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Dear Breakup Girl,

I have created a big fat mess.

Over a year ago, for about three months, I dated The One who got away. It was great: the physical part was great, but for me, the crux was that we had so much in common on an intellectual-sense-of-humor-shared-values level. The rub was that he wasn't particularly open about his feelings. After three months, I finally decided to ask him about his feelings. He said, "I don't know," and then a day later he said, "I'm not falling in love with you." Ow, ow, ow. But I knew what to do. I grit my teeth, cut off all contact, and tried to make my friends laugh by writing breakup haikus so that my pain wouldn't try their patience. The haikus were funny. My friends were great. The pain was intense, but it subsided.

Kind of.

I had a passionate fling in another country, came back, and thought about The One. I moved to another city, got a new job, went on a lot of dates, and thought about The One. I dated a sexy rebound, briefly, and thought about The One.

Now I'm dating my lovely boyfriend. He's everything I want ... almost. He's smart and caring; he's even tall and cute. Objectively speaking, he's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. Most of the time, he makes me all mushy inside. We've only been dating a few months, but there is only one other person who's ever had the power to melt away my worst bad moods by putting his hand on the back of my neck and telling me it's good to see me, and that's The One.

The problem is, um, that I kissed The One this weekend.

I thought I was all better. I thought I could see The One and knock him off his pedestal, that if I saw him in the light of this new romance, he would seem flawed and normal and that I would be able to be friends with him. I could get book recommendations from The One, and continue dating my boyfriend.

I was wrong. When I saw him, all the old feelings resurfaced. We had coffee on a Saturday. He asked to see me again the next day. I agreed, because I decided that I had to come clean, once and for all. I wanted to tell him how I felt, so that he could, once and for all, crush all hope. See, I never really believed that our breakup happened because of a lack of feeling. I always thought it was because he has commitment issues. The problem is, I was right. Instead of saying, "I'm sorry you still harbor those feelings; I just want to be friends," he said that he "wanted to try again" but was afraid of "inflicting himself on me." He thinks he doesn't know how to fall in love, with me or with anyone. This is because he believes, really and truly, that he will be hit by lightning bolts. I'm the only meaningful relationship he's ever had. He says I'm everything he wants. He knows that he has commitment issues; he knows that what we have is unique and special; he even knows that he's really immature. But all he can say is, "I need time to figure this out," and "Can I come visit you for the day in a few weeks?" and, "Oh, boy." He said that after we kissed. I don't know what it meant.

The One told me all this the last time around: that he had trouble opening up, that he felt hemmed in by the idea of commitment, that he's afraid of hurting my feelings. My friends are giving me books like "Men Who Can't Love" and "He's Scared/She's Scared." My friend and the books are basically telling me to ditch The One if at all possible, to protect myself if not, and that if I go for this again, that I have to be ready for a really rocky ride. It's all making me crazy. I don't even know when I'll hear from The One again, but right now, I feel like I would be insane to sign up for this heartache — even if in a week The One comes back and says, "I thought about it, I want to get over my fear, and I really do want to try again."

My lovely boyfriend, on the other hand, is a commitment junkie. I told him that I had seen The One and been upset by it. He was sweet and understanding. That's all I said. I figure that until I figure my crap out, that's all he needs to know.

My boyfriend is really a great person. He's intelligent and affectionate and kind. However, while he likes novels in theory, Business Week always takes precedence. I tend to have a violent distaste for corporate America, and he's part of it. He knows all my liberal views, understands and respects them, and agrees with some of them, but also likes to tease me by doing things like making kind of sexist or conservative statements and then saying, "I'm joking!"

You pointed out to me once before that a choice between a fantasy and a reality is not really a choice. My boyfriend is in the scary here and now, frighteningly willing to put time and patience and emotional effort into me. The One was safely out in the land of Lost Love, nostalgia, and "what if," immune to everyday flaws. Until now. Now I don't know where he is. I recognize that I may just be acting out my own commitment issues. Maybe I freaked out because of the fact that I was very happy to spend most nights at my boyfriend's place before this happened. Maybe I'm scared about going in for another round of heartbreak, and I'm hoping to second guess my new relationship and get out before I get hurt.

But maybe it's more than that, BG, maybe there really are people with whom you have such a special connection that it's worth a lot of emotional bullshit. Does The One ever exist? Or are both he and I acting out our immature issues by creating an unattainable vision of perfection? Are there people whose stupid jokes and favorite movies and shared values and eccentricities are so in line with yours — people whose very texture of conversation works so well with yours — that they can change you forever and render even the loveliest of boyfriends inadequate? I've tried to get my boyfriend to start reading something besides Business Week, and that ain't happening. But how can I end something that's working because of something as silly as reading materials?

I know that emotional availability is not icing on the relationship cake, it's a basic ingredient. So, it seems that I would be a big, fat idiot if I gave up something that's right on many levels based on, "I want to try again, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to fall in love again. I'm waiting for lightning bolts." I should probably tell The One to sod off, and then focus on whether this thing with my boyfriend is right, independent of The One's existence. But part of me also thinks that I would be a big, fat idiot to give up a chance at something as special as what I've got with The One. Or maybe I should just move to a different country? Please help.

—Akemi

Dear Akemi,

At this point, do you really think you'll be able to forget The One, snap, just like that?

Look, you're reasonable enough to know that those "lightning bolts" may not ever even strike in one place, that there are other ways that love — true love, even — gets conducted and grounded.

But you should also know that in a relationship, Magic and Work are not mutually exclusive. Au contraire. If you want this The One, yeah, you — both — might have to work for it. Which doesn't mean it's not the magic you describe in that lovely paragraph about "stupid jokes and favorite movies." You're onto this notion when you mention that "special connection/emotional BS" balance, but I just wanted to go back and highlight for you.

'Cause remember this IMPORTANT BREAKUP GIRL MAXIM: Reunions are not just "Please be kind, rewind." If you and The One can indeed (as he seems willing to do) talk rationally and plausibly on the topic of "No, really. How would things actually be different in a do-over, day to day? What will actually change? Where will the work go?" then you'll at least get a glimpse-enough-to-go-on of how things could look not on Cloud Nostalgia, but in flaws-and-all real life.

And about your current relationship. "All mooshy" is good. But being irked by his reading list isn't Bad. Look, your gut does what it does all by itself, leaving your brain to figure out why, to search for tangible "proof." Gut says: "We're different." Brain says: "But why? Hmm. Check nightstand." See? Of course BW on its own should not break a deal, Akemi, but — since you've got a decision to make — nor should you dismiss any "evidence" that might be useful.

With those observations in mind, do your best to reshuffle your feelings. The path to The One isn't wholly clear, I know, but I also wouldn't want you to stay shut "safely" in a stifling car or away from a deep, swirling pool; lightning, in some form, could still strike a second time. Or heck, it could miss. But let's say you do go back to the one, and even if the work doesn't work — Ow, I know. But you'll at least be able do away with the part that said "…Who Got Away."

Love,
Breakup Girl

 
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