I never saw the breakup coming. It’s not like there were signs.
“I’ve been unhappy for awhile now.” I had never felt more ashamed and embarrassed than when those words were so casually spoken on the other end of the phone.
“Why? How? I just don’t understand,” I remember begging for answers, praying that he wouldn’t hear me cry. “You never said anything. How could you go on for months without saying anything?” And even now, I still believe that. How can a person be so unhappy and not express themselves? I blamed the failure of the relationship on myself for several weeks after, trying to put together pieces of a puzzle without actually knowing what I was trying to create.
I didn’t think that this would happen to me. I had finally met the person I was meant to be with. I could see us buying a house. He would be a wonderful father to the kids we would have. I saw all the things that were important to me, in him.
He knew that I wanted affirmation. I wanted to know that he wanted the same things. He said that he felt pressured to put a ring on my finger. I said that was silly. That all I wanted was him, not some ring. I needed the words that would make me feel like I was important, special to him.
I stuck my foot in my mouth after seeing one of my best friends get married and with the unwelcomed courage after several glasses of champagne.
“I feel like you’re never going to love me.”
As Carrie Bradshaw said, “I revealed too much too soon. I was emotionally slutty.” I just needed to hear him say that he wanted me, that I was beautiful, sexy, one in a million. I didn’t need to hear that short but powerful phrase: I love you. I only craved reassurance that I wasn’t in this alone.
“I may not be there yet but I want to be with you. We are long distance, we don’t see each other that often. But I want to be with you and be in this relationship. I’m looking for a job in Chicago. We would live together. It’s the best thing for the relationship.”
He said all the right things. I look back on it now and wonder if it was all a lie. That was just a few weeks before our dismal end so why did he say all those things when he didn’t want me?
So many questions raced through my mind after he told me that he wanted out. Did he find someone else? Was he cheating on me? What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough? Why couldn’t he see that I wasn’t perfect but I was perfect for him?
Relationships aren’t like the dreams that you have as a little girl or gush about over drinks with friends. I see that now after being thrown to the curb like an old t-shirt that has one too many holes in it. Why keep that favorite old t-shirt around when you can easily grab a new one on the sale rack?
You keep it because it’s your favorite shirt. It’s been there with you through all of life’s ups and downs. It’s seen you at your best and your worst. It provides comfort and security.
I wish I could go back in time and redo so many things. I think about how I wouldn’t ask for more. Kiss, hug and touch him every second that I could. Be the person he needed me to be. But I can’t. And would it even make a difference? Do I even want the second chance to do it all over again after the hurt he’s caused? Does he deserve me a second time around?
I think about the things I would say to him if he called and I still secretly hope he does. Whenever my phone chimes, I lunge for it, hoping for just one text.
He gave up on me, let me go. And that hurts the most. I allowed him to use me and my emotions. Take what was best of me. I tied myself to a boy that didn’t want to be tied down. He didn’t want me because I wasn’t perfect.
Even if I could say all the right things and do everything perfectly, it still wouldn’t be enough for him. Everyone deserves to have someone in their life that will think that they are more than enough. That will see the imperfections, flaws and accept each other, holes and all. But most importantly, we have to be able to accept ourselves. I wasn’t the “one” for him but I am for me. I am beautiful, sexy, one in a million. I am worth it.
So the next time a boy comes around and tries to play with my heart, I will know that it’s not about me, it has everything to do with them. Because I am enough.
About Morgan Stole
Hailing from the Lone Star state five years ago, Morgan now calls Chicago her home away from home. She enjoys a hot cheese enchilada dinner, riding her road bike Black Beauty without a helmet and telling people she eats healthy while licking the Doritos crumbs off her fingers. While managing luxury apartment communities in downtown, she still dabbles in her Journalism background. You can usually find her convincing her three-legged golden retriever that snuggling is cool, with much resistance.
