The break-up

What no one ever tells you is that sadness comes in phases. The day and day after are undoubtedly spent wallowing in the kind of sadness that makes no sense. How could someone who came into your life only some time ago become so important? Every inch of you is aching and honestly it's a playback of moments in your head. What went wrong? Did I miss the signs? Should I read into situations more/ less? Not a clue. Chocolate here I come!

Then you start to feel better. You hate your life without them lesser and cherish your new memories. At least these have been untouched. You congratulate yourself on being an adult. Look how grown up you are! No maligning them, no blame game, heck you even start believing you could be civil, almost friends, that you could live this life normally again. I mean you knew you would eventually, you're just proud at how quickly you've done it.

And then it comes. On a random Tuesday sitting and watching something on Netflix you don't even care about. A word, a song, a look - triggering a memory and whirlwind of emotions you didn't even know you associated with the word. The reality of your situation pounds on the doors of your senses, demanding to be acknowledged, to be felt, to be respected and not pushed aside. And you do. You accept that life hit you in the face with all its might and that yes you're down. You're down and ready to tap out. After all there's only that much you have the strength for.

I guess it is in times like these when your family and friends can only remind you that yes you're down but you're not out. Yes, you may want to tap out, but nothing in this world would be worth losing them or causing them the pain of losing you. That, you are in pain but (without trying to make your pain insignificant) it would never change the fact that someone out there is in more pain and striving every day to make things better. How can you tap out then? How can you, knowing what loss feels like, be the loser who bowed out when things got tough? So you put on your big girl pants and march down tomorrow knowing that somewhere in the darkness lurks a memory that will catch you unawares, ripping through your gut like a sharp two-edged knife and all you can do then is to breathe, smile and bite back the bile because you actually have grown up.

You like me, you just don't know it yet’, he said laughing. Oh he's going to be trouble, I remember thinking. I knew he was going to be so much trouble when he held my hand as I slept in the hospital after a surgery. It was the only way I could sleep and so he held my hand. It was only natural then when after a month we started dating. It wasn't without our own little dance! God knows I resisted. Said no, walked away a 1000 times. But nope not him. He was persistent. Charming, funny and honest, he definitely set my heart racing and I knew my resistance was not going to last too long. It started off just as any other. We flirted, dated, laughed, held hands and were so into each other the world faded around us. When the highs came, they really were addictive and when the lows came, we rode it out. His patience and my trust allowed us to have the best time even when things became tough. He went from a neighbor to a friend to my best friend. Ann Arbor became our playing ground. We had our places - Frank's, tk Wu, broken egg, things we did - movies, video games, inside jokes and favorite plans. When things got tough with me he became the person I cried to, ranted with and depended on. Think you get the gist now - we were happy.

1 year, 2 months and 2 days. That’s how long it had been. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but to me it was. For an entire year, I was used to coming home to a person, a space we both occupied, shared kitchen, shared living area, planning for two and executing for us. Ann Arbor will forever be a place I associate with us. So when the call came as I was finishing my Christmas dinner, I was surprised. He was in India and more importantly he is not a caller, hell we both aren’t. I thought maybe it was just to wish me Christmas. As soon as I picked it up I knew things were going to fall apart for me. I don’t think he understands how well I know him, his nervous ticks and his tells. I knew this call was going to be different. And it was. He was sure and no matter how I reasoned and asked to understand, there was no changing his mind. Reasons, which by now have become immaterial were stated and that was that. My haven had been destroyed. It ended faster than I could wrap my head around it. His voice became words, words I could see were being relayed ever so meticulously – silently and with no hope, lest that’s a can I try and open again.

So that’s what it felt like. Sudden. And impersonal. It wasn’t like ripping a band-aid, FYI to anyone who says that to me next time. No, it was more like a surgery that leaves a scar – one that reminds you every day that it’s there. It isn’t a battle scar, you’re not valiant. You’re just not right. Worst part about this – he was my person from day 1 and now with 4 months to go, I need to reclaim Ann Arbor as mine, not ours. 

P.S: This is only my side of the story. I am sure it doesn't do justice to how or what he thinks about this. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to gain distance or maturity enough to be able to take that into account. Maybe this post after a few days would've been more balanced. But the truth is, this is the only way I can deal with being overwhelmed, so it was done now.

Writers

Date a guy who writes. Yes, he may be regularly lost and sullen, moody even, but he’ll know better than anyone else how words affect you. When you’re angry he will show you the funny in your words and when you’re sad he will show you how words heal. Commas will no more be punctuation but the pause you can see him take before he tells you how beautiful you look tonight. The future in his words will be a well painted picture, one in which you can imagine the two of you sitting and drinking coffee by the French windows and the low hum of music in the background. Seduction will be intellectual and he’ll show you just how easy it is to know what he thinks because he’ll tell you. He’ll tell you how he feels when you’re around and when you’re not. Just how splendid holding hands with you feels and how your smile lights up his world. And when things go south, he’ll use words guaranteed to cause you pain and break your heart worse than others. The beauty of things ending with writers is that you get over it so damn fast. Because you may forgive and forget a lot of things but you’ll never (or at least should never) go back to someone who knows just exactly how to make you feel vulnerable and then break you.

Women

Women are inexplicably the most emotional creatures in the world. I am not even completely sure how that works. Put us in a professional settings and we are bright, we’re smart and we'll make decisions well worth our competence. Put us in a personal setting and be rest assured all our rationality is going down the shitters. I don't make emotional decisions. I'm not the girl that puts her sleep in jeopardy because that boy I like is still awake, not going to happen. Until it does. That moment when you let your guard down and you make that change. You give another person the kind of importance you didn't even know you had it in you to give. You make decisions. Admittedly dumbass decisions where you accommodate and prioritize them in your life because you think they're important. And then they don't. Importance for me has always been linked to actions, not words. As a very wise friend says, talk is cheap. 

Note: These opinions are mine and mine alone based on observation of me and a few friends. No offense meant.