Editor’s note: In case you missed them, catch up on Nikki’s previous Dating Diaries posts here.
I don’t have much to say this week. My ex-boyfriend and I are exes once again. I suppose to most people that’s not surprising, but I don’t really feel like defending the fact that trying again was what I wanted to do.
What is there left to say after talking for hours and hours again and again about why you want to be together but how there are so many reasons why you can’t be? The past four weeks have been some of the most emotionally draining of my life, maybe even more so than the months after we first broke up and I cried all the time. Then I had more emotion than I knew what to do with. Now I just feel…tired.
It was a whirlwind reunion, with really happy moments just talking and playing, really, like kids in a blanket fort, holding hands and eating peanut butter pretzels in our pajamas and trying to watch Friday Night Lights but actually just making out instead. We said we loved each other and we meant it. But when we were apart I was so afraid of him leaving me again — which of course he will no matter what come July when he moves to Vietnam or wherever — that I was always anxious and paranoid.
Now, just a week before the one-year anniversary of our first date, it’s all over again and probably (though who would believe me?) for real this time. I think the sixth stage of grief is “feeling like a wrung out dish towel.” The psychologists forgot about that one. It comes after acceptance, which I might have finally hit after frequent backsliding, arguing, questioning, yelling, dating other people and finally hearing answers that I thought made sense.
I told this man that I loved him. I can count on one hand the number of guys who have heard that from me and the last one was years ago. It’s kind of hard to come back from that. I can acknowledge that the relationship is over and I’m ready to put it behind me, aside from the fact that so many things remind me of him, but I can’t imagine a time when I won’t care about him, much less love anybody else.
That sounds normal and healthy, I guess, at least for a while, but other parts of the equation are out of character for me. I don’t believe in soul mates, I don’t believe in getting married young and I think love is a lot of work. But with him, the completely irrational thought that he was The One began to creep in, along with the fear that he was The Only One and no one else I would ever meet would get along with me the way that he does. This makes no sense! Stop that, brain!
Related: When Your Ex Drags You Back To Hell
So yeah, we’re broken up again. I don’t even want to tell my friends about how and why, or cry about it or write about it in my journal. I don’t think I’ve learned anything about life or love or myself this time around. I just want to sleep 10 hours a day and watch only comedies and hang out with my cat. You guys can wake me either when my ex actually does finally move away or with a margarita in hand. It better be one of the two.