Let it be.

The breakup is/was coming. I think I just did it myself. We’ll see if he calls to confirm. He’s already hinted at it. We hadn’t even really gotten started, but it still smarts. I admit, I pulled a preemptive strike and gave him an ‘out’ via email, before he makes the call that I know will make me snivel like a little girl.

And before you give me crap about doing it via email, he’s at work and said we’d talk when he got off, but I had stuff to say that couldn’t wait. So, sue me. You can’t say you wonder if you need to take a step back, followed with “we can talk about it after I get off work”, and expect me to sit around and wait. Wrong girl. Can’t want to.

I won’t go into detail, but there was a misunderstanding. Some innocuous thing that means nothing in the grand scheme of life, but it can derail potential very quickly. I’d rather avoid the awkwardness and just be done. Am I giving up too easily?

Maybe.

But the truth of the matter is that I’ve been just absolutely drawn and quartered emotionally so many times that I honestly prefer to just rip off the Band-Aid, tiny hairs and all. Life is too short to spend it wallowing in turmoil over what might happen or not happen.

I saw an internet meme not long ago that said “Dating after 30: We gonna do this or not? ‘Cause I got shit to do.” True dat. I like saying the phrase “I ain’t got time”. Honestly, I’m 41. I got all the time in the world, honey, because my expectations stopped being romance-novel-level years ago, and I have a “fake” job now that doesn’t require much actual work. Also, I currently have no vehicle, and since I live at my job, well, Netflix gets a lot of time from me. I got all kinds of time.

I still ain’t got time. No time for drawing things out. No time for dancing around words that hurt or heal. No time for playing games. No time for lies. No time for pretending to be or think or feel something other than the truth of who I am. I’ve been through far too much devastation to spend even one second pretending.

That tends to get me into trouble with other people’s feelings at times. My dad used to say “Tell the truth, but don’t always be tellin’ the truth”. He’s right about that. I’m still learning when to keep my mouth shut.

Anyhoo… My point is that I’m so direct and honest (sometimes brutally so) that I can appear callous. Only those who know me well can attest to the gooey, sensitive, girly, ridiculous softness that lies within. I think that’s why dating a new person usually ends pretty early. There’s no in-between – they either see the tough shield or the soft center, and both parts of me are so deeply, no-holds-barred real that it’s far too much for most folks to stomach for long.

And that’s okay. It hurts, but I get it.

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