“I just don’t know,” he said. She felt sick. How many times had they had this conversation?
They sat at the top of Dolores Park on a sunny afternoon. They had come to relax but the mood was heavy. “I wish I did but I’m just not sure if this is right. I can tell you’re the best woman I have ever met but I don’t know if this relationship is right for me.
She felt a combination of fury and panic rise up in her. The panic won. She felt that she was being left, that she was not good enough, that this man who she loved so much was not as captivated by her as she by him. She looked at the gorgeous San Francisco skyline, thinking that she didn’t know if she had it in her, to have this conversation again. To try to convince him again. To then move on like all was fine.
They packed up their blankets and walked to the car. She got behind the wheel but did not start the Honda. He looked at her with sadness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could be different for you. I love you so much, we’ll work this out. I just wish I was sure about where this is going.”
“You know what? That’s OK, because I am sure,” she said. “This is over. I do know I and I know that I don’t want more of this.” She turned on the car while he sat in silence, stunned. They drove back to her apartment, where they sat on the sofa. Oddly, since she’d made her unexpected choice in the car, she felt a little more peaceful. Still, goodbyes were not easy.
They sat on the sofa; she told him again it was over. He seemed reluctant. They hugged and then she asked him to leave.
In the days and weeks that followed she felt miserable. She’d loved his spirit, his out of the box way of thinking and living. She had not loved that he criticized her for eating the whole carton of yogurt in the morning, “Do you really need all of that?” she can recall him saying. She did not love that he regularly did recreational drugs or that he hung out with a crowd that spent entire evenings high, pontificating on the benefits of Polygamy. Seriously? But still, this breakup stung. Except in one way. In one way it was different than the string of breakups she’d had in her young life. With this one, she’d made the choice for herself. She’d decided to want more and better rather than dwell on the wounded feelings of not being worthy. She rejected that reality and created her own the moment she told him it was over. It felt good. She felt powerful for the first time in her romantic life.
She came out of her funk a few weeks after that fateful night at Dolores Park. She realized that she’d re-written some of the shitty stories she had in her mind about herself and whom she wanted. That moment of taking control, of making a choice for her, and of losing that loser had changed her. She did not look back.