Breakups, the beautiful things that crush our souls. (Kidding)

There are those moments in life where nothing happens as you might have expected that it would.
And then there are the moments where everything goes like you thought it would and it’s entirely underwhelming.
Beneath the small struggles that encompass our daily lives, there are something bigger and more beautiful at work.

To quote Ryan, who took me out for a wonderful dinner last night: “Maybe I have it all wrong and you are just some ruthless asshole that just roams the earth hurting 39 year olds.  But I don’t think so.  Behind that tough facade I know you are very sweet…You are a shining star amid a crowd of 40 watt light bulbs. You seriously are an amazing individual.”

I laughed when I read this, becuase he signed his email with a typical rude Katie Barry sendoff.

This weekend brought the end of the biochemist. We tried (perhaps valiantly) and failed. We both knew it was coming, but he brought it, and deserves credit for it.
I had announced the impending breakup (can you break up with someone you weren’t actually with?) to several people, and so feel quite fulfilled by my ability to feel out my hunches.

I cried like a small child, much to my embarrassment. I later told him that the unleashing of cathartic tears was 80% the result of wine consumption and 20% my wounded ego.

I’m not sure that he understands that I was not solely involved with him and therefore am not as devasted as if I’d lost my house, or had my bike stolen again, or if my cat was run over by a truck. This registers at, “Damn, I spent that $20 I was going to save.” on the emotion-scale. Upsetting, annoying, but entirely survivable.
By the way, that might be the worst analogy ever, but I am sticking with it. The more I read it, the more I’m alright it. And the more I want to check my wallet to make sure I have that extra $20.

I am slowly realizing that there are people who will not adore me. (Surprise, surprise. Something we’ve known all along but can finally catalogue for posterity.)
I realize that two people, no matter how lovely individually, can be perfectly wrong for each other.
I am realizing that perhaps the parting of the ways should happen after the 3rd bad date and not after the 20th.

I am young, free, and quite content to wander for awhile.
I know what I want. The problem is that it’s in Chicago and needs to get its shit together.
I’m kidding – that’s the most perfect non-relationship I’ve ever been it. I hope it only changes for the better and never for the worse. We’ve known each other for a year and a half, and in that time, there has been so much miscommunication and craziness, but also so many really wonderful moments.
I hope that my July visit is either as good as the April one or better.
And contrary to popular belief, I did not go to South Africa because of him.
(Just so we’re clear on that.)


Here’s to the waning (and wonderful) days of my beautiful youth.

(I’m going to read this when I’m still single and 45 and have a lot of cats and thick thighs and quite possibly an addiction to TV dinners and not laugh at all. But for now I think it’s funny. All of it. I am a walking episode of Seinfeld and I’m alright with that.)


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