Yesterday, after almost nine months of being together, I broke up with my boyfriend.
It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t a very long relationship. It doesn’t matter that he was 13 years younger than me. It doesn’t matter that we were so vastly different from each other in so many ways. It doesn’t matter that we were never right for each other. It doesn’t matter that we said hurtful words to each other that cannot be taken back.
What matters right now is the pain is still very real. What matters is that despite all of the reasons we shouldn’t be together, I still miss him, and it hurts. Badly. What matters is that his scent is still on his towel hanging by the shower. What matters is that I can’t go one minute without thinking of him, the memories we made, the feel of his body next to mine, his goofy smiles, his bright blue eyes, his quick retorts, his intelligence, the sweet words and promises he had said at one time or another, and all the other wonderful qualities he had.
Because despite all the qualities he displayed that were not at all to my liking, that I could not get past, it’s all those good ones that keep replaying on a loop in my head and never allowing my eyes to stay dry and unpuffy. All the memories and routines we created, all the jokes we shared, our conversations, every. single. thing. comes rushing back, glorified or exaggerated into something so exquisite and unique that it becomes cherished, and then ultimately, sharp and excruciatingly painful.
Don’t get me wrong, we stood no chance at “forever”. I truly believe that. I believed it from about a month or so after we decided we were “official girlfriend/boyfriend.” That’s when our differences really started to show their faces. That’s when he convinced me that opposites do attract and it would be work, but he didn’t want give up because of a couple of road blocks. And I went along for the bumpy ride.
It was more than just a few minor road blocks, though. Truly. We are talking immovable boulders that were constantly having to be ignored and gone around. They became so numerous and large that it was taking more time to ignore and detour than the time we could enjoy ourselves on the smooth asphalt.
But again, none of that matters right now. It doesn’t matter because there’s still grieving to be done. Grieving of what was and what maybe, perhaps, super small chance, could have been.
So what does matter right now is the deafening sound of silence in the house. What matters is the sour pit in my stomach that won’t allow me to eat, and barely lets me drink. What matters is that the person I want to talk to the most at a time like this is my boyfriend, who is now my ex-boyfriend, and the only one I can’t talk to. What matters is that I am also grieving the loss of another companion of mine; his dog, Godiva.
Unfortunately, I have been through this before. I’ve been through worse, frankly. I’ve been through a separation that was so shocking and painful, I was scared if I went to sleep, I wouldn’t wake up. I was terrified that I would never feel “normal” again. I went through it and came out the other side so much happier and grateful that it almost seemed silly how depressed I had felt in the beginning. So I know it will be the same this time around. I know it is for the best, and this will not be a regret, just a lesson, and a relationship that I will look back on without any pain at all. I know it’s just a matter of time.
But that doesn’t matter right now.