What’d You Do Last Weekend? Me? I Got Dumped.
I got dumped. This wasn’t the first time, but I like to think it’ll be the last. I have a firm no dating unless marriage is a real possibility rule. So in all likelihood I’ll remain single for a lengthy stretch. Twenty-three is still young, but I don’t want to be that 40-something year old dude at the club, trying to pickup the freshly legalized gals. I know I’m exaggerating and being ludicrous with that worry, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it.
It’s frustrating because I really tried my best with this relationship. I had failed girlfriends in the past, but this one I considered different. I learned from the past (or so I thought), and applied special treatment in areas that I knew needed it. I felt like I worked vigorously to show this young woman love, and I always did minute things to let her know of her importance to me. In her defense, she caught me during the stormiest years of my life — but I’d rather meet my future wife now than when everything is hunky-dory. The concept I always appreciated was someone sticking around, regardless of my often empty bank account, moody tendencies and constant setbacks. I was grateful for her; I was blessed to have her love. That being said, I feel betrayed. I know I shouldn’t, because I can be a handful — but don’t we all have our flaws?
So now I’m reeling, trying to figure out what to do. It’s the early stages of the breakup — you know, the ones we all hate. I removed her from Facebook, Instagram — any social network that will update me on her life. It’s out of fear that my feed will popup with an image of her, hand-in-hand with her new beau — who’ll probably look exactly like Idris Elba. I feel like a d-ck. I’m not trying to be immature, bitter or spiteful – but it really makes it easier to not know what your ex is doing with their day. The wounds are fresh. The lack of knowledge serves as a healing ointment. It helps. At least for me it does.
I’ll lose some confidence from this. When someone you care about no longer reciprocates the love, of course your ego is bruised. I’ll be a little more awkward and anxious around people for a while, until I rebuild that poise and shake the self-consciousness. When we just get out of a relationship, it’s easy to sulk and be miserable, but there is another option. I feel like it’d be easy to sit around and be miserable for a few weeks (or months), but I’m forcing myself not to. I want to be better. As much as I’d appreciate someone to stick with me when things aren’t picture-perfect, I wouldn’t mind whoever I meet in the future to never have to deal with the version of me that’s a complete mess. There’s a sense of motivation. Motivation to never not be enough to keep someone happy again.
As I finish up my self-loathing, rambling, vent session, one thing stands out. I’ve used the word “I” about 30 times so far (not to mention ‘I’m’ and ‘I’ll’.) Maybe that’s my problem? Me, me, me — and not enough about the other person involved. Regardless of the cause of my newfound singleness, it’s too late for fixing, so there’s really no sense in assessing the possibilities… right? At least, I think it’s right.. And now that’s 31 I’s.
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A | A | A
Hope is never gone, it’s just ignored.
Get off of me don’t touch me stop touching me. Stop. Touching. Me. Stop.
It’s so hard for me not to let what other people say about me define who I am.
I should eat an entire sleeve of saltines (and a brownie).