“So, we really are breaking up.”
I guess that would always be the hardest thing one would ever have to admit when faced with the fact that a relationship is really over. Even having the courage to say it out loud and actually listen to the sound of your own voice seem a little surreal that you can only hope that the feeling of being ripped apart inside-out is nothing but a trick of the mind as well. Fact is, it’s not, and the worse part of it, it really won’t fade away for a very long time.
I’m not a really big fan of gray areas that’s why I had to ask her if it really was over while she was laying on my bed with her eyes closed. I thought it was all a big joke, I mean, she was in my bed, almost naked, and there she was telling me that it was over? Are you kidding me?
I didn’t really know what hurts the most; her looking at me intently to make sure that I get the message or hearing her say, “Yes, it’s really over.” I was like, wow, just go ahead and hit me with a bus and that would certainly be less painful.
For all the girls out there, “Guy’s have feelings too.”, even if it doesn’t really show most of the times, even if we always act like a complete jackass and assholes, we do get hurt. No one if ever born bullet proofed.
I never said this and I would definitely deny this if ever confronted but I was already on the verge of tears so I stood up and faced the door, ready to bolt and run as far away as I can. In my mind are words that I really wanted to say to make you stay but I just drowned them up all the cursing that was coming out of my mouth. Who springs a break up out of nowhere? Was I really that bad? Did you really even love me? Or more importantly, do you know how much I love you?
“Can we be friends?”
NO. Can we fool around, that I can deal with, but be friends, definitely not. Babe, I love you but you don’t get to break my heart and shit on it as well. And of course I did not tell all that. Instead, I grabbed a shirt, looked at the closed door and said, “I would need some time alone. Just lock the door when you leave.”
“Please don’t leave me here. I don’t like being left behind.” She said and believe me, my fist was really itching for one of the walls.
Again girls, just because we are guys we can take the emotional roller coaster that you seem to be very fond of better than you do. Look at the suicide rate. We don’t. We get hurt as much as you do and the fact that we can’t run to our friends and just cry our hearts out without being called a faggot doesn’t make us stronger, hypocrite yes, but never stronger.
Being the dutiful ex-boyfriend that I was, I sat down and held both her hands and my tongue and just looked down while she was crying.
“Just give me five minutes more then I’ll leave.”
My mind was all, “Why not make it an hour, or a week, or a lifetime.” but I kept my silence. She broke up with me. I won’t let her do more than that.
We stayed that way for the remainder of the five minutes she asked for.
“I’m not going to beg for you to stay. And we can’t be friends. So if you are leaving, just leave. You can’t just break my heart and still expect me to beg for you to stay.” I told her and stood up. She did the same thing.
“Are you still leaving?”
“Then don’t say that you are sorry. Just walk away.”
She tried hugging me but I wouldn’t let her.
“Just close the door when you leave. Your five minutes is up.” I told her and started out the door.