DAY 7: The Breakup 20/90

It was in that moment that she burst into tears. Despite how tired I was there was no way I could leave her in that condition. I was the one that broke up with her, so of course it was slightly easier for me to sleep at night. That didn’t mean I cared any less about Monica or had filed the past three years away somewhere in my mental Rolodex and forgotten about tem, but as the unintentional instigator of our breakup it was easier for me to deal with. Monica, though, was blindsided last week. All she did was ask a simple question: Are you happy? My reply: I dunno.

"Anslem, I don't understand. What did I do wrong?"  

"You didn't do anything, Monica. It's just... I don't know what I want. I'm just in a different place and I need some space to figure things out."

"What the fuck does that mean? Is it someone else? If it is, just tell me."

"No, it's not. There isn’t anyone else. I didn't wanna break up with you, but you put me in a corner..."

"What?!?? I put you in a corner?!?1?"

"Nah, nah, what I mean is you asked if I was happy and I said I didn't know. I didn't. I still don't. I just answered the question. I didn't know you meant happy with us. You asked me a question and I responded. That's it. I guess I’m not happy with my life right now. I’m not where I wanna be."

"But what do you want? What is it that you're looking for?"

"Honestly, I don't know... But when you said if I'm not happy then why am I with you? I don't know.... What am I supposed to do or say after that?"

"But I don't understand, Anslem... What did I do that didn't make you happy?"

"It's not what you did or didn't do. You didn't do anything.... it's just... I don't know... You're a great woman and I appreciate everything about you, but sometimes... I just wonder what else is out there."

"So it is someone else? If it's that bitch Karen..."

"No, no, I told you it's that at all. Like I said, I'm just confused about what I want and where I wanna be...."

That's when I heard a bunch of male voices in the background. It sounded like Monica was on the street and a fight or something was breaking out.

"Monica, where are you?"

"I'm on ____ Blvd. walking."

"Walking where?"

"I don't know home I guess, I left Lisa's house down the block from you and was coming by you but you didn't answer so I just started walking."

"But it's almost 2:30 in the morning... Who are those guys in the background?"

"I don't know, just some guys arguing at the bodega..."

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"But that's like a 30-minute bus ride from here! You're gonna walk?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, my God, come on Monica catch the bus or a cab or something."

"I'd rather walk...."

"Fine, but I'm not getting off the phone until you get home."

"Okay."

Monica and I spent the next hour and a half talking while she walked home. Then almost another full hour talking some more about us, what went wrong and how we felt. It wasn't a conversation I wanted to have again. See, we had discussed this basically every night since we broke up. I had no ill malice towards Monica—she was a wonderful woman that I had spent three loving years with—but all those late night phone calls made part of me hate her (just a little bit). Why couldn't she let me sleep? Why couldn't we have a little space while this shit sorted itself out? Why couldn't she just move on instead of going through this every other night? I know how cold that sounds, but I’m just being honest about how I felt in that moment.

Trust me, I didn't want to have these feelings about a woman I had loved for three years, but I couldn’t help how I felt at that time and in that moment. A year earlier, anytime I saw Monica’s name on my caller ID I'd be overcome with feelings of jubilation and glee, but now her calls evoked feelings of impending stress and anger. I didn't want to feel that way about Monica, no not at all—I didn’t want to hear her cry or be the reason that she cried. These conversations were difficult and that's why I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to cry. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings until 4:53 in the morning.

But you know what? I did. No matter how much I didn’t want to deal with our breakup I had to. I know I was wrong and I was the one that caused the hurt. I'm just sorry for how things ended. Monica didn't deserve that. And I'm sorry if it seemed like I didn't care because I didn't wanna talk, but we all deal with things differently. She wanted to talk about it, while I wanted to avoid it and sweep it under the rug. Not to forget about it, but to deal with it later. Monica never did anything to make me stop loving her, it's just that we grew apart and went in different directions. Or maybe that was just me. At least that's how I feel about it now, but I always felt bad about how everything went down.

Of course, I still carry a bit of guilt in my heart for hurting Monica. I was just a young workaholic that put my career before her, put my new friends before her, and put my life before ours, and I'm sorry for that. That's my fault not hers. So when I wanted to get off the phone or dodged her calls, it wasn't because I didn't care it was because I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say to make things better. I fucked everything up and tried my best to make it better. I guess sometimes that meant forgoing sleep to stay up and talk with Monica until 4:53 in the morning—again.

A topic to be revisited???

UPDATE: The Break-Up (Prequel)