I thought I knew hurt. I’ve been around the block. I know from pain. You lose your first love. It hurts. You stumble into living with someone – no promises made, but things don’t work out. It hurts. Then you meet the loser who calls you “unlovableâ€. That hurts.
All painful. All hard to bounce back from.
But nothing, nothing is as soul-destroying as growing with someone, loving them, hearing them tell you in no uncertain terms that you are the woman they want to spend the rest of their living, breathing days with, then having them turn around and knock you out cold with the explanation that they just don’t see it working out and they want to call it quits. No couples therapy. No conversation. No second chances. Just “thank you, please leaveâ€.
It makes the object of your devotion a liar. It makes your own efforts at compromise and patience and perseverance in the face of all obstacles look stupid.
It really, really hurts.
Justin dumped me today. And I use the word dumped because it was sudden, decisive and casual, just like taking out the trash. Three years of living together, sleeping next to one another, waking up beside one another, going to funerals and marriages together, shopping for light fixtures together, planting a garden together, buying major appliances and a bed and a computer together, surviving hospital visits, unemployment, depression, graduation, family troubles,. And in the course of one day, it ends.
Everyone has their reasons for these things, and although I’m still a little fuzzy on this, it seems that my asking for the gift of a ring this Christmas, as a symbol of our commitment, was suggestive enough of marriage being really important to me, that Justin felt he needed to head for the hills. He has made it very clear that, (despite what I was led to believe when we were first dating and things were peachy), marriage is not something he believes in or wants to be part of in any way.
Never mind the fact that we’re already common-law partners, with him claiming insurance from my benefits and me listed as his beneficiary. And what does a ring mean anyway? Some people (and I’m thinking of close family members of Justin’s here) exchanged rings over a decade ago, with no signs of marriage on the horizon any time soon. It’s just a symbol, a concrete symbol that tells the world that two people are linked to one another, for better or for worse.
So now, I’m homeless and heartbroken. Life is looking a lot like this: I need to find an apartment, right away, that I can afford on my own. Because I am currently back home, living with my Mom – bless her heart – after ten years of independence. Did I mention that I’m reaching the end of my twenties here? This just isn’t right.
While packing to leave, I moved a lot of books very quickly today and cried quite a lot, and the two actions together appear to have sprained something quite painfully in my lower back. I took a bath to soothe my aching muscles, and did a quick survey of the ol’ body. Maybe I’m getting ditched because I’ve lost my sex appeal?
I am about to call a wrap on my twenty-ninth year of life, and after three decades, some things doubtless start to soften a little around the edges. Regular croissant consumption and irregular gym visits are also contributing factors to my less-than-perfect figure. But still, the basic hourglass remains. Legs could do with a good shave, but they’re struggling against the deadly duo of winter weather and long-term relationship sloth.
I saw a hickie on my shoulder and for a moment was filled with joy at some small physical reminder of Justin’s mouth on my skin. Then I remembered that I just carried two massive backpacks from Toronto to Oakville, and I bruise easily, so no. In the mirror, my face has the puffy shine of overexposure to tears, and my eyes are bloodshot. Nothing here worth shooting for Playboy. I’ve changed back into the jammies my mother has loaned me, and prepare for the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Where are you, Justin? Do the sheets still smell like me? I miss you, you jerk.