Wow, that analogy is sitting so well for me. It can extend, too. Like X was in charge of one of the taps and i had the other, and even though i was willing to keep turning my tap to get the right temperature you can't do it by yourself. You'll freeze!! And the bath was beautiful and warm at the beginning, but it's time to get out. That feels good in my brain.
So I messaged Jay again saying that I felt gross about the way I went about it, and that if he didn't want to reply to me or if he even needed to block me because i made him feel uncomfortable that was ok. I also apologized for sending him that message at all, because it was probably something I should process, not him. But it turned out messaging him was the right thing because we've cleared the air of any awkward feelings. He calmed me down, but I didn't lean on him too much. We went back to playful chatting about other life things and that bad feeling in my gut has gone away.
I canceled some tinder dates I had set up. I don't want to go looking for anyone right now. I think my focus is going to be to finish university and find the best job, and I will attract the kind of person I want by being magnetic to them, not by hunting and then trying to give my all. If that doesn't happen for a long time, that's ok. I haven't 'lost', I'm not doing being a "successful human" wrong whatever the good hell that means.
Jacob, I write and do yoga! I watch this wonderful youtube channel called 'yoga with adrienne'. Straight after my breakup I was doing her video 'yoga for heartbreak' while I was snotting and crying and dribbling on my yoga mat.
I wrote a poem about X, to process and remind myself it wasn't the right relationship anymore.
Letter to my Ex-Boyfriend:
Firstly, I typed ‘ex-boyfriend’ and needed to cry for a minute.
Here is your letter.
I love you in the ugliest, ugliest way. I love you greedily. I love you because I wanted you to be perfect and because I got so good at sweet talking myself.
You were so sweet. Gentle boy.
When you try a girlfriend on for size again, consider these pointers:
When ‘your boys’ ask you what you’re up to that evening, you can try to pretend that is not why your girlfriend is suddenly getting dropped off. Maybe don’t light up in a way she hasn’t seen all day because your buddies want to get shit faced with you. Or maybe do light up like that. Be brighter. Make it more transparent so she doesn’t make my mistakes.
When she asks for more of your time and you say no:
I know you are chasing your dream. I know the world needs another filmmaker and that has got to be you, with your symmetrical cinematography that Wes Anderson hasn’t already nailed and we totally still need to see more of. But I want you to picture that house in your head that you told me about. The house out in the countryside, run down and quiet.
Can you tell me how you get there entirely by yourself, and how happy you are that you had no one by your side? Can you tell me how nice it is to walk through that big empty house? If it were me, I’d want a partner in there, but evidently you don’t need that. You’re too busy for a relationship right now so I doubt you’d get any more free time once you achieve that big dream of yours alone.
One of the signs of meticulous work is when you can’t notice it. I was a fucking pro at ‘us’. At ‘us’ for you.
Every anxiety attack was given to someone else. Every panic was pushed away, brushed down. Do you remember how I cut myself for the first time in three years that one time? We got to laugh that off within the hour. I wanted what you wanted, when you wanted it, all the time. Isn’t that convenient? Do you remember the names of my lecturers? Do you remember the middle name of my new baby sister? Don’t worry about it. Not important.
Thank you for telling me my vet bills were expensive while you sat on your nearly-enough-for-a-deposit-on-a-house. Don’t get me wrong, you can do whatever you want with your money. I just would’ve helped my shaking, nervous girlfriend with a couple hundred bucks that meant nothing to me but meant food and rent for her.
And on that note, you have been sweet. Gentle. Good for me. But I have to say ‘fuck you’ about one thing:
My dog doesn’t know what she’s done wrong. She doesn’t know how misguided her hope is when she thinks she hears your car pull up outside and she runs to the door. She still chews the toys you got her and chases the ball you got down from the tree. She still loves you and loves you and loves you in the purest way.
But you have work to do.