On Losing Your Best Friend, Morosely

We couldn’t do it. God knows we tried.

He started moving out yesterday while I was at work. He texted me to tell me that he was jealous of one of my dude friends and that he was sick of laying next to me at night knowing how unhappy I was.

I didn’t believe it at first.

We had a big fight last weekend, and neither of us could answer why we loved each other. I couldn’t think of things. He’s a great dad to the dog. I should have said that.

He took the dog. He told me today that I’ll be able to see the dog whenever I want, but he imagines that I won’t want to. I will. I’m a good dog-mom. I love that dog. I am hurt. He told me last weekend that I could keep the dog. He lied.

I know it wasn’t going to work in the long run, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to. I know that we had tried for too long to make it work; that he can’t meet my needs – generally emotional and support-related; that I’m too demanding of him, that I want him to be someone he’s not.

But at the bottom of it all, he is my best friend. He’s the guy I [used to] make dinner with; the guy I [used to] run errands with; the guy I [used to] play video games with. And now he’s gone. My other half is gone.

I knew it needed to happen. I guess it’s good that he initiated it. I never would have done it. I kept telling myself that I just needed to see if we could do it, if maybe this time would be different. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t so bad and that it was fine. Everything was fine. But it wasn’t happy. He wasn’t there emotionally or supportive or positive. He refused to compliment me on anything because he thought that it was me being too needy. I did a lot of handling of stuff. It wasn’t perfect. It was a lot of comfortable.

He was the one who kept me going through some really horrendous times. He’s been a huge part of my life for two and a half years. We had a little family, and for a while, we were happy.

When we started dating, I knew that this was going to be the relationship of my mid-twenties, that life-changing one where you have to start over and you are forced to reexamine your life as an adult. It’s not just fun and games, now it’s real. I don’t know – I had a better outlook on it when it was something that wouldn’t ever happen to me. But now that it has, I guess I’ll tell you more about it once I’ve hit that smug other end of survival, where it doesn’t hurt and I’m freely giving advice on how to heal. (Ha, could we just fast-forward to that point already?)

He told me he didn’t trust me, and I think that’s a shared feeling. I think we’ve struggled with that from the beginning. He told me that he wishes it wasn’t ending, and the best way to do it is by ripping the band-aid off and going cold turkey. I wish it wasn’t like that.

I think he’s been planning it for a while – he just got his car back from the dealership where it’s been for two months on Tuesday. He left Wednesday. He came back this morning, after I hadn’t heard from him for almost twenty-four hours, bringing the dog. I cried into his puppy fur. He doesn’t know. I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again.

I wasn’t ready. I knew that eventually, I’d have to be ready. But I wasn’t. This is a good kick in the pants. I know that this is a good thing. I know that this will be fine one day. I know that eventually, I’ll be able to think about moving on. But right now, it hurts. It hurts so bad. You know when your heart hurts, that tight clenching feeling, and then your palms ache? It’s that, interspersed with those horrible wails of anguish. Then some tears. Then I’m fine. And then I’ll think about something….and suddenly it’s back to the tears.

His friend told me that he’s surprised that I was so surprised by the break up. Even though I’d spent an hour the night before with my therapist talking about feeling like I need to feel ready to end it, I wasn’t ready. There was still something there. Apparently, boyfriend hadn’t felt great about us in a long time either. So it turns out that both os us are hurt, both of us felt frustrated, and neither of us could figure out if there was a way to fix it.

I’m sure the next few months will hold a million different challenges – the breakup depression, the loneliness (that’s what most likely to get to me), the panic about what now? But I’m taking the GRE in February. That’ll keep me busy – I need to relearn everything there is to know about math so I can get in to a good graduate school.

Mom, I’m going to need that spare bed, please.

According to NPR, science can help.

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