He asks me what I’m thinking and all I can think of is how every time I have worn this dress in the past two years, I have been having some variation of this conversation. I say, ‘I am so bored of this.’ Because it all sounds the same when someone doesn’t want you.
As far as break-ups go, it was pretty great. I called him a bastard for setting the bar so high for the next guy. He told me that my dysfunctional mind that I resent so much is exactly what attracted him to me in the first place. I drank his water. We talked about our respective days. We laughed. It ended the way it began- with communication, respect. With softness. It ended where it began too. A gentle reminder of the cycle of life.
At home I called my girls and asked them for an ear, a shoulder, a smile. I was nervous about being left alone with my thoughts. I have learnt how to ask for help. They were spectacular as usual but I couldn’t help feeling tired- I don’t want to do this again.
But then something happened. As soon as I thought that, something else jumped up immediately- you have to do this again. This is the only way.
I was twenty-five when someone dumped me for the first time. And it was someone that I really, really wanted. It was an excruciating experience. It broke me.
But getting dumped gets easier.
The next three guys have dumped me too. They had better excuses than, I want quantity, not quality. One spoke in cliches. The next one said he wasn’t enough for me (and meant it) . This one happened to meet The One.
Here’s the thing- getting dumped is a success for me. Evading it for so many years doesn’t make me an independent warrior. It makes me a coward. I was running from love.
I am standing still now even though I am still scared. Dating does not come naturally to me because I don’t know how to let someone in. I don’t know how not to be alone. But getting dumped is progress because at least I’m fucking trying. It’s like, you’re not winning just because you refuse to roll the dice. In fact, you’re not even in the fucking game. But, if you keep rolling, at least you have a chance. Even when you’re losing.
I will miss out on being with this wonderful guy. Not just because he’s, well, wonderful. But because he saw me. He saw how deep I was, how broken, how full I am of love. He saw me because I let myself be seen. But that doesn’t mean it was meant to be. And that’s okay. Because he’s not mine. He was always unavailable to me because he always belonged to someone else. In the same way that I belong to someone. I just haven’t met him yet. And until I do, I will continue to date. I will practise the art of loving someone. I will learn how to let someone love me. I will keep taking chances and I will pick myself up again if I fail. I will push through the hurt by loving harder.
Because this is the only way.