Note: This starts out kind of sappy, but bear with me… it’ll get funny!
My last break up was pretty rough. All the other break ups I’ve been through have lasted mere moments in comparison. I’m a rip-off-the-Band-Aid kind of girl. I like to get it over with, feel the pain, and then forget about it. For a conglomerate of messy reasons a fast and painless break up was simply not an option the last time around. The residual healing process was also rather turbulent, and it even included a mini-nervous break down in August (it’s actually a pretty fucked up/funny story, but I’ll save it for another time).
Ironically, the “break up portion” was about one third of our whole relationship. In total we dated two years and ten months. It took us ten months to break up. TEN MONTHS! That’s a long fucking time to be crying, and fighting, and agonizing, and torturing one another. I don’t recommend it to anyone, and I don’t wish it upon my worst enemy.
The actual demise of “us” was a pretty surreal experience. When “The End” happened it just sort of happened, we didn’t even talk about what was taking place. One day – our last day together – he walked out the door and I just knew, for some sixth-sense reason, that he was never coming back. I went through every room packing his shit and putting it all on the left side of “our” living room. A few days later while I was hidden away at work he came and picked everything up, and I still haven’t seen him since the day he walked out. If you’re feeling sappy you can read about it here, but otherwise I promise this is going to start to get funny.
Exactly two weeks, prior to the “beginning of the end” I turned to my then boyfriend and said, “Can you believe I’m twenty-whatever years old and I’ve never been dumped or cheated on?”
Ladies and Gentlemen: NEVER SAY THIS! I just had to open my big stupid mouth and brag about my relationship indestructibility. I credit that stupid sentiment entirely with being the reason for the relationship ending. (Okay, that’s a joke. I credit his inability to keep his dick in his pants with being the reason for the relationship ending.)
Here comes the funny part… I think:
Let’s keep the dick metaphor going for a minute…
The demise of the relationship was like a penis going from un-aroused to aroused to eventually exploding.
The beginning of the end started out kind of “soft.” All in all it wasn’t such a big deal. As things got a little more heated and more started to happen between us the “harder” the situation became. Eventually it was so hard neither one of us could take our minds off of it, not for even a second. We were exhausted and out of breath, but we were in too deep and couldn’t stop. We just kept hammering away at one another. Suddenly, a silent explosion occurred. Granted, deep down we both always knew it would eventually come. We both felt it: perhaps he more than I. It was this shaking intensity where we instantly knew the journey had come to an end without even exchanging a word.
Then… everything became soft again, and all that was left was a gigantic mess.
God I LOVE double entendre!
