This was a post I was hoping I would never have to write.
Although being broken up with sucks, it does come with a sense of closure that can feel comforting. We met in person, discussed the valid and logical reasons why it wasn’t working, cried, hugged, and said goodbye. I blocked him from all of my social media, and it began to feel like getting over him wouldn’t be as terrible as I thought it would be.
Last night, I was stood up on a date in the most bizarre way possible (see my Instagram stories for details). Now, I am POSITIVE it is too soon for me to be dating anyway. However, that is and has always been the way I get over people: by getting under someone else. I am not saying that is the right way, it’s just what I do and what I know.
Nothing takes a shot at your self-esteem quite like sitting alone in a bar calling someone you are supposed to go on a date with continuously until they block your number. In that moment, my ex (we call him J) not only didn’t seem so bad, but he seemed like the one person I needed at the moment. I wanted to feel loved and attractive and cared for. So, I did the worst possible thing I could have done: texted him and asked to come over. Although he pushed back a little bit, warning me that it sounded like a bad idea, it didn’t take much for him to agree.
Seeing J reminded me of the Kacey Musgraves song, “Happy and Sad”. On the one hand I felt like I slid back into the most comforting and loving relationship I have ever known. All of the reasons we broke up didn’t even seem to make sense to me anymore. If something feels this good, how could it be so wrong? On the other hand, after we had sex he made sure to clarify, “This doesn’t change anything”. I felt heartbroken all over again and in an even more painful way than before.
When I woke up this morning and he pulled me close, I realized it would be the last time I felt that familiar sense of intimacy. It reminded me that this person had made his decision and was sticking to it. When I kissed J goodbye as he left for work, as I had done so many mornings before, I once again realized that this would be the last time.
I walked to our favorite breakfast place, ordered the large coffee he always made fun of me for ordering (because I take two sips and forget about it), and cried. I cried because I still love him, I cried because I hate him, I cried because I felt stupid, used, confused, and like I will never truly get over this person and the way he makes me feel.
I wish I could conclude this post by tying it up in a pretty little bow, but sometimes perfect closure just isn’t possible. I am learning that the hard way.














