No Break-Up

Yesterday, I read through the comments on the previous post. The concept that resonated the most was “Wait and see what happens when the ex-girlfriend moves here.” I am a very wait and see sort of girl. It’s the only rational course of behavior. Otherwise you’re just dealing with make-believe and paranoia. I truly believe that patience is the key to a healthy relationship.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

The comments that resonated the most were "Dump Re-Boyfriend," because seriously, I cannot walk around with a stomachache for months, living on borrowed relationship time and trying not to vomit. I decided to take a break from Re-Boyfriend and give him all the ex-girlfriend loving time he needed. Since the last argument had gone so hysterically wrong with the crying and the yelling (yes, that would have been me) I decided that I should be in a public place this time and, more importantly, not drunk.

Things started to go awry when I met my mother for dinner. We had two glasses of wine. Things went further awry when my mother advised me to “pretend” break-up with him, just to see what he would do. She likes to study Zen Buddhism, meditate and talk about the meaning of life, but when it comes to practical matters her advice is never guided by a higher meaning and in fact shows a blatant disregard for “doing the right thing.”

CB: I don’t think that’s, like, mature.
Mom (with dismissive hand motion): Whatever.

Then Re-Boyfriend called and said he had to stay in his apartment to open the door for a keyless roommate.

Fine. Maybe the “not drunk” and the “in a public place” conditions had been thwarted but I would stick to the truly important thing—the speech.

“I think we should take a break while your ex is here. You can figure things out and then, a few months later, we can talk about getting back together. I just don’t want to be your girlfriend while you figure out how to be, or if you can be, friends with your ex.”

I was so rational. It was beautiful. I didn’t even feel like I might cry.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. I can't let you do that.”

"Is this like a George Costanza thing?"

"We are not breaking up."

“I didn’t say that, I said ‘take a break’.”

“No.”

We had reached an impasse.

The situation was resolved when Re-Boyfriend began to look panicky and said he wouldn’t see the ex at all, ever, if that was what I wanted. (Though he did add, "I just feel really mean.")

As soon as he said that, I felt a lot better, benevolent even. Would it really be so bad if he saw her once in a great while?

Then I thought I might have been, unwittingly, a little manipulative.

Then I thought I might be a lot closer to the stereotypical crazy female than I would like to believe.

Then I thought, “Whatever.”