I'm a little slow today. I just switched to Sanka. So...have a heart?

Monday, April 03, 2006

I got dumped.

Yup. Sunday night at 11 p.m., right after Grey's Anatomy, I got dropped like a hot rock.

Crazy. I think I'm still in shock. I know I precipitated it, by acting like Andy Capp's wife to my Andy Capp (ex)boyfriend, but I thought accusing him of alcoholism was charming and endearing.

Apparently not.

Oh well. This too, shall pass, I suppose. At least the gossip circuits will be lighting up with the news.

It just came right out of left field... after we spent a nice weekend together... right before I was going to go to bed, and just after I finished ironing a shirt, BOOM! Cut. Off.

Now, it's not like we had a fantastic relationship...he was an old dog, I was disapprovingly trying to teach him new tricks, but I only had his best interests at heart. Still, we managed to muddle together for 2.5 years (probably because of his extended absences). I had broken up with him in the past, but once, I relented to his begging, and the second time, it was just...not good timing, so I recanted.

This time, I'm pretty sure it's for good, and it's very strange. We were sort of like salt and pepper shakers... Opposites, but complimentary.

I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I just looked at him and said, "Okay," and started packing up my stuff. I was accused of being too casual, which popped the cork off my bottled fury at being dumped nine hours before I had to be at work, and four days before I had to take the Federal Bar. Because I'd still like to be friends with my ex-boyfriend, after I get over this breakup, I tried to rein in my fury, because 1) it would have been unseemly, and I was not going to have any super-dramatic displays of emotion, and 2) because I know I would have said something I would have regretted.

As it was, I couldn't resist getting in one last dig as my parting words to him. Although it was the truth, I sort of regret it. But just barely. I hope he chews them over for a good, long time.

All told, the relationship had basically stagnated, and if he hadn't left in December, I have doubts as to whether we would have made it through January. Absence does make the heart grow fonder...or at least more tolerant for the daily offenses and thoughtless acts, and a person becomes romanticized. I deserve better, and I know it. Nevertheless, I still love him, and if he came begging me to get back together with him, the only reason I wouldn't do it is out of pride, and not for not wanting to.

I wasn't disputing the break-up. It needed to be done, and I was too lazy and too complacent to drop the other shoe. I don't want to have to get out there and find someone new, and, for right now, I won't. I just need to let this sink in. Two and a half years is a really long time. For me it's the equivalent to my entire life. Two and a half years ago, I was just starting my second year in law school. We had many high highs, and many low lows. I don't regret the relationship one bit, as co-dependent as it was. I will miss him terribly, and I do hope to remain friends with him. It's just so hard, though, because even though the passion drained a long time ago, there's just been this level of comfort with him. I could let my guard down a little with him. Not totally, but more than I have with any other person. Right now, all I want is a snuggle. He is cuddly and warm, and I know every inch of him from his eyelashes to his toenails. He was a nice bed-buddy, and we were good sidekicks. He got along with my friends, and I with his.

I want him to press his nose into my neck, and annoyingly nose whistle in my ear, while the smell of Burt's Bees Carrot night cream permeates my hair. I will miss the way in the morning, when I kissed his eyelids to wake him up, he would get this closed-eyed chin out smile, that reminded me of a Boston Terrier. I will really miss the little things that he did that bugged the shit out of me. Like kissing my ears while exhaling, from his nose, deafening me. And I wonder, why that is one of the things that so vividly comes to mind right now.

I really don't know how I'm going to get through this. I know I will, and blah blah. As Death Cab for Cutie says, "I cannot pretend, that I felt any regret, because each broken heart will eventually mend." And I know it's true. And I know this is for the best. And this is something that half of me has really wanted for about a year... to be out of this relationship.

But there's obviouly been more good than bad on the scales for me, such that I stuck through it, despite all the red-flags, and the reasons why I would have cut anyone else loose a loooong time ago. I even managed to get past the fact that for the first few months we were dating, he had horrible B.O. Despite that fact, I was willing to give it a shot. And I really even think I cured him of that. If he took anything away from being with me, I guess I know that in July, he'll wear deodorant.

I know I'm not prize sometimes, either, just to be clear. I'm sure sometimes I can be stinky. I can be stubborn and difficult, and judgmental and passive aggressive. I can be cold and I can be argumentative. And somehow, he brought out those characteristics in me. Oftentimes, he made me behave like a spoiled 10-year-old. But he also helped me pull the stick out of my ass sometimes, and just have fun.

He was my first love, and I guess I always figured that we'd break up when we didn't love each other anymore. And I know he still loves me, which makes it even harder, because this time, love was simply not enough. The Beatles were very, very wrong.

I'm going to bleed for a while on this one. I don't want to be moony and depressed, and right now I am just so furious that he did this on a Sunday night. I had always tried to spare him unnecessary pain or drama (oftentimes unsuccessfully), but I really feel like I got the wind knocked out of me. I know he doesn't have a job, and to him, Monday is just another day that ends in "y," but today was really brutal at work. I'm drafting shit for a $15 Million contract deal, and I can't concentrate on anything. I didn't tell anyone what was wrong, but my secretary kept needling me about it until I wanted to kill her. I ended up taking five minutes for lunch, because she was droning about how her weekend was bad because she got in a fight with her sister.

I could have killed her, as I choked down my Vaca Frita, and thought about how my life rhythms would be disrupted again, only for good.

I'm going to get over it. I will be fine.