"Please, let me back in, Sonja. Please. I love you so much I ache. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think about anything but you. I feel as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest and all that's left is this empty, lonely ache. We have something so special. You can't deny it. We are so good together. If you love me at all, even one half of a drop, you'll give us another try. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and the kids, please?" pleaded Jay over the phone. His voice was quivering and I knew he was trying hard not to cry.
My hands shook as I held the receiver to my ear. All I've ever wanted is to be loved all the way, to be part of a real team and to belong with and to someone special. And now this incredible man is offering the key to unlocking my dreams and I'm not interested. It's too little too late. Too much has been said that can't be taken back, too much damage has been done to the relationship to be overlooked. When we agreed to disagree and parted company, I put up a wall and for me there's just no going back. But it's killing me.
Being broken up with is a miserable place to be, especially when you believed that the person you are in love with was "the one." You're left feeling abandoned, heartbroken and alone. You tell yourself that you've never felt that way before and you will never, ever feel that way again. It's absolutely one of the most devastating places to be in. I know from experience.
But, come to find out, being the person who walks away isn't any easier. Not if you were truly in love. It's not easy to know that you are hurting someone you once cared so much for, no matter how incompatible you've become. You want to hold them and console them and promise them that everything will be all right. "There, there little baby, you'll see, soon you'll find someone else to love and you'll be happy again, I promise."
But you can't because any caring or consoling you offer is like a life preserver to a drowning person. They cling to it for dear life, misconstruing what you're trying to communicate for a glimmer of hope. If you're compassionate for their wounded soul, they somehow feel certain that a reconciliation is imminent. What choice do they leave you?
"You need to be a complete bitch," said my girlfriend Barb, over lunch. "It's the only way he's going to get it. Explain to him that he is past his freshness date and the only thing left is the rotten stench of a bad relationship gone sour."
Barb is a bitch and she's proud of it, so much so that she has earned the nickname of Bitter Bitch Face. In all the years we've known each other, I've never known her to be in a relationship, but she doles out advice like a trained professional—none of it ever positive or uplifting.
"Tell him you're sleeping with his best friend and he's rockin' your world. Tell him he was such a loser that you've decided to give lesbianism a try. Tell him ..."
"Barb," I cut her off, "I can't do that. I have already hurt him enough. I refuse to be heartless and say cruel things to him. He doesn't deserve that. Maybe if I can just be his friend and listen to his pain for a while ..."
"Screw that"—this time she cut me off. "When he had you, he didn't know what to do with you. He decided that you weren't enough. He wanted you to move away from your home, your life, your own kids for hell's sake to go shack up with him on the beach. He wanted you to give up your career to get knocked up because at 45 he decided that he had to have children of his own. 'Oh, and by the way, while you're turning your entire world upside down to make my life easier and more complete, would you mind trading in your entire identity to be the woman I'm more comfortable with you being?' Hello? What part of—this guy didn't want anything from you but everything you have to give and he wasn't willing to sacrifice—are you not getting?"
She had a point.
"I've told him that it's over. I have explained in vain that there are too many differences between us to overcome. He just refuses to believe me," I said, exasperated.
"Then show him," said Barb. "People may not believe what you say, but they will always believe what you do. When he calls, don't call him back. When he sends flowers and gifts, send them back. Yes, it will be hard, but in the long run, you're not doing anyone any favors by offering false hope."
I'll be damned. Bitter Bitch Face was right. "How'd you get so smart?" I asked her.
"Because once upon a time I was just like Jay. I loved someone with every ounce of my being. But he left me anyway. And every time I'd start to heal, he'd call and tell me that he couldn't get me out of his head and that he still loved me. It's been seven years, and I'm still waiting and hoping and praying. Don't do that to him, Sonja. Don't let him waste his love and his precious time on someone who is never coming back."
I made a vow to follow her advice. I'd resort to tough love because it was the only way to cut the ties that still bound Jay and I together, and he deserved much more than to hold onto something that was no longer there. I also made another vow: I'd never refer to my friend, the hopeless romantic, as Bitter Bitch Face again.
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?