“But you called it off didn’t you? It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” My friend was right, I did call it off with M. But I’m still not sure it’s what I wanted. I didn’t want things to end this way, but I know I needed to do it.
We all know they aren’t necessarily the same.
The glimpses of kindness, sandwiched between derogatory comments thinly veiled as jokes and unsaid apologies were not enough anymore. I wonder if I knew him at all, the man who could never be honest with me. I had hoped so much that he was different, the first person I’ve liked in such a long time. But he was exactly the person he said he wasn’t.
When he told me he had a girlfriend, I kept asking him what he’d do in my situation. “You like asking that”, he said to me. I did, not only because I didn’t think he’d genuinely put up with all that shit if the shoe were on the other foot, but because people don’t understand how their actions hurt others. Not until it’s too late, anyway.
It’s why I said “fuck off” in my own polite way. To tell him it wasn’t my fault he couldn’t see my worth beyond being second best.
He gave me no reason to stay, so I left.
Sure, it is a little easier because I held the bargaining chips this time. But it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. There’s little reminders of him in places I wasn’t looking. You know, when you start seeing things that remind you of an ex as soon as you don’t talk to them anymore. Doesn’t that always seem to be the way? Someone with his (unusual) name trending on Twitter, shout outs to his hometown, and even a film trailer with his hometown in the title. Then there’s all the messages, call history and photos on my phone. I’m not ready to let that go yet. The list goes on.
But time heals all wounds. It will get easier. Positivity attracts positivity. And until then, I’m going to retail therapy the shit out of this.