In the past, I hadn’t been one to block anyone for any reason at all. I was the kind of girl who maintained polite relationships with my exes. We usually ended on good terms—a mutual agreement or a similar feeling of the end. There were, of course, the rare tragic ends, but even then, I wouldn’t go to the lengths of blocking calls, messages, and social media. I’ve finally reached that place—and it’s absolutely wonderful. It’s freeing to know that you don’t ever have to speak to this person again (unless the stars align and cause you to cross paths—BUT even then, you don’t really have to speak), and I have embraced the block.
The 5-Year Relationship
I thought we would get married.
This was the plan. No, there wasn’t a proposal. But he talked of marriage more often than I did and gave my grandparents a projected date for when all of this would go down. We were family. My family was his and his was mine. His dog was mine and mine was his. We shared holidays. Thanksgiving with my family and New Years with his. We did this for five years.
I can’t put my finger on when we started to grow apart. I used to replay parts of our relationship over in my head—did it end even earlier than I think? Was it the time I bruised the palms of my hands hitting his broad chest? Was it the time I told him to pull over and let me out of the car? Was it the time my ex called and I answered? Was I too forgiving from the start? Was it the start that made the end a guarantee?
I don’t know.
I know that in the end, though, I fought really hard for us. I embarrassed myself with the longest letter I have ever written. I’ve deleted it now, but I remember some 3000 words, single spaced. Lots of “but remember the time,” and “we promised,” and “what about all of this…” It was a heart-wrenching letter surrounded by lack of sleep, no desire to eat, and a kind of sobbing I never thought could actually come out of me. It was a constant, steady pain for about two weeks. Spontaneous tears.
And then one day, two weeks after the break-up, I called him. I called him because in all of my disarray, I was still calculating and things were not adding up. I asked him: “but is there someone else?” [Pregnant pause.] And before he boldly answered: “yes,” I already knew. I knew two weeks before I made that call. I knew during our last trip together. I knew during the holidays. And I knew before the holidays—on my birthday—5 months before we actually broke up. I knew.
So “I’ve forgiven it all. You set me free.” I would honestly go through all of the pain at the end again and again, if it guaranteed that I am who I am today. I love the me post-that 5-year relationship. I am better to myself, and I am better to others: a better friend and a better lover. You taught me what I needed, and for that, I am thankful. “Send my love to your new lover. Treat her better.”
I stopped loving you a long time ago.
Photo courtesy of @THEOPTIMISTDREAMER from nappy