Sunday, March 6, 2016
Today I broke up with a guy I'd been dating for about half a year. It wasn't a real break up, because it wasn't a real relationship. (Not much physicality. No formalities. Just the shared knowledge that we weren't just friends.)
I'm not a break-uper. I'm a "please get the message"er. But, along the road of maturity, a little bit of enlightenment has come upon me: It is better to get broken up with than to be ignored endlessly. It is at least less awkward.
So I """broke up""" with a guy with which I'd only kissed. I sort of felt like I owed him that and wanted to spare the awkwardness of future encounters in a tiny country such as Chile.
I'm just not that involved in this, and I thought it would be unfair to continue stringing you along.
It was quick, it was easy, and I was a little bit too happy about that while he wallowed over his coffee. Oh bitchy unsensitive me.
Alas! Lesson learned: One must break up.
Even if one is not sure why one is breaking up.
Even if one faintly suspects that one has severe psychological traumas that will not allow us to settle.
Even if one suspects that said psychological trauma has left us pining for the same guy who does not love us back for a number of years.
Bye, lovely readers,