The Break Up

B and I are officially over. It’s an ending I knew was coming, one that I had even thought about instigating on a few occasions, and yet, the heartache I feel is enormous and very painful. I left Paris on September 1st and it was a very difficult goodbye. Though most of my friends had already left the city in the months leading up to summer, I was still clinging to all of the wonderful memories I had there over the past year. The last time I punched in the code for B’s apartment building, walked up the 101 steps to my apartment, bought a baguette at the Boulanger… it was so hard to grasp the fact that my Parisian adventure was coming to an end. Not to mention the fact that my relationship would shortly be coming to an end as well…
B took me to the airport that Monday morning and reminded me that he would be seeing me in just three days. Turns out B’s friend, who works for Air France, had a flight scheduled to NYC and would be able to get B on the flight practically for free. B would spend 5 days in New York and 5 in Maryland and we would make the most of our last days together. But the reality of our looming fate caused a lot of tension between us and we spent much of his trip arguing, until we were able to talk it out and fully acknowledge our sadness.
On September 14th, I drove B to the airport to catch his flight back to Paris. There was a problem with his reservation and the airline wouldn’t be able to get him on a flight till the next afternoon—the same day my mom and I were scheduled to fly down to Florida for a week to house hunt and visit a family friend. I was so happy we would have one more day together but since my folks would be with us at the airport the next day, we decided to say goodbye beforehand and stayed up late into the night, spilling out all the things that we didn’t want left unsaid. So on Monday afternoon (exactly 11 months and 6 days after our first date) our goodbye was brief and as we hugged each other for the last time, B whispered into my ear, “I’m coming back for you…”, got back into the car, blew me a kiss and drove away.
And just like that it was over. The thing is they don’t tell you it would be like this… the grief that weighs so heavily on your heart, the days that seem to drag on and on, the nights spent alternately praying for sleep because you’re so mentally and physically exhausted, and praying for morning so you don’t have to lie awake in a cold empty bed thinking about the man who’s no longer a part of your life. It hurts not being able to call him, ask about his day, talk to him about mine. And the saddest part is knowing I no longer have the right to.
But on top of it all, I just feel shame. Shame for being so devastated and helpless over something as “trivial” as a breakup. People go through it all the time, hell, they go through worse all the time. It’s not like anyone died. It’s only the end of a love affair, and one that I was going to end one day anyway. So what’s with all the melodrama? (It reminds me of the weeks after 9/11 and how I just felt so distraught; I refused to leave the city but all I could do was cry and sleep. And I hated myself for being that way because I didn’t truly have the right. I was one of the lucky New Yorkers, I didn’t know anyone who died in those Towers, it didn’t touch my life the way it did thousands of other people. And yet, the grief consumed me for weeks on end).
So now, all I do is cry. I never knew I would feel this physical weight of sadness over ending things with B. Its like I'm walking around in a fog and everything has lost its meaning and importance, I don’t feel up for doing anything at all. I’ll be ok for about 30 minutes, maybe an hour, and suddenly something reminds me of him and my throat closes up again. No more slow dancing in his living room, no more singing made-up songs to each other, no more staying up late at night telling stories, no more excursions around Paris and France and Europe, no more silly jokes… I’ll miss him looking into my eyes and telling me I’m beautiful, I’ll miss arguing with him to put on a pair of dress shoes instead of his beat-up Converse sneakers, I’ll miss his hugs…
The craziest part of the whole thing is that our breakup is simply due to the fact that we are now living on different continents. There was no fight, no cheating, no boredom, no loss of love, none of the typical reasons that relationships end. It just so happened that it was my time to leave Paris but not quite his. And although I don’t think this is the person God intended me to spend the rest of my life with, I wasn’t ready to give him up just yet. But that’s also the reason why I’m trying to steel myself to this pain. Because in time, I know it will pass and I’ll be happy in the decision that we made to go our separate ways. As much as I miss him now, I know it will get easier. And one day, hopefully, we’ll be good friends and learn how to be an important part of each other’s lives in a new way. But for now I suffer and try to go on the best way I know how. And I just pray to God for the strength to get through the days and for help to carry this new burden. They say you never get over your first love…