It’s been more than 2 weeks since my boyfriend and I broke up. We were together for nearly 8 years. Last Saturday actually would have been our 8th year together had we not broken up a couple of weeks before that… Had HE not broken up with me.
It’s weird how very few people in my life actually knew about this, but with our situation being what and how it was, there really wasn’t much we could do about it.
Okay, for the record, he wasn’t the only guy I was with for the last 8 years. I mean, I’ve dated other guys in between ‘lulls’ in the relationship, if you know what I mean.
We’ve broken up a number of times in the past, but never really stayed apart for long. We’d always end up getting back together.
I remember the first time he tried to break it off–we were just going out for a couple of months; he was involved with committed to someone else, and he wanted to step on the brakes before anybody got hurt. It was horrible. He just decided to cut off all communication lines without warning. Being the naïve teenager that I was then, I didn’t know what hit me. I kept calling, texting and e-mailing him, only to get ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Not a squeak, man.
I was never one to give up right away, so I cornered him one day and just told him he couldn’t get rid of me that easily. I begged him while bawling my eyes out; I fought for our relationship while literally kicking and screaming. I fondly call it my ‘lupasay’ ala Lotie moment (as in Lotie the annoying little crybaby on Princess Sarah the cartoon).
He ended up giving in, and in a way, he ended up being in control of our relationship from that point forward. He laid the ground rules, so to speak; and I was happy to say yes to everything because at the time, all I knew was I wanted him no matter what. Why do we always want what we can’t have? Agh.
TO BE CONTINUED…