My boyfriend and I broke up, well at least I think we did. Things have been rocky since the day he slapped me across the face for calling him "a liar". To be fair, I do have a tendency to call bullshit when I think someone is lying to me, and I apparently do it more than I should, but that doesn't excuse him slapping me. Honestly, after it happened, I was in shock; completely confused as to what had just happened. I thought we were happy; we had just spent the weekend in Des Moines celebrating his birthday at the Funny Bone Comedy Club. He had filled in at the pulpit for my dad on Sunday where he gave a very powerful, moving message. We even looked at a house just down the street from my parents. Everything was great...until that slap.
I can't say I remember with any kind of clarity what exactly took place after that, but I do remember having a sense that things would never be the same again. That even though I loved him and wanted to forgive him, the relationship was in a tailspin. As we talked (quite a while after the slap), it seemed he was through with me; he couldn't even tell me he loved me. I left the house in the middle of the night believing that it was over.
When I got up the next morning, he had apparently changed his mind. He said he loved me and that he was sorry, but as soon as I scoffed at his words, he responded by saying, "That's it, we're done." Of all the things I had felt before, now I just felt hopeless. In one breath, he said the words, "I love you" and "we're done". I had no idea what to believe, so I left for work (a safe place for me in all of this).
After breaking down in tears and spilling everything that happened to one of my associates, I called my parents (who were inconveniently out of town), and told them what happened. My mom had exactly the reaction I expected, "That's it; it's over". My dad, too, reacted in just the way I suspected saying, "You know, everybody makes mistakes". Though I knew that would be my dad's reaction, I still hoped deep down, that he would be more concerned about me, but he's a loving guy to the end.
The following weeks were filled with short texts, a meeting with my dad to try to "clear the air" and a lot of questioning and struggling on my part. How did we get here? Is there something I could have done differently? How could this guy give such an amazing sermon and then slap me just hours later? Was he ever happy in the relationship, or did he just truly want a new family? Did he ever really love me? Did I really love him?
We continued texting, but I was usually the first one to make contact. If I'm being completely honest, I was dying to talk to him about anything. I thought about him all the time, and I was just looking for reasons to text him, mostly just stupid stuff; funny things that happened at work, dropping my phone and cracking my screen, jokes, crossword puzzle clues, ordering a new phone. When I told him about having to get a new phone, he seemed excited that I would have to come to Creston (where he lives) to get it activated and that there could be a chance that we could share a meal. This gave me hope, that he still wanted to continue the relationship, so we met for lunch just a couple of weeks ago. It was awkward at best, mostly because he greeted me outside his apartment building with two bags of stuff that I had left at his place (dishes, Kleenex, a shirt...). I have to admit, I was confused by this. Did he just want to see me to get rid of this stuff? Is he just cleaning me out of his apartment so that he can move on comfortably with is life?
We walked to a downtown restaurant and engaged in mostly small talk; stories about work, mutual friends, parents, and other random stuff. We never once discussed how we got to this point, or where we were going to go from here. We walked back to his place, he checked his mail and then invited me up to his apartment. I declined the offer, mostly because I was tired, but I was uncomfortable too, as if I was eating with a perfect stranger. His parting words to me were, "Keep in touch". Really, "keep in touch"!! Is your phone broken? Why do I have to be the one to "keep in touch"?
It took me a while to understand that I didn't want to be the one to "keep in touch". I wanted him to fight for me, for the relationship. I believed that if he truly loved me (the way I loved him) that he would be dying to talk to me, to tell me he missed me, that he loved me, and he would want to know how things were going. I texted him maybe once after we had lunch, hoping to start a conversation, but as soon as he was done talking about the question I asked, that was it, no more texts.
I finally decided to tell him all the things I was feeling and what I wanted from him. I wrote out this long text about how I wanted him to fight for me, for the relationship, I wanted someone who could love me even when I'm down and depressed, someone who would remind me that only God's opinion of my mattered. In the last line of the text, I told him that the ball was now in his court, and you know what I got back....Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.
So, I waited...one day, then two, three, four. On day six, I went to counseling (the first since my counselor went on vacation). She asked me how things were going with him, and I told her that I felt that it was over. I haven't heard from him at all since that text, and we're currently on day 10. I wasn't really expecting a quick response, but maybe a "Got your message, thinking it over", but when I got nothing back for days, I was sad, disappointed. I honestly keep checking my phone, hoping that he'd text or call, but he's obviously decided that being with a woman who struggles with anxiety and depression is too much work for him. I'm not good enough to be with him. Maybe that's what hurts the most.
You see, I knew from day one that some day I'd be in this position, but I still wanted to believe that it was possible that someone could really love me, all of me, crazy and all. I allowed myself to be happy, to believe that it could be real, all the while waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to decide that we weren't meant to be. That weekend, celebrating his birthday in Des Moines, I remember telling him that if he were going to change his mind about our being together, that he do it before he put a ring on my finger (one that he'd supposedly already bought). Looking back, that's exactly what happened, just not how I envisioned it.
So, I guess my boyfriend and I broke up, but I wish I knew if he ever really loved me.
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