About 6 weeks ago I met a 12 out of 10 at a dive bar, with a bunch of friends at a Christmas party. This guy & I talked and laughed and closed the bar down and kissed at the end of the night .
Jackpot.
Twelve was charming and smart and tall (I’m 5’10 so I LOVE tall) and charismatic. We kept dating and it kept getting better.
The last guy I dated overstayed his welcome and I broke it off. The guy before that was only good for one thing. The dude before that and I had different views on politics, but I kept him around for all the wrong reasons.
12 was different. From attractive and rich to emotionally intelligent and a good listener, he checked off more boxes than were on my list.
I decided to be very intentional with this one. Dating him unlocked a layer of protection I’d put up over the past five years. I’d cry with my therapist, confused by these amazing feelings that hurt so much. Her delicate and perfect combination of words would make me feel safe and secure moving forward.
I consciously reacted to all too familiar things in different ways. When triggered, I sat, and felt, and journaled, and hung out with my friends and did things to fill me up. I healed the wounds from the past to make sure not to project them all on to him.
It was exciting to be excited about someone again. It felt good to gush about him with my friends. It was a dream come true to finally plan double dates with all my friends who’d been in relationships for so long.
And yesterday… after a beautiful bubble bath… I checked my phone.
“Hey, are you free to talk?”
Sent 20 minutes ago. Fuck.
“Yeah - all ok?”
2 minutes later, the phone rang.
I took a deep breath.
“Hey, I respect you enough not to waste your time. I just don’t feel a spark the way I want to after this kind of time with someone. You’re incredibly beautiful, the sex is great, we have so much fun, I just don’t feel the spark. And want to waste your time”.
Side note: I cant tell you how many times in the last 5 years I’ve had men say these exact words to me.
I stood in the kitchen a little struck. It was like whiplash. All of a sudden this little made up future for us is gone. My weekend was now open with no plans of a date or sleep over. I waited for the pain. I waited for the hurt. The disappointment to hit. I waited for the tears.
Nothing.
I called my friend in shock, she’d then in shock, we both share the same bummed out sigh. Another one bites the dust. 5 cigarettes and 90 minutes later, I got off the phone and went about my evening. Feeling…fine.
Things come into our lives to test us, to teach us, to help us. And this experience TRULY 100% was that. It was exactly what I needed at the time, and it’s OK that it ended. I thought about our imagined future and watched it evaporate, knowing full well “if not this, then better”.
And I woke up this morning feeling free. And empowered. It’s the first time in my life I’ve felt this way after a breakup, and I think this is what this article is about.
What I could have done differently? Nothing.
Should I feel an all-encompassing amount of shame for screwing up again? Absolutely not.
Is there guilt about not being pretty or skinny or sexy enough? Fuck no..
With that, I went about my day and decided to look up “risotto”. Why? Who fucking knows. But it’s a meal I’ve been avoiding to make for as long as I’ve had a kitchen.
The freedom I feel as a woman I’ve grown into, the woman I finally enjoy being and the woman that one hundred million percent deserves someone who is incredible, was new.
After this break up, I felt free. Instead of being so sad that this incredible relationship with Twelve would save me, fix me, fill the missing gaps in my life, show me my worth, I feel like it was a gift.
It was a lesson; a bridge to the next big thing. It was a reflection of myself worth and the ability to respect his decision instead of making it about me and my flaws, Twelve was the human who helped me take down a shield I’d put up to protect myself.
And for all of that, I’m more grateful than I am sad.
I tried something and got father than I ever have. It didn’t go in the direction I’d planned but it took me where I know I need to be. And I went ahead and tried my hand at mushroom risotto. And it’s fucking delicious.
