The reason why Muffin is crying

So remember how my last post was all “Oh, 21 is so fabulous and we had such a great weekend and I’m absolutely stupid for him. SQUEEEEEEEE GIRL NOISES”?

Yeah, that doesn’t count anymore.

He invited himself over to my house after work on Monday. That’s how I knew something was up. He’s never done that before. Starting at 11 AM on that morning, I knew that he was going to end it. I didn’t think he was coming over to celebrate our anniversary early (I mean, not that I made a big deal about it, I just casually mentioned it in passing), but I had hope.

Hope was not enough. He came over around 8:45. 21 asked me to step outside with him. And then, in case I had any doubt, I knew for sure that he was going to tell me that he didn’t want to do this anymore.

He looked straight at me and told me that he didn’t feel like he used to do. He apologized for doing what he was doing and told me that he was a terrible person. I told him that he wasn’t. He told me I was one of the most awesome people he knew and he really liked spending time with me. He asked if in time, we could be friends. That’s when I fell apart. He was crying by that point too. I hugged him. Probably harder than I should. He apologized again and told me that he couldn’t stay. He got in his car and drove away.

Then I went in the house and I sobbed. Which is what I did for all of Monday night and most of Tuesday morning. My eyes were so swollen and hurt so bad from all the crying that I couldn’t get my contacts in. I woke up at 4 AM and couldn’t get back to sleep. Tuesday I was a wreck. I cried a lot. But Wednesday and Thursday, I kept my tears to a minimum. Last night I lost it in my cousin’s kitchen, while telling her what happened.

I knew that Fridays would be hard, as I spent most Friday nights at 21’s house. We would go out or stay in and watch a movie, but whatever we did, we laughed the whole time. He would hold my hand while we sat on the couch. He’d tell me how pretty I looked, even with my nerdy glasses on. And on Saturday mornings, he would get up and make us some sort of epic breakfast. He’d bring me coffee in bed, sometimes with advil if I had a hangover. 21 made me hot chocolate to take with me to the shelter on days that it was cold. He’d walk me to the car and kiss me and tell me that he had a wonderful night and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

Last night I realized none of those things would happen again. And it hurt. I know this could have been so much worse. We could have been madly in love. We could have been living together. We weren’t. In the end, my heart is bruised, not broken. But it doesn’t take the sting out of it. This entire thing blindsided me. I had no idea that he felt less for me than he did. True, he was talking to me less during the day, but I figured that was because he was working hard and didn’t have time to talk. I didn’t know it was because the passion he used to feel for me wasn’t there anymore.

In all honesty, I don’t think this is over. I think there’s parts of this story that still need to unfold. I was supposed to meet all his friends this weekend (they all live in Boston) when they came to visit him for his birthday. He mentioned that they were excited to meet me. But I was not there. I have a feeling that tonight or tomorrow, he’s going to come back around and say something.

Then again – maybe he won’t. And that’s okay. I don’t expect that he’s going to do that. I am not holding out for it, as I might have done in the past. He made the choice to end things. He knows that he made a mistake – I know that just from the way he was acting on Monday night. He realizes that I’m awesome – mostly because I am. The worst part is that I’m not even upset with him. I’m just so disappointed. I expected better from him. I expected to be able to see the signs when he thought he didn’t like me. But instead, he was going away with me to Vermont and making plans to meet his friends and talking about my friend’s weddings that I was going to. We talked about calling out of sick of work one nice day and going to the Bronx Zoo. We discussed further long weekends in Vermont. We talked about other things that were way far in advance – but we both knew that we liked each other. Or at least I thought we did. In the end, I guess that wasn’t the case.

I’ve grown up a lot with this relationship. When Alex and I ended everything, I went a little crazy. I couldn’t understand what was going on. But now, I realize it’s nothing to do with me. If someone doesn’t like me, there’s nothing I can do to convince them that yes, they want to be with me. They need to realize that on their own. And if they don’t? Then I’m not supposed to be with that person. I want to be with a person that wants to be with me. I had that wonderful, happy relationship for a while. It was perfect. And while 21 did do things from time to time that made me a little annoyed with him, the first really shitty thing that he did was tell me that he didn’t want to continue the relationship with me.

I’m going to give myself some time to be sad. I’m going to mourn what I had because I should. What I had was great. He was great. It’s over now and I can accept that. So I will give myself time to cry. I’ll allow myself to be upset over stupid things (like crying hysterically in the car when this song came on). I’m going to think of all the good moments that we had and I won’t forget them or let them become tainted by my sadness. I’m going to be sad for a while. I’m going to go into boy detox again. When I’m ready, I’ll start dating again. When I’m completely over him, I’ll try something new. I don’t know when that will be, but I know that I’m in no rush to ruin a relationship with anyone due to my inability to let the last one go. Maybe 21 and I will be friends in time. We did always have so much fun together.

Bruised, not broken. I just need to keep on saying that. My heart is bruised and not broken.

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