Day 1 of Heartbreak
Maybe this is day 2 because yesterday we decided to call it quits for possibly good this time. Most times it’s obvious within an hour it’s not permanent and sometimes we would let it drag on so the other could passionately pine for the other’s love again. This time was different though. I had started the conversation earlier, we then were fine, but then a guilt had crept in that put me in the wrong. A real wrong. A wrong I had ignored for months, years even. A wrong that I didn’t understand when my partner swore up and down I was the representative of hypocrisy and blame. Now it was staring at me down the barrel and it was the last straw. My earlier passionate squabble had turned into an accepted proposition. We were done. To be separated immediately, although I know he would hate hearing me say that because we were never married. Never even engaged.
Eddie and I had a lot of disagreements. I think I read somewhere to remember the bad stuff so you don’t glorify what you had when it’s gone. Truthfully, I would take him back and leave every other judgement at the door. I always feel I know better now, can do better by him. When it’s my fault that is. When it’s his fault, I always felt I deserved better and should find better.
But I cared for him in a way I’ve never cared for anyone before. Ugh. I need to take a moment.
I came to Paris at the beginning of the month to seek out an adventure, a different atmosphere, a better quality of living. We had been in a worldwide pandemic involving quarantines, sheltering in place, travel bans, and overall social bans. It was absolute hell on everybody, I won’t bore you with the sci-fi details or the political hodgepodge, you can watch a movie for that.
So I came to Paris to finally pick up my life again as my twenties were quickly drifting, and I needed some time away from Eddie. We had been together almost everyday for two years. He helped me move apartments nearly four times, moved to a city neither of us liked to follow me, stayed with me when I was acting poorly within our relationship. However for the last year, it was mostly him who was acting poorly. Not at a fault of his own, but he suffered from a severe form of anxiety and depression. He had the highest standards he wanted to live up to, among them was becoming a billionaire for his family first, then for altruism towards the rest of the world. Grandiose dreams but I really believed he could do it. He was brilliant, cunning, very egotistical but in a way that drove people from all parts of the world to listen to the young prodigy speak. He was like a combination of Bezos with Musk with Ghandi. I know, quite a character, I used to laugh at him the first year we dated because I thought the way he viewed the world was so bizarre.
8:15 AM and no text yet. Truthfully, I am using this journal so I do not go crazy. I may already be a bit crazy but I am finding it impossible to focus on anything else. My apartment here in Paris, a beautiful 4th floor walk-up built in the 1800s, in the quiet area of the Marais neighborhood, was acrimonious. I shifted aside day-old plates to find a room for my computer to write, filled a half-drank coffee cup with yesterday’s brew, and only brushed my teeth because the smell was starting to bother me. At twenty-four years old I’m not very good at taking care of myself. Before Eddie, years before, I was good but hyper focused on academia that I lacked a personality when I left high school. In college I went a bit crazy, still achieving high marks, but would dance on table tops and purge every morning to keep my body in a constant hamster wheel of substance abuse. This lasted until my third and fourth year. I fell into a state of depression, hardly left my apartment, looked for excuses not to go to class, developed a social anxiety, and it was hard for me to find a reason to sleep on sheets instead of my bare mattress. There was no point.
So here I am, trying to develop a better personality in Paris I guess. The beginning of my trip was good, dampered by a quick bout of homelessness. No that was dramatic, poor living conditions rather. I rented from an online site that showed a beautiful modern studio in Sentier, the center of the ville, with lots of features. When I arrived the lightless staircase was so small and sunken that my suitcase couldn’t fit through the narrow frame and I thought we would collapse at any moment into the dark abyss. The walls above the kitchen had mold growing through the cracks, the linens had a darker person’s long hairs left behind and suspicious brown marks on them. I walked around in a pair of socks and had my shoulders up to my ears.
8:25 AM and I received a text. “So.” “Hmm.”
I imagine him walking into my apartment, which would be sparkling and have fresh flowers, food on the stove for his arrival. A romantic embrace, our bodies coiling immediately and falling onto a bed with clean linens. Returning to reality, there are only bread crumbs in the kitchen from a baguette I finished days ago, empty bottles of wine, a ransacked armoire spewing dirty clothes and wet molding clothes in the washer from yesterday. Maybe I’ll run those through once more. Yeah, that’s good. Then I did something today.
