Little Bombs

Well, it’s been a while.

Of course, I’m only back because something big has happened.

For the first time in my life I have been dumped.

It happened out of the blue. I can’t say I’m completely disappointed by the result, but I am completely disgusted with how it happened. And he’s going to pay for it because I’m a vindictive bitch.

As far as I had been observing, we were having a fine spring break with the promise of more visits through the rest of the semester. We were getting ready for the next big adventure which would more than likely put us farther apart for a time, but we were so close. We were so close to finally being able to live in the same state.

It’s a little before 7 AM. I’ve started my car as it’s a bit chilly outside. As I’m loading my car, I feel happy. I feel happy that I’ve found my person that I can be myself with and be happy with. I come back inside to pack my computer away so I can put my backpack in the car and hit the road. He gives me a sad look then pulls me into the bedroom. I sit on the bed and he follows. He begins to sob, heavily. I’m confused, but slightly happy. I’m thinking that he’s upset that I’m leaving. It would be the first time I got a response like this. I think it’s a good sign. He begins, “I want to you know that I love you.”

I’ve already started going numb.

Background time!

Christmas Day, we got into a pretty massive fight. Being from different cultures and everything, we’re pretty different people with different ideals. We almost broke up. He said no. I said that if he was willing to work on it, I was too. I want this to work. I know we can make it work. It will take effort from the both of us, but it will work. And we will be happy. I was ready to do work. I was willing to do anything to save our relationship. I suggested that he see a therapist. I would have suggested couples counseling, but we’re in different states. He was not a fan of the idea, but agreed to it.

Spring semester starts. I begin looking up therapists. He freaks out. I decide to wait on this topic as he has a lot going on. Doctorate school auditions, recital, masters comps, he had more than enough. Although a therapist could have helped him cope with that, I felt that pressuring him was too much at that time. I haven’t mentioned it since.

Things were going fine. We had a lovely Valentine’s Day from my perspective. I knew he’d been having a rough time so I made him his favorite dessert plus an extra one. He gave me a cup with a plush lobster that said “You’re My Lobster” as a “F.R.I.E.N.D.S.” reference. I thought we were really on the upswing of things. I really thought we were going places.

His recital went well. His parents were in town and we had a good time. He passed his comprehensive exams. All was well.

We went to Lubbock, Texas for a saxophone conference. It was fine. There was stress beforehand as happens when traveling and not having things completely figured out. I’d also been crazy hormonal as my period was about to come. Around our friends and even together in private, he was loving, caring, and compassionate. He always had an arm around me, was holding my hand, or giving me sweet pecks on the cheek or lips. It wasn’t more or less than what he usually did. I was really happy.

We drove back to Bloomington, Indiana. I got back a long time before they did, so I decided to smoke some weed. I was upset at first at the inconvenience, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. I was very quiet though when he returned and he thought I was mad. Mostly, I was tired and stoned which tend to go hand-in-hand. He asked me if I was mad which I replied that I wasn’t and that I was very tired. We went to bed.

Yesterday, we spent the day at an outlet mall about an hour east of Bloomington. It was fun, we had a good time. We had agreed to meet some friends of mine for dinner only to discover that I had lost a bag of my purchases. I freaked. I was furious. I won’t sugarcoat it. I overreacted. I freaked out at Calvin, too. When he tried to comfort me and say “It’s okay” and give me a hug, I lashed out. I just wanted space. Now I can’t help but feel that was the final blow.

I called a few of the stores and one of them had it. I’m not sure if it was before or after I found out, but I apologized to Calvin. He said it was alright and I insisted that it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have reacted that way to him. I was really sorry. When he sort of accepted (I think) I made an off-handed comment about how everyone has their moments. I was recalling when he found out that he hadn’t passed his pre-recital hearing and lashed out at me in a similar way. I don’t think he took it the same way though.

