Today has been 48 hours exactly since I last met with my now ex boyfriend to tell him that I needed a break from the relationship. When I walked away with nothing more than feelings of guilt and uncomfortableness, I didn't quite expect for it to hurt after. The first day after the 'break' I felt almost elated with my newfound freedom and single status, all the while berating myself for having made it a "break" and not a final end to the relationship, for closure's sake. He also did not seem to be keen on calling it a "break"; to him, this was the end. I didn't even clarify with him whether this was the case, and I wonder whether I should have been more clear about it being a break or the end.
But at the time, it just felt like I wanted out. I had become so hurt and frustrated over the course of the relationship, with fights and arguments that ranged from the moment we met to this past weekend, two years later, when he expressed how upset he had felt because I did not write anything on his valentine's day card and had not given him as many gifts as he had to me. And I quote him on this. It was a small thing, now that I take a step back and analyze the situation and event that snowballed into the end of a relationship. But under my count, there had been too many of these already. A second break up in less than a month and both having been initiated by me. He came back to my place the first time instead of driving back to Mexico, after I met with him at a Starbucks parking lot to "discuss things" when it blew up again into a competition to be heard, which meant speaking over each other and raising voices. Of course, it all went down the shit hole and I said I wanted to break it off. Things wouldn't work out and I was done. He stormed out of my car and slammed the door, I skidded out like a road-raged hormonal teenager. But he came back, when he realized I wasn't going to be going back, and when he realized I really did not have any intentions of calling him. I cried in bed for a bit, being consoled by my sister before I got a message that he wanted me to come out. We made up the next day. Life went on. Another fight, exactly two weeks later. Arguments and attacks, victimized thinking, all through facebook. It was hell.
We cannot handle conflict and we cannot handle each other it seems. And long distance? It ain't easy.
And I hate myself for actually feeling something because I was the one who had gone into his car in the Burger King parking lot in Mexico and watched him break down into tears when I told him that my intentions were not fix things. I had gone there to throw in the towel. He threw a Zales' card with 3 numbers written on them. The item numbers that he had already chosen, with the help of a male friend and a female friend. This was his "Get Out of Jail Free" card. I asked him if he felt that an engagement ring would solve the issues we were already having, if getting married and moving in together would help us manage the conflicts and the fights. He didn't respond. He said the distance had been affecting us, so from his perspective, marriage would be the end of the current issues we were having. He asked if there was no chance of us working out again, to give it one more shot. He must have detected my uncertainty and change of mind. I had walked in confident that I wanted to end it all. Part of me still wanted even after the tears and the continued last desperate attempts to keep me in. I told him that I wanted a break. He asked, "so then it's over?" I nodded. I didn't want to tell him that I was considering getting back together with him after this break, which I didn't specify how long it would be. In all honesty, I didn't want him to keep his hopes up and expect to be right back together after I was done gathering up my peace of mind and sanity.
I do miss him, it's only been two days. But, I frequently ask myself if I miss the idea of him and not so much what I actually had in the real world with him. It's sad, but the bad moments stand out more to me, most likely because we have had more of them with constant fighting and arguments, most of them getting overtly dramatic and manipulative; ladden with ultimatums and assumptions that one of us was about to end the relationship. Those moments, the ones with the hours and days of fighting and arguing over facebook chat, are painful to look at. These are hours and even days long fighting that switched from shitty skype connections to messages to expensive long-distance telephone calls. When the telephone conversations lost control, we hung up, more pissed than ever, and I had to typically wait two or three days before I would drive up to Mexico to see him and "work things out." Things were worked out, and they lasted for about two more weekend visits before something broke again. It had been an ongoing cycle since day one. It may be me. It may be both of us. Maybe we just never were compatible.
And when I miss him, I ask myself: Do I *miss* all of the other things too?