At Least He Had the Courtesy To Dump Me

Sunday, I got dumped. I got released from a roller-coaster of a relationship that I am just now beginning to really comprehend. There were hints all along, but the big picture eluded me.

He came to church to sit with me. He didn’t offer his hand for the first time, ever. I took it anyway.

I wanted to hold his hand. But in the middle of the sermon, he said, “I don’t think this is working out. I need to be able to have more time with you. The way things are right now, my needs are just not being met.”

I seriously didn’t know what to do. I let go of his hand. Tears just flowed into my mask. I was so very glad that no one was able to see anything behind that mask.

I felt confused. Why did he come to church? Why did he want to sit with me and tell me we were finished? Why here?

I’ve never really been broken up with. It has been since college that I had a man tell me that he was moving on… or rather, moving back to a life with a previous girlfriend. That happened a few times. I just loved being the rebound and not knowing it.

As a woman in my late 40’s and single for the first time since I was 19, I wasn’t ready. This relationship with him lasted almost 2 full years. My marriage was 27 years…28 till it was final. But it had died, slowly and painfully for at least 2 decades. This…this was so sudden.

Monday, I gathered his things from my house…so many things. Socks, the popcorn maker, the coffee grinder, the drill gun. His favorite coffee mug, his teas, and his sweatshirt all went into a bag.

I dreaded the moment I would drive up to his house…the house he just moved into; a house with a wonderful fireplace and a snuggly couch. It is a house I had looked forward to many days and nights in. He had just gotten there. Nothing of mine had even moved in yet.

Good for him. He cannot look around his house and be reminded of me. I do not have that luxury. He is everywhere in my house, my garage, the barn, and the land. We had worked together everywhere on projects. It had been so good to have someone to help for the first time in my life.

I dropped my daughter at school and drove to his house. I parked in the snowy parking lot and up the snowy sidewalk. He had not shoveled at all.

I rang the doorbell and saw him appear. He looked terrible. He was still in his PJ’s and unshaven. He looked like I felt. He let me in and I went to the kitchen to unpack all of the things I brought.

Everything I brought was met with a, “Oh, you can just keep that. I don’t need it.” But I didn’t want to keep them. It hurts to keep them. And I need to move on somehow.

He made me some tea and we went to the living room. The couch was covered in white laundry to fold. We folded the laundry and put it in the basket. I sat down. He went to the other side of the room to sit. I already felt so alone. What was happening? Why is he giving up on me…on us?

Nothing made sense.

And then he said, “I have some things I need to talk to youabout. I’ve been trying to tell you for a long time, but your life has been upside down with the divorce and all. And I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. It was just too much.”

I am still completely unaware of what is going on. I am thinking, “Yeah, things have been hard. And yeah, sometimes my life’s drama is too much and overwhelming. I get it. Let’s talk about you.”

But no…I’m totally missing it.

“Last Fall”, he says. “Last Fall I was at home one night and a girl-a climber friend of mine came over. She was sad about the loss of Michael (a mutual friend who committed suicide) and wanted to talk. She was a little drunk and she stayed late.”

I AM STILL TOTALLY LOST. WHY IS HE TELLING ME THIS?

“I slept with her. I don’t know why, but I did”, he said. “I’m really sorry and have gotten tested three times, just freaked out that I did that.”

I stood up in disbelief. “OH MY GOD!”, I yelled. OHMYGOD, ohmygod, ohmygod…all the way to the bathroom, door locked, sobbing, slapping the floor. OHMYGOD!

I stayed there for a while, sitting safely on the floor, wishing I had something to throw, to hit, or the guts to break something. I don’t. I didn’t.

I went back into the living room. I stood there, against the wall, listening to his apologies, his explanation…the reason he knew he had to be done with us.

I was the most wonderful woman he could ever have hoped for. I was the most loving, compassionate, amazing mother. I was beautiful and talented…a true goddess, he told me.

And yet, we are done. We are done because he is not ready to have a real relationship and what he did proved it.

His inability to manage himself is the reason we are done. It’s nothing I did. It’s nothing I could have prevented. It’s all him.

As much as I believe his words, it still does not make sense. How could I love someone so much who just hurt me more than I have ever been hurt before? I already miss him. I miss his hands, his shoulders, his voice in the middle of the night. I miss the intensity of his love-making, the absolute worshipping of my middle-aged body.

I miss it all. And I cannot imagine life without it.

According to my sister-in-law, this is just classic break-up grief. I have never known this. The slow, simmering dissolution of my marriage was not like this. It hurt for-e-ver. But it never hurt like this.

Sunday I had cried so much that I was parched, no matter how much water I drank. Yesterday was no different. It is over. And it was not about me at all.

At least he had the guts to come clean and let me move on…someday.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

***