I had been holding onto this post for a really really long time. It is finally due to be posted in its original form, although my feelings have changed since I wrote it. I thought that it would be so difficult to get over the break-up and move on, but something recently happened that really put so many things into perspective. Something that made me question why things happen in this world and how fucked up life is sometimes. I’m still trying to manage those thoughts and feelings as they are so incredibly overwhelming at the moment and there are no answers. But that is a blog post in its own right. Anyway, what happened threw me in a tailspin and I thought that St. Elmo might want to know what happened as he was always asking about my best friend. So, I emailed him. He hasn’t responded. Not even with an “I’m so sorry to hear that”. And that my friends, is what makes him cease to exist anymore in my world. If he can be that insensitive and callous toward me, then he can go fuck himself.
January 14, 2012
St. Elmo: I think we both know what we have to do. Maybe after some time apart, we can be friends.
Me: I really don’t want to be just friends.
St. Elmo: I understand.
Oh wait…you didn’t know that St. Elmo and I were still talking since we’d broken up and you want to read the final chapter so you know exactly how we got here??? Oh, okay.
For those of you new to my blog: The short of the story is St. Elmo and I started out of the gates in late 2010 with one another like a bat out of hell. Fast and furious and we fell in love and prematurely began living together. Our first break-up occurred in April. By May, we reconciled. Again, we were on the couple fast track and living together again. Then it ended in mid-October 2011. And the longest break-up in the history of break-ups went on and on and on. For three months.
The thing with me and St. Elmo…we couldn’t can’t seem to make a clean break from one another. After our romantic relationship ended (both times), we stayed in touch. Some of it was for logistical reasons. We were living together – he needed to get his stuff. Some of it was for hopeful reasons – hope that we could work it out. But most of it was because neither of us could just let go of one another.
After the October break-up, yes, we did what we should have never done. We kept in contact…through phone calls, Skype calls, texts, instant messenger, even meeting up with one another (as friends). None of those aforementioned activities were helping me get over the break-up and move on with my life. I should point out here that I was not the one reaching out to him, but vice versa. Most contact in the beginning was initiated by him.
I finally reached my breaking point when I found out that he was back on Match looking for someone new. This was a pretty devastating revelation to me. After all, we had only been broken up for a few weeks. Upon confronting him about it, he confessed that he’d been on it for a couple of weeks at that point. I’m no math genius, but three weeks minus two weeks equals one week after we broke up!!! Naturally, I flipped the fuck out. And with good reason.
By this point we’d been talking almost every day and hanging out once a week. But finding out he was trying to meet others, while keeping me *hanging in the wings* just wasn’t going to sit with me. After some thought, I decided to let him know that I can’t be his friend any longer. I was breaking up with him, breaking up our friendship. Closing that proverbial door. (Many of you will recall that my dear blogger friend, Grey, went through the same thing. I was so inspired by how she handled it, I felt I needed to do the same. Our stories ran so parallel and similar that reading her posts was like seeing my story written by someone else.)
It was one of the hardest things I have had to do when it comes to him. He’d been a part of my daily life for more than a year. And my love for him was stronger than any love I’ve ever felt before. But I just reached a point when I had to stand up and do the right thing for me.
In mid-November, I wrote him a “Dear John” email, while crying the whole time. What? You thought I could do this in person??? Psssshh, you guys don’t know me at all. I sent the email.
Two minutes after I hit send, my cell phone rang. It was St. Elmo. I didn’t pick up. I was too emotionally distraught to speak to him. Plus, I was ending our contact and that meant no contact whatsoever.
That contact ban last mere minutes. Yeah, I’m that weak. My resolve crumbles so easily when it comes to him. He is my kryptonite. But I guess I was his, too, in a way, since he couldn’t just let me go.
He replied to my friendship break-up email and as I was about to reply to that, he texted. That led to texting back and forth and eventually a phone call. We spoke on the phone for close to an hour, talking about “us” and the problems we have. This was the first time in weeks that we had talked about our relationship. As it got past midnight, we decided to end the call, but not the conversation. We would continue it another time.
We weren’t able to continue that conversation until after the Thanksgiving holiday. We didn’t come to any good conclusion on what was going on with us. Nor did we come up with any good ideas to fix things. All we did was re-hash our problems. Over and over again. And then for another month after that, we were still essentially friends. Still having daily contact. Still going out for meals or drinks together. Again, yeah, I’m that weak.
It then morphed mid-December into something that can only be described as a pseudo-relationship. A half-assed relationship. We spent a lot of time together, talked often, but there was no physical relationship. No sex, no serious kissing, though we did greet each other and say goodbye with a quick kiss on the lips. And a couple of times, he spent the night at my place, but we didn’t do more than cuddle in bed. The line had blurred big time between friendship and romantic relationship. And all the while still never figuring out how we could fix us and make it work.
For the holiday, I had a Christmas present delivered to his home. He sent my mother a holiday package. He met me at the airport when I flew home from Florida. We spent New Year’s together, just the two of us and my cat. All of this was happening, but still it was a pseudo-relationship stuck in limbo.
It took a long time, but the end came. He said something one night during another tear-filled discussion of why we can’t work. I won’t repeat it here, but it was the turning point for me. I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and going over those words and what they meant to me and how they affected me. I finally realized (jeezus, it took me long enough) that whatever was going on with us had to end. It wasn’t working for me anymore. He also came to a similar conclusion. A week later we had the conversation that took place in “the epilogue”. It went much deeper and longer than that, but that was the important part of it. I don’t know if I’ll hold to the stance of not wanting to be friends forever. Right now I have to. Ask me in 6 months and I might show total ambivalence toward him or I’ll burst out in tears because I miss him so much OR hopefully, I’ll smile and think back and have fond thoughts of him, but be glad at how my life turned out after him.
Even ten days later, it hurts to know it’s so definitively over and I miss him a lot. But now the healing process, which had been stunted by our constant contact, can begin. I had to break my own heart (and allow him to break mine again) in order for me to mend it. Now I learn to move on with my life…without him. I know I’ll be okay. And one day I’ll meet the person that will make my heart flutter again. But until then, I’m content with being who I am and working to make myself a better person and my life better for me.