The Things My Last Breakup Took Away From Me
On Having To Say Goodbye To Friends And Acquaintances
I had time to spare this morning, so I decided to get off the bus one stop early and walk the additional distance to the office. I stopped at a crosswalk, patiently waiting the light to go green, when I saw him.
He was riding a bycicle and didn’t seem to notice me when he passed by my side; he had to pay attention to semaphores and pedestrians and cars and other bycicles. And so he pedaled until he disappeared from sight.
We had met only a few times in the last five years. He was tall and his voice was nice and deep; I always thought he could have been a wonderful radio announcer. He seemed a friendly and kind person, but reality was I hardly knew him.
He is one of the many acquaintances my ex has.
It’s been more than one year and a half since my ex and I broke up. To put things into context, we had been together for almost five years, were living together for a full year and, basically, he wanted kids and I didn’t — and still don’t. The breakup — in May 2016 — seemed necessary to both of us; it was a coherent step in our lives. There were tears and pain, but there was also relief. We did what we had to do. It made sense in May, and in still made sense in June, July and August. We appreciated each other and were wishing to be friends.
In September, though, all hell broke loose.
I still had some of his stuff at home — a DVD, a pair of cufflinks, a T-shirt — that I wanted to give him back. We met at the same old bar we used to go with our mutual friends. We smiled, kissed on the cheeks as Spanish people do, ordered two beers and talked about unimportant things. He seemed nervous, though; almost uncomfortable. “That’s normal”, I thought. “We are becoming strangers. That’s part of the process”.
But suddenly, he told me that he believed a friend we shared was the love of his life.
Yes, he used those exact words, only four months after our breakup.
The breakup seemed necessary to both of us; it was a coherent step in our lives. There were tears but there was also relief. We did what we had to do.
Listen, I knew this was going to happen. I knew he was in a kind of rush to meet that “special one” who would want to raise a family with him, and I was ready to hear the news, as I was ready to be happy for him, because he had been a very important person in my life and I really appreciated him. But I was unquestionably not ready to accept the fact that he was in love not with someone I didn’t know, but with a red-haired girl who, not so coincidentally, had been my best friend’s girlfriend.
This red-haired girl had broken up with my best friend only six months before us. They had been together for four years, during which we had travelled together with other friends and lived lots of experiences, as any group of friends would do. I had trusted her and even confided some of my doubts and fears to her when my relationship started to fall apart.
He told me that he believed a friend we shared was the love of his life.
I felt betrayed.
My ex knows quite a bunch of people. My friends list on Facebook grew about a hundred new friends in the years we were together, which, at least to me, feels like a lot. Some of them I had only met once or twice, but all of them were nice and seemed genuinely happy to know that their friend’s girlfriend was a nice and even funny person—or at least that I was not a social weirdo.
We were invited to many weddings and birthday parties, some of them of people I barely knew. It felt tiresome sometimes, but on the whole I had fun, and all that people slowly entered my life. Still, I could feel that none of them would be a close friend to me. Most of the times our interests and lifestyles were somewhat different — for instance, I’m not into hiking, but I enjoy a visit to a museum. Only a few of them seemed truly interested in knowing me better; for the rest of them, I suppose I was just their friend’s girlfriend, after all.
We also met new people together. Some of them we got to know through friends of mine; others we met while studying Japanese. Only a few I met on my own, mostly on Twitter.
What I still don’t understand is how almost all the people who had known me for five years accepted so rapidly not only my absence, but a totally new and unknown person replacing me right away.
After our breakup, almost all people disappeared from sight. No messages, no beers, no contact at all.
As I mentioned above, our breakup was painful but quite simple and coherent, the only reason being the disagreement regarding kids. I suffered the most, I presume. Suddenly, many things in my life were changing: I started living alone, the flat felt too big and empty, and many habits didn’t make sense anymore. In order to recover, I needed to distance myself from all the things that reminded me of a relationship that I had unwittingly taken for granted. In other words, I didn’t have the strength or will to see certain people. Since most of them were his friends and not mine, I also found it awkward to contact them.
Likewise, nobody seemed to want to know how I was doing. I never knew what my ex was telling his friends about what had happened, but because of a brief conversation with a friend of his whom I accidentally run into, it seems that he didn’t even explain the little detail about having kids. How could he ever admit that he forced our breakup because he was in love with another person?
Another thing I still don’t understand is how almost all the people who had known me for five years accepted so rapidly not only my absence, but a totally new and unknown person replacing me right away. And believe me, she was replacing me, in birthday parties and other meetings she was not expected nor even invited to, only six months after our breakup.
Again, I felt betrayed.
My circle of friends has gotten pretty small. Nevertheless, I feel thankful to this modest group of friends who stayed by my side, looked after me and cheered me up when I was upset, infuriated or sad. It has been tough for all of us, and I feel indebted to all of them.
One or two mutual acquaintances still contact me through Twitter from time to time, and I really appreciate that too.
The light went green and I moved forward, with my head slightly headed towards the place where the guy in the bycicle had disappeared. I didn’t even remember his name; I could only recall the nickname he had always used on Facebook and Instagram.
I got a bunch of mixed feelings. On the one hand, all of a sudden many images hit my mind: memories of places and situations that would never return. On the other hand, I really wanted to talk to this guy, to know how things were going for him. I wanted to ask about his son — or was it a daughter? I wanted to let him know that I’m not dead; that I’m still angry, but that I don’t hate any of the persons I got to meet during all those years; that although it may seem awkward, I miss most of them; and that maybe, just maybe, we could still be in touch and have a coffee one day?
But foremost, I wanted to know what he thought about the situation. Whether he somewhat missed me or not, or if he had just aknowledged what happened with a nod and no questions. I longed to know what he truly thought about his so-called friend.
Maybe these are questions I shouldn’t be asking myself. I should look forward without regret; I should just shrug my shoulders and pretend that I don’t care. But the thing is that I DO care. I still feel betrayed by friends and acquaintances, and this is a wound which is going to take longer to heal than the one my ex and his red-haired gilfriend inflicted.
I wanted to let him know that I’m not dead; that I’m still angry, but that I don’t hate any of the persons I got to meet during all those years; that although it may seem awkward, I miss most of them; and that maybe, just maybe, we could still be in touch and have a coffee one day?
That’s the reason I’m writing this: to help myself heal this wound, because I don’t want it to negatively impact any future relationships with other people. I don’t want to end up believing that, in the end, human relationships are worthless, although right now that’s a pretty tempting idea.
Yes, there’s hatred and animosity in my words, but I know they will fade away in time. I also know there are many social networking sites such as Facebook and Instagram to keep in touch with people, but honestly, I’m too tired of both the way people uses them and of algorythms — but that’s another story and shall be told another time, as Michael Ende would say.
As you can see, I’m full of contradictions. I miss people, but I don’t want to meet them. I would like to say goodbye, but it would feel awkward; what would I say, after all? Maybe I’m the only one overthinking and caring too much about these things. Anyway, I feel all this is also part of the healing process of a wound that has lead me to become mistrustful and wary of others.
And one day these feelings, like everything else in life, shall also come to an end.
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English is not my first language, so in case you found any grammar or spelling errors, just let me know and I’ll correct them. Thank you!
