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| My sneaky photo from our first weekend back together. |
So.
::chuckles awkwardly::
So.
Here I am, sitting in a Starbucks (surprise), drinking my coffee (surprise), and writing about the amicable splitting from perhaps my greatest love (actually that one is a surprise.) How do you even start one of these blogs anyway? There's no anger, apart from the anger I have for the situation... there's no happiness, apart from the happiness I (we?) feel in having a weight lifted off my/our shoulders.
There's no sadness, apart from the crippling heartbreak that comes with letting go of something that was just really... it was just great.
I think most of you are well-versed enough in the history of Andrew and I that for the most part, it doesn't really have cause for repeating. We met in June of 2019, had a whirlwind 9 months, and then it was over. After about 9 months of largely complete radio silence, we started talking again. A whole lot. Then in June 2021, we got back together.
There, you're up to speed.
I think that historically I tend to go into things, be they relationships or jobs or like... kids birthday parties... with the best intentions. Bright eyed, often projecting a naivety that's actually a cleverly disguised harsh criticism, and overall friendly. Right now, that is how I feel I approached this branch of perhaps the most epic love story I've experienced in my life, or at least, my life so far. I was bright eyed because it was a fresh start to dive into something that had been torn away from me so suddenly. I was seemingly naive but harshly critical, because I was looking for any of the negative semblances of the relationship version we shared that predated this one... and I was friendly, because not being friendly to this person I never stopped loving just seemed wrong.
We moved at a lightning pace, sliding back into a rhythm both so different from before and so much exactly the same that, according to both of us, it was like no time at all had passed. It was as if the absence never occurred. We clicked, like we always had, but without the drama that plagued us during "round one," as I was so fond of calling it. We had our issues, it wasn't all roses all the time, but they were issues that we talked about in the moment and worked through. Like adults.
Not that we weren't adults before, but we just... well, we didn't really talk about a lot of things bothering us before. Perhaps Andrew more than myself, but I was just as guilty in this facet. We're both very keen on the mentality of "giving it time," aka burying it, and hoping for the best.
The funny thing with talking about things as they arise, is that I started feeling like I was the nag. I felt like I was coming across as if I had a problem with everything, and because I had a problem with everything, it was as if I couldn't function if there wasn't something to take issue with. Which, y'know... fun to be me! But we worked through it consistently and all remained pretty great despite all that.
We did come up against a wall in November, one I'd actually rather not disclose, but one that was... I don't know what word to use other than "finite." It wasn't a bad thing, no one did anything wrong, but it was a game changing reality for us. For what it's worth, we tried to work around it. We talked a lot, I thought about it A LOT, and we moseyed through the holidays with that tried-and-true notion of "give it time." Because time heals everything, right? And eventually things are just fine? At least, that's how I've lived my life. When I encounter things or situations I just don't like, usually a bit of time resolves them. Sometimes... a bit of time only means you'll still have to pay the piper.
In this instance, unfortunately, time did not resolve it. Unless you consider us coming to terms with it and deciding to end the relationship a "resolution," that is. It wasn't the resolution I wanted. It wasn't what Andrew wanted, either. But here I am, writing about it in a Starbucks. Again.
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| July 2021 |
The most painful part of our first breakup was that because it came on so suddenly, I didn't have time to anticipate the end. And because of that, I was left wondering that constant and horrible question of "what if?" There were so many unknown things about where we would have gone, how it would have felt, if it eventually would just run a course, if it would last forever... and I thought about it all constantly. What I was so fortunately afforded with this breakup is that I can now answer all of that. I got my second chance at love with him, and I was able to ultimately resolve all that had been left unsaid and undone between us in my mind.
How many people have that opportunity in life? I certainly haven't before, and I cannot stress enough how fabulous it was to receive it.
My heart surprises me in all of the different ways as to how it chooses to break over the years. Some heartbreaks are so... potent... that they have taken the breathe from my lungs. They were unjust and cruel, making a mockery of me as an individual and the love I hold. Some heartbreaks have been more of a "good, get gone, go, see ya," accompanied by the bitterness riding on those words and slipping into my soul.
This heartbreak is something else entirely. This heartbreak is one that comes with the failures of everything before, magnified so strongly by all of the hopes and dreams that came with the notion of this being the first time I've ever gotten back together with an ex. I think back on specific moments in time over the last three years and I just... I draw into myself.
For example the other week when I said to Andrew "this was just supposed to work."
It's hard not to feel like a failure when big and important things in your life don't work out. Even if it wasn't for a lack of trying, even if it wasn't for a lack of care and attention, I feel like a failure. This is compounded by the fact that there is no one to be mad at. No one in the equation of two people made a choice that destroyed the other. Andrew and I are two fairly stubborn people, absolutely, but we are also stubborn in that as we come to know who we truly are, we stand by our moral values and core traits.
That's okay.
Sometimes it sucks, but it's okay.
Another example was going to sleep that first night, both of us laying in the bed and me crying as we held hands. After a time, with neither of us wanting to turn the light out because maybe subconsciously that meant it was the light truly being turned out on us, Andrew said "it's only the first night once." Even now, three weeks later, my eyes well up thinking about that moment. Sometimes the sadness of this not working is all-consuming.
Because of the different ways we communicate and show emotion, I spent a lot of time in both phases of our relationship operating under the fear that I didn't matter to Andrew. This is not something he ever expressed to me, it was just, for lack of a better word, a "vibe" I held on to. To me, there's nothing worse than something so important coming to a close and knowing you didn't mean much to a person. And for each time I said this to him, and for each time he told me that was not accurate and dispelled my theory, I just held on to it.
Here, at the end, I know I did matter. I know I mattered very much to Andrew, and I know what space I'll occupy in his heart and mind for now, for a long time, and for maybe forever. I hope he knows that he occupies this in me as well. The perspective that comes from an amicable, respectful split, has been very interesting to me (and to him). While the feeling of being in-love has gone, there is still so much love and care that I hold for him. Any partnership, be it boyfriends or girlfriends or spouses, hopefully results in that special person being one of your best friends. This is true of us.
I used to hold so much stock in my bests, sometimes unfairly putting a weight on our relationships that should they fail, the catastrophic reckoning would consume me. Now, with so many of my bests having fallen to the wayside (or kicked to the curb, natch), I get more than ever how some people are only meant to be in your life for a while, and others perhaps forever.
I feel that Andrew is one of my forevers.
There was a gravity between us from the first time we met, constantly pulling us toward each other through so many obstacles and hoops and fires and rivers and canyons and voids of misunderstanding. We just kept coming back for more. Because of that, I am led to believe that not only is Andrew a best friend, but also a soulmate. You're not confined to one in life... it's silly to limit yourself in that way. But that's how I feel. He's just a part of me.
I don't know what the future holds, as for now we are roommates and navigating how that has shifted our dynamic. This is something we'll continue figuring out, until one of us decides to call it and move away. Either him, moving on to his own property of choice, or me deciding it's time to sell the Ranch and scoot along to my next adventure. To quote one of Andrew's favorite phrases, "who can never be sure?"
After phase one ended, I discovered "Cool" by Dua Lipa, and I listened to it *all*the*time* during lockdown in 2020. So much so, and throughout the year, that it was my #1 song on Spotify for 2020.
Then it was my #1 song on Spotify for 2021.
Looking at it now and how it made me feel, I always attributed this song to my relationship with Andrew, or Meatball, as I so affectionately refer to him. Perhaps Dua says it best, "guess I never had a love like this; hit me harder than I ever expected."
Indeed it did. And let the record show, once and for all, I don't regret a single second of it.
Ciao for now (c:
