The Breakup Letters

In the wide world of dating, we rarely get a neat and tidy ending. More often than not, there is no closure, no final conversation, no clearing of the air when something ends, especially with those less formal relationships, situationships, and connections.

So over the years, I have given myself the gift of closure. I write breakup letters to all the men who exit my life. In the past, these have mostly lived in my diary. But now, I think there is some value to letting them get some air and see the light. So here’s a selection from my, erm, private collection:

Dear Dating Guy,

I’m writing this because I know you won’t. You will protest, couching your cowardice in claims of not being “really communicative with anyone.” But we all know the truth about that - it’s a lie. You’re not bad at texting - you just don’t want to text me. You’re not against being serious with someone - you just don’t want to be serious with me. You’re not ill equipped for emotional conversations - you just don’t have feelings for me.

There was enough value and fun in our time together that it seemed worth pursuing, but perhaps we’ve come to the end of our road. I was around long enough to be your rebound-turned-pawn in a scheme to open up your relationship with someone else. Now, you have made a fool of me and are not man enough to face me down to end it.

Go fuck yourself, you selfish prick. Don’t call here again.

Sincerely,

The Best Pussy You’ll Ever Have

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hey - it’s been nice to hear from you these last couple weeks. But I want to ask - what are you looking for from me? I’m a little confused - do you want to hang out again? Hook up? Just needing a little attention? Keeping me warm on the roster? I’m trying to sort out if we are on the same page. Clarity would really help me.

I thought about what you said - thank you again for that. The reason I asked is because I did catch a lil bit of feelings last year. And when you sent me those lovely jungle night sounds, it stirred some feels up. I like you - you’re smart and fun and interesting. I’m attracted to you. I think you like me too. I’m just not up for a casual, no labels thing at this point. I’m not looking for domestic bliss or moving fast or anything - but I do want to date you.

I’m down to hang out again if you’re interested in dating for real. But otherwise, I’d prefer it if we weren’t in touch. Totally respect if you’re not in that mindset or looking for that right now. DMs are always open if you change your mind.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

My first love came back into my life in my mid-20s unexpectedly. What bugged me about his reappearance was “what was bugging me for the last ten years? why have I let this guy drive me nuts for so long?” And I think I finally figured out what it was. So instead of writing about it the normal way, I present to you this entirely fictitious conversation between him and me (presumably many years down the road, a few beers deep).

Him: So, we didn’t talk for a long time. Like, years.

Me: Yeah. I was mad at you.

Him: Why? What did I do to make you so upset with me that our friendship just stopped?

Me: You know, for a long time, I thought it was that you broke my heart. Or you hurt my feelings. Or you rejected me. Or something along those lines. But now that we’re friends again, I’ve realized that wasn’t it.

It was that I felt a connection. A really close one. Unrivaled by any guy before or since. And only a few have come close. It was so palpable, so thrilling, so real. I know a lot of that was crazy teenage girl hormones. I really do. But it went beyond that. Hormones are not to blame for everything that we said to each other and everything you meant to me.

You were not always so wonderful. Especially towards the end, you started treating me like just another female , another fangirl or another not-so-secret admirer. The way you behaved towards me sent this message that not only did you not feel the same way, but that maybe you never cared about me as intensely as I had thought. I fell completely and you let me and you didn’t catch me and you didn’t care that I fell.

You can’t help who you had feelings for and who you didn’t. Neither can I. We were 16, 17, 18. We were both complete idiots. Even if you had felt that way about me, I doubt either of us would have gotten our shit together enough to figure out how to not entirely ruin whatever was growing between us.

But for whatever reason, I thought you felt this connection too. I deeply held a conviction that you and I were destined to be a part of each other’s lives. While now, these ideas seem absolutely absurd, they were SO real for SO long, at a time that is meant to be a crucible for the rest of our lives.

I was mad at you for so long because I was really, truly, deeply afraid that you did not feel the same connection to me. That this was a one-way street. I had had crushes before and I knew this was very, very different. And I was terrified that I was suddenly in this very, very different place alone, despite having been led there by you.

I was afraid it was all in my head. 

It didn’t end particularly well. I tried so, so, so hard to forget about you. I really tried. When each new crush came forward, he was compared to you. Each one of them both exceeded you with ease and yet could never measure up to you.

The ones who came close - they are a pretty mixed bag of woulda, coulda, shouldas. The ones who I had the strongest feelings about were often the ones that went really nowhere. I’m still relationship-less. I’m still un-spoken-for. Unclaimed luggage seeking a weary traveler. Even when it feels written-in-the-stars, too-perfect-to-be-true, where-does-coincidence-stop-and-fate-start strong, it never worked out. Not once.

So it seems that my history confirmed what I learned from you: that my deepest romantic feelings are unfounded. That it’s all in my head.

So, all these years, I’ve wanted to know if you ever felt that same intense connection, that shared sense of fate. But I was too chicken to pick up the phone to ask you, because I was terrified of the answer.

Him: Well, I…..

Me: Nope. I don’t want to know. Because if the answer is yes, you felt that way even for a minute and I’m not crazy and destined to be alone, that I sing at the same frequency as all the other whales, then great. That doesn’t change my overall situation and so provides no actual comfort.

But if the answer is no, that I was simply a great friend who shared a few summers under the sun in the prime our youth, that I wasn’t special, then my heart would truly be broken. My understanding of what these feelings are when they come up completely changes and I would become terrified of them instead of welcoming of them. Instead of being open to love, I would become closed, scared, and twisted into bitterness.

It’s funny to think that my entire romantic sanity rests on the answer to this one question [Note: ok, MAYBE that’s a little overdramatic, but this is a work of fiction, after all], so I’d rather leave it unanswered than know for sure and possibly crumble.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

My extremely long-winded point here is that some loose ends are not meant to be tied and some questions should be left unanswered. May we all gain the ability to dance with the ambiguous and unknown, instead of licking our wounds on the sidelines.