I like to keep things cinematic. Finding the right lighting, the right music, the right setting for as many aspects of my life as I can, or, at least for the one’s I’m in direct control of. My bedroom is perfect. Anyone who disagrees is misguided. The lighting, the art work, the presentation of said art work, the furniture, the piles of clothing ‘casually’ tossed over chairs and lamps… and especially the imperfections of the room. Note my queen sized bed with a king sized fitted sheet that manages to come undone and tangle itself with my body as the night progresses. Everything is part of the equation and they’re all ultimately perfect in creating a setting that is one-hundred percent chateau du thome mercedes. The ideal place to contemplate myself, my friends, the drama, what’s been before, what’s next, and the musical score to set it all to.
And if this blog were a TV adaptation, and this really were season two… this is the part where we’d need to hire the actor who played V back for a cameo appearance in the crucial break up flashback episode.
V and I broke up. I don’t consciously remember it being one thing in particular that caused it. Just that sudden, inexplicable change in feelings that happens after a time period and makes me nervous to get involved with any one person again anytime soon. If two people can both choose to invest seven months in one another and then one day, one of them just isn’t feeling it anymore… is that really the gamble we want to repeatedly take? Or when we finally let the right one in, is this not at all a problem? Or is this the point where two people decide to work at love? And if so, can I just hire habitat for humanity the next time I’m in a relationship? Because I’m fucking lazy.
I had stopped returning V’s calls and texts the weekend before the break up happened. I slipped in to introversion to contemplate my changing feelings towards him and didn’t bother to tell him I was doing so. I didn’t want him to know things were anything but fine… but when your significant other is dodging you for days, it becomes pretty obvious that things are awry. I had several conversations with friends about what was going on inside my head. I knew that I could stick around and work at it, but I also knew that I wasn’t positive that I wanted things to work out. I wanted what I always want, a constant stream of butterflies and mutual admiration. I was at a major stand-still – bored, unflinching, and day dreaming.
V came over towards the end of the weekend to call me out on my bullshit absence. He brought up our disintegrated sex life, my lack of talking about him to my family, my bouts of self-involvement, etc. And then he gave me what I viewed as an ultimatum. Stop wasting his time and leave him or commit to working on what we’d built. In my panicked brain, this easily translated to “now or forever.” He left, giving me a week to think it over. I immediately turned on The Way We Were starring Barbara Streisand before slipping in to my usual Sunday evening coma.
By the next morning I knew I didn’t need a week to think it over. And my body knew that it couldn’t survive letting the week pass either. I was so stressed out and overemotional. It was the beginning of my third week of a new job and I was already that guy who was almost crying on the sale’s floor, allowing his personal drama to effect him in the work place. After the shift was over and I’d sufficiently embarrassed myself in front of new co-workers, I used technology to find out where V was. This was also the day that I stopped using FourSquare.
It was nice out (birds chirping, and shit) and he was in a park that was on my walk home. My heart was beating out of my chest. And eventually I did it. I broke up with V. Through a strained voice and with sunglasses to hide sadness. There was silence for a while and then it was interrupted by him saying, “I want to say something. But everything I have to say is just me trying to get you to change your mind.” To which I said, “I want to say something, but I know if I do, I’ll just start crying.” Halfway through, I’d started sobbing.
He left. And then I was alone. And I realized that for the first time, I was alone in San Francisco. And at first that scared me. But then I saw the possibility.
next time on drown the children: the petty and sloppy break up episode
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