My stomach is in twists as it shouts, “Take me back! Take me back!” I can’t bear to try to understand the world without his extreme theories and connectivity of situations, events, people, me. But some of his last words still ring true.
“I want to marry you.” I said.
“I don’t want marriage. I want freedom. So do your thing.” Eddie stated.
I guess that’s that then. All of the talks we had for weeks before, supposedly a freak out on his part because he really saw us getting married, was true. He didn’t want marriage, he wanted freedom from me. Now he had a reason to leave and all of his doubts and little voice joined forces marching along a little version of my head through the town. This was the end of me for him, no going back. He needed a stronger woman, less desperate for love. Someone more like him who would argue less.
Right. Okay. So there’s nothing for me to say to him. I shouldn’t beg to have him back if it’s better he’s not with me. He can find another woman who will take care of him in his times of depression, who will motivate him to do more and be more because she is already such a boss and also brings droves of people from all over the world to fill arenas just to hear her speak. She probably has the funds to match his or even outmatch his so he doesn’t have to worry about paying for her half of the rent if they moved in together.
Yeah, he probably needs that. And what about me? I guess I need to not be so desperate for love. That’s what got me into this whole mess. Yes, my very big wrong, a moment of confusion and search for love when it had been lost on Eddie and I. It also got me into the mess of Eddie. I accepted him, became addicted to his love, and then became so offended when we didn’t think the same, talk the same, when he would stare at another woman for just a second. When he would call me a slut, a whore, a selfish person, a hypocrite, the worst decision of his life, holding him back, not what he needs, not what he wants, I’d take those as facts then I would take him back. I truly was desperate for love like he said. I loved him. I buried myself so I could let him stand on me, and he did the same for a period of time. To him, it was all the time. This wasn’t supposed to be love, right? It was confusing this would happen to two very bright people who talk so much and so often to each other. I think we talked too much if I’m being frank.
I let him go. Told him “Yeah. It’s okay we don’t have to talk. Have a good day.” Ah. It felt mature, yes, but also 30% of me felt maybe it would make him want me back. Maybe he would miss me from that. Miss our talks. I hope he doesn’t think I’m accepting this lightly. Maybe I should say something else? No. Forget about it. For once, I need to stop fighting to be with him and just accept what happens. I love him. Maybe a month apart will solidify we aren’t together or compatible. Maybe the month apart will make us realize we can’t breathe without the other.
Here are some vows I will make for this time separated:
- I will not talk to, flirt with, message, date, kiss, or touch any other person.
- I will not revert to old ways. I will accept I am a hypocrite and desperate for love and search for it within myself.
- I will focus on my business to grow in wealth and take care of myself, or at the very least, be able to pay for someone to take care of me.
- I will not blame him. I will not speak poorly of him. I will not tell people.
- I will become okay with the things I am not okay with. Like walking alone, eating alone, cooking for others, traveling alone.
Two days ago I met a woman at a picnic in Les Tuileries. We had a mutual acquaintance whose birthday was being celebrated. She caught my eye instantly. She had a cool look to her, wearing colored lenses with no prescription, big hoop earrings, and was bobbing blissfully to the music by herself. We would make eye contact and smile sometimes, she asked some questions directed towards me and it made me nervous. She spoke French but her English rivaled some of my American friends’.
Eddie wanted threesomes, and it was a popular topic of discussion that week. I thought she was pretty and maybe I would date her but, her presence was nerve wracking to me and I thought she was cool more than sexually attractive. As the group dwindled down with the sun, we started talking intimately about life, adventures, love. She had backpacked alone, hitchhiked with elderly men, never carried a weapon or fear. She was a year younger than me but had really lived. She left her six year relationship to fulfill her desires, but discovered she too craved a deeper connection. We talked about Eddie and his obsession with sex with other people suddenly, two years into our relationship (although he had brought it up previously just never as intensely).
I will never forget how she looked at me, concerned for me, hesitating… “so what will you do?”
I looked up at her and couldn’t begin to find any words in my own language. “I… I really don’t know.”
“Yeah, I don’t either.” She said.
This girl inspired me with her naivete about the world and her ability to travel without fear alone.
Change of plans. We have gotten back together and now I will plan surprises and cute dates and sexy events for us. This is now the couple’s vacation journal.