Monday, December 14, 2009

a breakup because it's broken

So today I was thinking about breakups. My first ever boyfriend broke up with me on our one year anniversary. Six hours after he admitted to forgetting about said anniversary. Oh, and he broke up with me over the phone since he was away at college and didn't know when we'd next see each other. See, I would have thought that my first reaction would be to beg him to change his mind. He was, after all, my first love. However, this was not the case. I proceeded to tell him that he was only breaking up with me so that he could go have random sex and that he shouldn't come crawling back to me after he'd contracted his first in a series of sexually transmitted diseases.

My anger could not be quelled. I slammed the phone down, stomped up to my room and proceeded to slam my desk chair wheels over the sweet, sappy mixed CD that he'd made me for our six month anniversary. Then.. I cried. I cried in the arms of my friend who rushed over after a cryptic, hysterical call. I cried into the phone to my best friend. I cried into my mom's lap until she pried my hands off of her and tried to get me to sleep. I cried into the morning and my parents didn't fight me when I asked not to go to school. I picked myself up, got myself back together, and 11 days later, I went out for my 18th birthday, got nice and drunk and made out with a very nice, upstanding gentleman at the bar.

The night that we broke up I cried so hard that I promised myself that I would never, EVER react that way to another breakup. Easier said than done, right? Suuuure. Fast forward to September 2007 when I got dumped by the dude who peed on my foot in the shower. In this super scenario, he started the breakup process over the phone. While I was at work. So I left work so we could continue the conversation. He's a huge freaking wimp, so he was unable to say the words "I want to break up" so I said them for him. I did all of the crying and relationship mourning and didn't go to work the next day because my face swelled up to where I was nearly unrecognizable. Pretty picture, right?

The next night, I got a phone call at midnight, from him. But it was not him on the phone, it was a girl. And she wanted if we were still together because if we are, then they "tooootally shouldn't have made out". When he realized what she'd done, he proceeded to hang up the phone on me and this is where I went a bit psycho. I called about ... forty-three times until I got his shitfaced drunken self on the phone. The next day, my face was even more swollen and I swore, once again, that I would never, EVER let any relationship shatter me like this ever again.

Fast forward to.. well.. a little over two weeks ago. This time, I didn't freak out, I didn't destroy things, I didn't call over and over again until he finally picked up. Of course I cried. A lot, if I'm being honest here. I called my good friends, near and far, and they talked to me until I finally started to feel better. I woke up the next morning, put a cold compress on my face and dragged my ass to work. In that past it's always been easier to say "Fuck it, I hate him, I never want to talk to him again." But this time, there's no hate. There's no anger. There's sadness because it's hard to let go of someone who's been a big part of your life. But, deep down I know that it was for the best and at the end of the day, I'm always going to be okay.

So maybe I'm getting more mature and am able to deal with my emotions better when it come to breakups? Yeaaa the sad reality is that I'm likely just getting used to being dumped. Womp, womp. Hey, at least I can have a sense of humor about things!

Holy crap, that was pretty cheesy, wasn't it? And I realize a little bit of a Carrie Bradshaw-esque wanna-be blog entry. So... yea.. sorry about that. I promise that tomorrow's blog entry will be decidedly less serious.

Can't you see the resemblance?
I mean, if I had blonde hair and was wearing a sweater made out of..
cat hair or something, then we'd definitely be twins


Ashlyn said...

you are every bit as fabulous as carrie bradshaw :)

Unknown said...

you are too kind, my dear :)

dogimo said...

Man. That's depressing. I was suddenly possessed by the urge to write a wise, encouraging poem to comfort you (I mean that in terms of intent, not probable effect), and it came out all bitter and cynical!

People not over their own breakups should not write poems to console other people about breakups.

I mean, I'm over it. Just not enough to be writing comforting poems.

dogimo said...

Oh - I don't mean your post is depressing! My poem effort was depressing.

It sounds like you're getting good, healthy distance on the whole thing.

Maybe try writing a poem. Gauge the over-it-ness.

Unknown said...

joe - we shall dub it "the poem test" and we can market it to people to see how much over-it-ness they have in regards to their breakup. we could be rich!

dogimo said...

I wonder when the last time poetry ever made anybody rich.

Say, speaking of poetry, you specifically requested I write you a poem over on Most Of Your Words. You know that's my "collage poetry" blog right? All the posts on there are cut-up, rearranged text.

But here you go:

Me! Giving Advice.

My regular (non-collage) poetry blog is A Pocketful Of Poesy.

Unknown said...

joe - i just teared up a little bit. no one has ever written me a poem before. i'm swooning!

dogimo said...

Well - you helped! :-D