Friday, July 06, 2007 ++
Single and available
We broke up.
2 years. 2 fights in 1 day. The end.
Terrific. I'm at a loss for words.
Not that I'm terribly sad or anything, but there doesn't seem to be much to say about it. Of course, I feel the requisite strange feeling of not having someone to call at my every whim and fancy, not having someone to message just to say hi or just to say 'I miss you'. But then again, I feel... strange. Strange because I'm not that sad, at least not the kind of devastated sadness then I thought I would plunge headlong into, it's just a very stoic kind of hurt and... yeah. Simple as that.
We had a really bad fight earlier in the evening, because of some stupid argument about how he felt like I kept rejecting his suggestions on where to eat, and instead of making any constructive comments, I supposedly just continued to shoot his ideas down. This point of course I didn't agree with, and basically I just gave him the cold shoulder the entire evening. We fought when we reached his house, and things got so bad that he screamed at me. It seemed like he was shouting with all the rage he could muster, as if a whole lifelong's worth of anger just welled up in him like a sudden ferocious, unrelenting wave, and it all stormed forth in a spate of voracious fury. I wept, sobbing like a broken child, crushed not by his words, but by his ferocity. I can't take verbal abuse. I can't take the person I love most shouting at me like I'm his most vicious enemy, like he doesn't love me at all.
And the second fight ensued when I found out that he had done something taboo yesterday, and pretended not to know anything about it. When once again I gave him the silent treatment, he asked pointedly, "What's the big deal about it?"
Classic. Obviously he doesn't care one bit about how I feel. Previously I had already told him that I don't like him doing that at all, and we had a HUGE fight because of this. And it seems like he had just forgotten about all that and continued with his old ways. And when I discovered the fact that he was still doing it, he didn't give a shit. I mean, he actually said, "What's the big deal?" Well fine! Seems like my being hurt is not a big deal. My being sensitive towards that particular thing is not a big deal. My feelings are not a big deal, contrary to what he always proclaims. All those sweet words. That meant absolutely nothing at all.
Things reached breaking point when he sent me up in the elevator to my house. I told him to get out of the lift, but he vehemently refused and pushed me back into the lift with such violence that resembled what X is capable of. I can't remember what I said, but he retorted in such a vitriolic manner, "YOU'RE the fucking problem." Obviously, no girl with any pride at all would take that lying down, so after a few seconds of hurt, disappointment and anger raging dangerously within me, I uttered those words. No, rather, I spat those words out of my mouth.
"I want a break up."
At that point I seriously couldn't take any more. WTF? You don't care about my feelings, you call ME the fucking problem, you take me for a rag doll that you can push and pull and fuck around with anytime you want, and you think you can get away with it. NO FUCKING WAY. No prizes for figuring out what he said.
"You want a break up? Fine, FUCK OFF."
Just great isn't it. How heroic. How well-mannered. How well brought up this guy is. How highly educated. Isn't it amazing? His choice of vocabulary! Again, no girl would argue with a conviction this brutal. Damn tears started streaming down my face and my hand was trembling, so much so that I kept jangling the keys against the door. I could hear him hit out at the walls of the lift in frustration, but at that time all I wanted to do was get inside the house so that I could get away from this monster I never knew.
I guess I'm just hurt that he actually told me to fuck off. I mean wow, FANTASTIC! A few hours ago you were telling me that you wouldn't let go of me unless I said I didn't love you anymore, and here you are spinning around 180 degrees faster than I can say "bastard" and turning things on its head. Admirable isn't it, such decisiveness, such... Janus-like behaviour. And he DARES to call me fickle.
Oh well. Who gives a shit? I'm sorry darling, but I don't any longer. Once upon a wonderful time you were the man I longed for, but now you're worth no more than a memory.
Goodbye, and this time, there's no turning back.
Labels: the break-up
~Macaroon nibbles at 4:54 am
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