Moving on is not about not loving someone anymore and forgetting about them. It’s about having the strength to say, ‘I love you, but you’re not worth this pain.’
The great part of this break-up is that, quite unlike other break-ups where I would wail and tear my hair over it, I was much happier this time. Happy, not because it wasn’t a great love story (of course it was, with amazing sex), but because this time, I saw the end from the beginning.
It all began on Twitter; there was this tweep whose twitter profile I’d been stalking for close to a year. Eventually, we added each other on BBM, exchanged pictures, and did the necessary introductions. He wasn’t so good looking, but he had a good sense of humor (at least he picked a struggle, lol). We eventually got to see in person, and the fact that we had a lot in common fueled my interest. We ended the day with his surprise kiss, an amazing kiss which blew me away.
We kept on with our acquaintanceship, keeping up with each other’s daily activities, stealing time out of our busy schedules to see a movie, or be together. And the sex – when we got around to that, it was great. Again and again, he proved to be a great kisser (Have to give him that credit).
Months passed on, and we were both still cool with each other. I began to feel that this was too good to be true. Our…well, relationship (for lack of a better word) hadn’t been defined. I wasn’t sure we were dating, and at the same time, I wasn’t sure we weren’t. I had to know. So, during one of our dates, I asked him, “Where are we heading with this? Are we in a relationship? Or are we just friends having sex?”
He evaded the question with a sarcastic quip, saying that I was asking because I wanted to look for someone else better than him. That was a lame response, but I let it go.
More time passed, and both school work and schedules got more hectic for me. My contact with him became unstable (he was always changing phones, like every fortnight). Our communication became strained, and soon, weeks would go by without any exchange of pleasantries. He never called. I got worried, called his lines, sent him text messages, messaged him on Facebook – and got no response.
Two months slid past, and there was not a word from him.
Then one day, I logged on to Twitter, and saw that he’d tweeted some statuses minutes ago. I was suddenly inexplicably petrified. I checked his Timeline to discover that he’d been steadily tweeting for the two months I’d been trying to contact him. I hadn’t known this because I wasn’t regular on twitter due to how busy I was.
And the hurtful part of it was that most of his tweets talked about the new ‘boo’ he met.
Well, I thought it was some sort of joke, until the last tweet said: “Sleeping tonight wt the boo.”
Then it dawned on me – yes, just then, and not a moment earlier – that there was someone else. He’d turned the page on our chapter.
The next day, I sent him a message, asking him what went wrong with us. And his reply (finally!) was, “Yeah well, I’ve always wanted an open relationship with you. So now, I’m seeing someone else.”
Strangely, I didn’t feel bad after he gave what was yet again a lame response (and I used to think he was so witty), because I remembered when I asked him the ‘What are we?’ question. That day, when his answer wasn’t satisfactory enough, I expected the worst from that moment.
To add salt to wound, he continued with ‘I like you as a friend…’ (Just like that, I was frogmarched into the nearby friend-zone that I’d been running away from)
Well, the love story has ended. For me anyway, because he suddenly seems very interested in us seeing to ‘sort things out.’ But then, that’ll happen when hell freezes over, or pigs will fly. And that’s not my hurt speaking; I’m just simply done with all that jazz. I don’t feel bad that this happened. (Perhaps, if things had played out differently, I wouldn’t have minded being in an open relationship with him) I however feel bad because it took him a year and six months to know this was what he wanted for us.
Or perhaps, he’d always known, but hadn’t the presence of mind to tell me.
I’m never afraid of commitment. I’m just afraid of wasted time.
Do happy endings exist? If you ask me, I’d say ‘No’ (Big surprise, huh? Lol) I may have once been a romantic, but you go through enough bullshit and you begin to realize that relationships are not fairytales and snowflakes (even a gay Disney won’t sell me on that). All good things – great romance, great sex, great bonding – eventually come to an end. It’s always just a matter of time.
Written by Earl