The Real Break Up Post
I guess this is it. This is the post where I unveil it all, what happened between us. This is when it becomes real, permanent, over. This is the real break-up post.
I bet you all saw it coming. My then-boyfriend and I were stuck in a situation where he was unhappy and I was unhappy because he was unhappy. I was dating my girlfriend, falling in love with her, and meanwhile all of that romance my then-boyfriend and I had was slipping away. We still love each other, we still know each other better than almost anyone else, we were still committed, but we had turned into best friends. We turned into two people who wanted to squeeze blood from a rock. We want different futures, or at least different visions of the future, right now. He wants planning, I want ambiguity. I want him in my college town with me, he has to stay there. If we lived in the same place and I hadn’t fallen in love with my girlfriend we could have fixed it, but even if he was here, if I was still with her not much would have changed. We still would have broken up.
Two years. Two of the best years of my life. The best birthday since I was a kid, the first college road trip, the best bands discovered, the best TV shows, the best movies, the best late night conversations, the best car rides, the best trips into the city and the first time I felt ready for that scary future stuff, for becoming an adult, for that true, serious love. Two years of working and waiting and planning–left only to memory.
What am I supposed to say? I love him. I wanted it to work so badly…I didn’t chose to fall in love with my girlfriend, just like I didn’t chose to be bisexual or fall out of romantic love with him. It just happened. My brain chose one path and my heart chose another. And it makes me so so sad, because he was my family, my best friend, my whole world. And then the world changed. I guess I changed.
Fred. That’s what I’m going to call him, after two years of simply referring to him as “my boyfriend”. I thought I’d never have to give him a name, that “my boyfriend” would remain stable until it one day became “my husband”. But now I guess he belongs to the list of ex-boyfriends, so a name is needed. I wish I could call him by his real name, because I love it so much, and it is the perfect description and explanation for everything he is and does. He is one of the best people I have ever met, if not the best, and I blew it. I let the world, my heart, tear us a part. He was nothing but kind to me, and I wandered. Why did I do that? How could I do that?
I have no regrets. But this isn’t the life I wanted for myself, this isn’t what I prepared for. I feel relief that I’m no longer stringing him along in my indecision, but I feel so much pain that it’s over. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be with my girlfriend and I love her very much, and I’m excited about the next few months we will share together. I’m just also sad, that’s all. It will be such a long, arduous process to get over Fred, if that’s even possible.
We’ve decided to remain best friends, and keep our mutual friends mutual. We both agreed right away that breaking up our relationship should not include destroying a place for each other in our lives, because after two years it is unthinkable to live pretending like we never happened. So I’m glad to have him in that respect.
My life has only the vaguest outline of a direction. Once my dad and brother find out I am bisexual my family won’t be much of a family. My girlfriend leaves for Costa Rica in August and I still don’t know what will happen to our relationship when she does. My friendships and either physically or emotionally distant (or, in the case of my roommate, hopefully healing from my many absences). My mental health is a toss up. School is coming to a close. My boyfriend is now my best friend, and I can’t be with him in the same way anymore.
I guess I’m holding it together pretty alright, considering. But mostly, right now I’m caught up between stress, sadness, and happiness, and numbness. I don’t know…I don’t know what to say anymore.