Breaking up is hard to do

breakup.jpgThat whole, "It’s not you, it’s me?" thing? Complete bullshit. It is you.







I’ve been going through a long, drawn-out and emotionally draining breakup of late.

I haven’t seen D. all year—well, unless you count the PLAYBACK:stl anniversary show at The Pageant in April, where we spoke for maybe two minutes at the bar. But quality time? No way.

Mostly it’s her doing. She’s got a lot going on in her life; she’s had to reprioritize just about everything; she has to work whenever she can to pay the bills. I understand that.

And I’ve tried to be a good friend, and give her space, be there when she needs me (via text message, usually—not at all the best way to sustain a friendship, that’s for sure), not expect too much.

We’ve made plans a half dozen times this year, and every time (save one, in which I bailed for free baseball tickets…I know, lame, but I hadn’t yet been to the new stadium and, in actuality, I wasn’t feeling it that night) she’s canceled at the last minute. It’s always some excuse I can’t really argue with, but one that reinforces my low, low place on her totem pole of priorities and life.

I guess you could say she was my best girl friend. I don’t often have one of those; I mean, I have a husband, and he’s my best friend and everything else. Plus I’m pretty busy, too; not a lot of time for idle girl stuff, y’know?

But finally, I felt pushed beyond my limit. I quit returning her texts…until the barrage began. So I confessed: I can’t do this anymore. It’s too many broken promises, too much of a one-way street, too much of you never being there when I need you. Yes, I broke up with my friend. Via text message.

But then she came back with a vengeance. She tried—well, a little. By that, I mean I got an actual phone call instead of an abbreviated text message, and then we scheduled a night out.

The afternoon of our scheduled night out, she canceled…via text message.

I felt so raw and hurt and drained by the whole thing.

Never in my whole life have I had such a breakup experience with a friend. Usually, the relationship just sort of fizzles out. It’s mutual, no hard feelings, but we’ve both got other things going on in our lives.

This is actually the first time I’ve thought long and hard and decided opting out of a friendship was the best thing I could do for myself. I need to stop making myself vulnerable. Need to stop putting my feelings out there to be crushed time and time again.

So, just in time for the holidays, I am spreading good will and cheer to myself. Goodbye, D. It’s just not working anymore. And that whole, "It’s not you, it’s me?" thing? Complete bullshit. It is you. You can’t give me what I need, period. Maybe your life will change one day and you’ll be that friend I knew and loved (and clung to—oh, how I clung to that belief in you, that memory of who you were and could be!) and we will reconnect. I won’t forget you.

But it’s time for me to move on.

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