And we’re back to this morning. He says, “I want you to know that I love you.” I go numb. He talks about how he hasn’t been feeling it since the fight at Christmas. I ask him if he’s breaking up with me. He doesn’t answer. He talks about how he feels pressured into getting married. I tell him that I’m not ready and definitely won’t be for a few years. He says it’ll be more like 4-5 years for him. I wonder aloud if he’ll actually be ready by then and what’ll happen if he’s not. I don’t remember what exactly happened after that, only that when I asked him if we were breaking up for the second or third time, he nodded yes.

I left the bedroom. I needed out. I pack my stuff. He’s waiting with a few of my other belongings with his shoes on. We go outside. We load my car. He comes and wants me to promise that we’ll still be friends. I promise. We hug. We kiss. We hug again. Then I get in my car. I wave goodbye. He turns and walks back to the door.

Out of the blue, I’m dumped. No room for discussion. I’m furious. I chewed him out a little already. Nothing terrible though. I could have been much worse.

My revenge will be much worse, though.

Of course, there’s the ceremonial hide-all-the-things-the-ex-boyfriend-gave-you-in-a-box-in-the-closet task. I ripped a few things in my rage, but only stuff that I know he has extra copies of if I ever really want them. They were also things that I knew of, but we were not dating when it happened (past recital fliers and such.) As soon as I’m done typing, that is my first task.

My revenge is moving on and being happy. His inability to effectively communicate in a mature fashion is what ultimately broke us up. Hell, his break up screams “inability to communicate”. He backed me into a corner and gave no room for discussion. When I wanted to break up with him, we sat down and discussed what the problem was and what we could do about it. He pulled me into his bedroom right before I was about to leave and told me all the things that were wrong from out of the blue and didn’t give us time to discuss it.

I know I will find someone. I will find someone who is a better communicator. There will be other people like Calvin, but I will find the one who can communicate. I will get through this. I am a good person. I have a good life. I’m ready for a new start.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve handled this very well. I was able to drive from Bloomington to Iowa City with only 2 times having brief suicidal thoughts. Those thoughts were only superficial, though, as I felt concern for my wellbeing. Thrice I’ve had thoughts of self harm, but again, nothing of real concern. I’ve come so far and know I have other better coping skills that actually make me feel better.

Our original protocol was for me to go straight to the hospital if anything were to happen between Calvin and me. I didn’t really think they would actually admit me though as my thoughts are not serious. When I finally contacted my therapist, she agreed and said it would probably only make things worse.

I don’t blame Calvin for breaking up with me. I blame him for the shitty ass way he did it. I’m frustrated that he didn’t want to exhaust our resources so we could say that we really tried before giving up. I’m sad that I wasn’t enough for him to try for. I’m hurt that he didn’t try to talk to me about this at all before doing it. I’m angry that he didn’t tell me at a better time and that he didn’t feel that he could talk to me about this in a more mature way. I’m tired of thinking about it, but it’s all I can think about.

Unless we had gone through with counseling, I don’t think we would have made it. If that was too much for him, he should have said so. Again, almost all of this goes back to communication. There was so much about him that I didn’t know. He would tell me some things, but leave me in the dark about so much. For someone who is brutally honest with everyone I love, it pains me that he didn’t feel like he could talk to me.

There’s a lot of good to see in this. I’m not attached to him in choosing my internship anymore. We won’t have to undergo some serious relationship reconstruction to help him to be more honest with me and for me to be less abrasive in my communication. There won’t be some huge struggle with him wanting to go back to Hong Kong and me not wanting to raise a family there. I won’t have to move time after time again for his career search. The cultural squabbles will end. I’m free to find someone more like me. To find someone who enjoys the same things I do (besides saxophone.) Someone who I’m not questioning if they hate that I smoke weed even though they say “it’s fine”. Someone who only makes promises they can keep.

And people wonder why I have trust issues.

All these little bombs he dropped and pretended there were no victims. He is a victim. I am a victim. His family members are victims. My family members are victims. Our friends are victims. Our teachers, mutual acquaintances, all victims to this disaster. I’m just mad that he gave up. He gave up and told me in the most cowardly way. For someone I have shown time and time again how unconditionally devoted to him I am, he repaid me in such a disgraceful way.

But it’s never really enough when it’s not the right person, is it?

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