More than a Month

It’s been more than a month since my relationship ended. Being my longest relationship it’s been a big deal. I’ve been putting off writing about it because I wasn’t sure I’d figured out myself again. Now I have. It’s funny when people find out, the first thing they ask me is what happened? I have a hard time answering that question because I’m not entirely sure what happened. It started with me completely checking out. That’s a thing I’ve been known to do. I forget how good I have it, then sabotage the good stuff. I blame myself entirely for my relationship ending. Maybe that’s naive, I don’t think so. It was my fault. I stopped showing love for her. I became a really boring person. I didn’t lose myself, that’s what I thought at first. But I was there all along. I just needed to check out, so I hid the person she fell in love with deep inside. Hid that person away so they didn’t have to feel anything for while. That’s what ended my relationship. I stopped caring. Not for her. Oh gee. I still love her more than a few words on a page can express. But I stopped caring about the relationship, about the part that actually takes a lot of work. I had this fairy tale in my mind that with the right person it doesn’t take work, but that’s total bullshit. It takes a lot of work. You have to remind yourself everyday how important that person is to you, then you have to tell them. Always. Then there is probably a whole lot of other things that have to go into it. I’m still figuring out those other bits though.

It’s been more than my month since my ex-girlfriend found a new girlfriend. That’s been weird. I need to stop telling people this part. It makes her look like the bad guy. But I’m the bad guy. I’m the one that messed up. It’s only fair that she gets to find someone else to love so soon. Someone else who’s better looking, more successful, has cool hobbies. Then I also remember the new girlfriend is 11 years older than me and I can’t compare my level of career/life success to hers. But at some level I still do. I’m comparing her new relationship with her old one. Her new girlfriend with me. I realize I shouldn’t do that though, but that doesn’t stop me. The only reason I know so much about it is because I still live with ex-girlfriend, and I still care about her so I listen to her day. I listen when she tells me all about her new girlfriend and I wonder if I’m a masochist. Sometimes I wonder if she ever cared. She moved on so quickly, maybe she’d checked out months before I did. I’d rather blame myself though. It’s easier. Believing that she never really loved me. That’s harder than reconciling with the love I managed to lose.