’re incapable of processing human emotion. Personally, I would rather eat a bowl of unseasoned rocks than ever go through that again.
There were some crimson flags but I kept telling myself no one is perfect. I’m certainly not. He wasn’t on any kind of social media, so I assumed he was either a con-artist, a serial killer or I was truly the luckiest girl in the world. I obviously ran with the latter. I didn’t exactly make it easy in the beginning. I wasn’t particularly looking for a relationship and found his interest in me annoying, to be honest. He hung on though, which spoke volumes to me because no one had tried to hang on for years. With time, I learned to hang on to him too. He was a safe place.
Time also showed me that he was a safe place much like the island in Lost. What started out as one tiny lie grew into a complex labyrinth of a hundred more which triggered my distrust and insecurities to come out in full armor. He borrowed money…lots of money. While I’m sure several of you are rolling your eyes, thinking what a dum-dum. Shut up! I thought he was my person, okay? (Lesson learned, no family pictures or money lending until AFTER the ceremony. Check!) One chunk was for a security deposit which I later found out he also borrowed money from his parents for…it was like, well what are you doing with YOUR money?
Wait for it, it gets better. Then he took his tax return, the money he said he was going to use to start paying me back, and put a down payment on a BMW. Granted, he needed a car-I’m not a monster, but there was no conversation or consideration. I should have run for the hills then but instead I cried from behind my sunglasses in the happiest place on earth. I wish I was kidding and I am only now beginning to appreciate the ironic hilarity of me crying about financials and a dishonest boyfriend while trying to eat lunch in Disneyland. Maybe I was dating a con artist after all. Even still, I unbelievably had a shred of faith left. I kept holding on. I blame Wilson Phillips.
Granted, I did my part as well but keep in mind they certainly weren’t equal parts. I may have read some emails that weren’t intended for me but they were inappropriate none the less. It’s not something I’m proud of but I also have to admit to my wrongdoings. Between that and him texting in his closet, I’m not an idiot. Somehow, in his eyes, my speculation trumped anything he had done. I felt like the woman in Shaggy’s song It Wasn’t Me. It was like, yeah I know I’m not technically supposed to be here right now, but I am…so what the %#!* is that?
If someone you love has ever made you feel insignificant then you know it’s easier to assume they never loved you at all because the idea that they might have and then woke up one morning and changed their mind is enough to crush every artery in your body. So I did what I had to do and I broke up with myself because he wouldn’t…even though his every action and every word implied that is what he wanted. I was still in love but I was being treated like I meant nothing. I kept hanging on and all he was doing was letting go. The man I loved watched me walk away and the man I’m going to love would never let that happen. My man is a warrior. I need a Jon Snow or a Princess Bride Westley. Future man prototypes, just putting that in the universe.
Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different or I’ll try to pinpoint the exact moment he gave up on me. Mostly, I just want all of my feelings and my money back. We are all going to be proven wrong sometimes. It may be something small and obscure that no one else will notice or it might be something colossal you’ve announced to the world, but it will happen and it’s OKAY. That path was not meant for these feet. The lyrics ‘sometimes love just ain’t enough’ make more and more sense the older I get. The Beatles disagree, singing ‘love is all you need’. So eff Republicans and Democrats, I think the next national debate should be Patty Smyth v Paul McCartney. Until then, I imagine it will all make sense one day…when I finally get it right…❤️