I Can Breathe Now

I broke-up with Bam yesterday.

Oh the lovely world of Miss Curious’ completely unstable relationships. Ridiculous.

Last week he was out of town. I knew he was going to be crazy busy, so I told him not to worry about me and that he can just call me when he gets back in town. Mid-week he sent me a couple adorable emails, the last one I received on Thursday (I initiated email contact).

The Saturday he left we had a small bump – I may have mentioned it. Really though, these bumps are super small, but I have a feeling he just doesn’t like any imperfections. These bumps should just be conversations, and maybe he takes it as me knockin’ his character. Anyway, he has unrealistic expectations. His actions are much like my own in previous relationships. The classic “push her away” actions, that is. Well, guess after his “push her away” bit, I’ve now performed my very own “push him away.” Rad.

My last email to him on Thursday asked when he’d be back and that I’d love for him to call me, so I know he arrived home safely. I mean, I am (or was) his girlfriend. The airport arrival phone calls are kinda’ in the book of what to do in a relationship.

I had no reply email.

Friday, I left him a voicemail that was super sweet, as is my nature, hahaha. “Hey just wanted to see when you were coming back, and safe travels, my dear. I’ve missed your voice. Call me when you’re home.”

In the evening I get a distant text, “hopping on the plane now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Hopping on the plane, so you can’t call and talk or whatever shit.

And no phone call the next day.

I even texted him, “welcome back!”

No response to that text either.

So, Sunday I was pretty pissed. Seriously, what the hell? What the hell happened from his “all I know is that I like you VERY MUCH… I feel very close to you and care about you very much” email on Wednesday? There was no even though I feel this way BUT. It was a we’re still doing this email.

I found myself tired of the guessing game. If he truly cared for me, he’d have at least called to say, “got home… don’t have time to chat, but wanted to say hi.” And, no problem.

The fact that he did nothing when he returned is very telling… telling me to dump his immature ass. Clearly, he wanted me to do the dirty work.

And what the fuck? How did we get here? When we’re together we get along so well… laugh and kiss and hug and talk about nothing incessantly. We typically email silly things all day, and he calls me on his ride home, and we’d talk about our days (even though we’d been doing so all day). Then, later in the evening more often than not, we’d have our good-night chats or at least a “goodnight babygurl… thinking of you” texts (p.s. I LOVE that he called me babygurl).

We couldn’t get over these stupid little things? It seems that both of us were battling our feelings. At least one of us needs to be normal, right?!?! I suppose we both need a lot of growing up in the relationship world. But then, why do some people get it right on the first try?

Anyway, I don’t know what happened.

How I remember Bam:

Lying on my pale yellow duvet cover wearing a white t-shirt and levis. His legs were crossed at his ankles, and one of his arms was behind his head exposing that pale soft side and arching his head just enough to give him the best view of me dancing around the room.

We again talked about how he saved all my emails. How he even has a mailbox specifically for my emails.

“Do you go back and read them?” I questioned (I’d asked this before, but I wanted to hear him say it again).

“Yes.”

“Why do you re-read them?” I probed.

In the most sincere voice I can ever recall hearing, “because I care about you.”

Jesus, I almost fucking cried it was so sweet. It took my breath away.

“You do?”

“I really do. I care a lot about you.”

I then of course hopped on the bed and smothered him with kisses.

That was a good moment. That made this sadness of loss worth it.


SILLINESS:

Okay, so I make fun of John Mayer ‘cuz I’m a bitch, but I do like this song… and I like these lyrics:

And I know it was me who called it over
but I still wish you'd fought me ‘til Your dying day
Don’t let me get away
Cause I can’t wait to figure out what’s wrong with me
So I can say 'this is the way that I used to be (Oh God yes!)
There’s no substitute for time
Or for the sadness

- Split Screen Sadness
John Mayer


...our bodies get bigger.
but - our hearts get torn up...

- Wake-up
The Arcade Fire

I have a live David Bowie / Arcade Fire version of this song, and when they sing that line, for some reason, it hurts my heart in a beautiful way. Beautiful in the way that I need to wake the fuck up and not let that to continue to happen to me... rather, not let myself tear my heart up.

Maybe there are things I can’t control, but what I can control is my reaction to those things.