break-up story #1

By Katherine Craft

I was in a very heart wrenching, crying all night all the time kind of relationship, and I knew that I only had a small window of opportunity to get out of it before my will left me completely. I launched the first assault as we sat on my balcony for that evening’s poetry reading session. These sessions consisted of him reading poems from his favorite poet in his favorite poet’s exact voice while I lapsed into what he must have thought was adoring silence. He probably didn’t notice at all, except to get angry when I tried to gently suggest that perhaps I would like to read a poem. My poets weren’t as good, my reading was terrible and the whole thing usually devolved into a screaming argument.

That night, however, he hurled my favorite stuffed animal to the floor in a fit of childish rage and although I had not been able to look out for my own happiness, self-interest or needs for the past two years, the sight of my favorite childhood friend crumpled on the floor finally snapped something loose inside me. “Hell naw,” I thought, “that is so not on.” So I told him we were over but like most things I said, he brushed this away as something stupid. I said it again. And again and again and again and again until he kind of believed me. He burst into wails, the kind a two year emits at the store, the kind of blubbering, hyperventilating squalls that make you want to kill whatever is making that godawful sound. This did not elicit any sympathy from me but after two hours of it (in which he did not pass out, as I was hoping), I relented for the evening. My ears were too sore and he would. not. leave.

The next night (no poetry this final night), I lauched a clever counteroffensive. I don’t remember the exact words, but I’ll reconstruct the conversation for the readers’ benefit.

Me: We can’t be together.

Him: (Indrawn breath, the beginning of tears on his part.) Why not?

Me: I’m gay. Sorry.

Him: (Immediate subsiding of tears.) Really?

Me: Yeah.

Him: That’s kind of what I thought.

Me: Huh? I mean – yeah. Gay.

Him: I’m so glad that you’ve figure that out about yourself. It must have been so hard for you. I’m honored to be the first person you told.

Me: Um… good.

Him: But if you ever, you know, if you ever go back to men again – I’ll still be here.

Me: Right. Definitely.

Him: We can give it another shot.

Me: Yep. Okay.

He was full of warmth and understanding after that. So much so that I wondered if maybe I was gay. I had to believe it pretty hard for him to buy it. I half heartedly posted a woman-seeking-woman personal ad in the week that followed and wondered what in the hell was going on. The facade broke as soon as I told my best friend about, who laughed and laughed. Once my ex was firmly out of my life, I told him that I was not actually gay. I ran away before he could cry again.

About this entry

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Published:
08.18.09 / 1pm
Category:
break up stories