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Dear Breakup Girl,

I have done a Very Bad Thing (which, luckily, bears no relationship to the really awful movie of the approximately same name).

You might remember my earlier self-inflicted predicament -- I was afraid that my wonderful boyfriend, like several other boyfriends and my former husband, might end up preferring one of my friends to me. Before your very sensible response was even printed, I'd done the unthinkable: I broke up with my boyfriend, taking our occasional problems -- mostly run-of-the-mill communication issues, sexual timing snafus, different travel preferences, and the like -- and blowing them out of proportion. In essence, I manufactured reasons why I couldn't see this relationship continuing to marriage, house, kids, old age, and all that stuff we wanted to share.

He, being made of more stoic stuff than I, sucked in all his pain and didn't talk about it. I cried as though my heart were being shredded. I felt as though I didn't want to do this, but now it was done. We retreated to our separate corners of the apartment and began to live together as friends instead of as lovers. For the first month, I could hardly be in the same room without bursting into tears, so I spent my time buried in work or with friends. He put his head down and worked, finishing his first book. He told me that he had planned to dedicate the book to me, which made me cry.

The stupidest thing of all is that, soon after I broke up with Mr. Wonderful, I started dating Mr. Someone Else, a friend of mine for some years and an interesting person, but not the Love of My Life. We had some laughs and some good times, but I couldn't get Mr. Wonderful out of my head. I've ended things with this friend, apologizing that I jumped too soon into seeing him after my breakup.

Meanwhile, at home, I'd gotten on a more even keel and could hang out with Mr. Wonderful again, watch movies, eat pizza, and talk. I tried to explain what a horrible mistake I'd made, but he replied that he'd thought about my reasons for breaking up with him and decided that they were valid, after all. He admitted that he's not over me, that it still hurts, and that he still loves me, but added that if we got back together, we'd still have those same problems. A couple of weeks later, I felt like I had a breakdown. I started crying uncontrollably and felt horribly depressed over what I'd done to both men. Mr. Wonderful kept after me to find out what was wrong, and we talked some more about us and about what a mistake I made in ending things. While I was sobbing, he wrapped me up in a blanket, brought me aspirin and water, and cared for me as he's always done. What we had was special, and we both agree that we loved each other more than we had anyone else. However, he said that he sees our problems as fixed in time and space and being beyond our control, while I see them as workable and a matter of choosing to communicate differently.

We left off our conversation with the promise to do some thinking about what each of us is willing to do for something that was more special than anything else has ever been and whether that's worth trying to have again. I then went away for the weekend to get some distance and think more clearly. I've concluded that I never fully committed to the relationship because I was afraid that it would evaporate, and that any couple will have problems, but that our problems could have been so much worse. I realized that, in trying to protect myself from possible pain, I threw away something dear to me. I've learned a lot from the past few months, and I wish that I had a Wayback Machine to let me go back to do things differently, or that there was some way he could forgive me and we could renew our relationship and start again. I love him, and I wish there were something more that I could do, but maybe I've done too much already.

I returned from my weekend away, and Mr. Wonderful was glad to see me, as always. We talked about light stuff, ate dinner together, and watched TV together, but we haven't talked about what we said before I left. He's a quiet, introverted type who hasn't ever begun a Relationship Conversation with me, so I'm pretty sure that it's up to me to get the ball rolling. Problem is, I can neither decide how to tell him about my conclusions nor figure out how to buck up and deal with the entirely probable outcome that he'll say that he's thought about us and decided that it's not worth the heartbreak. Thanks for being there, BG.

--Gigi

Hi again Gigi --

Hmm. Can't decide how to tell him your conclusions? Well, you're off to a pretty good start. Yes, it does sound like you'll have to initiate, but you guys have (a) the intention of re-Relationship Conversationing to begin with, and (b) a baseline level of comfort going into it that should help cushion the weirdness. A little, anyway.

As far as specific talking points go, your thesis statement ("I've concluded ... I love him") is already quite strong (change the third person to second, and you're cooking with gas). Beyond that, it's important to tell him not that things will be different, but rather -- as far as you can imagine -- how things will be different ... and (bonus) how you figure. (More on that here.)

Or heck, Gigi, maybe things don't really have to be that different, and that's what you say. Maybe -- you might suggest -- those "problems" are all Very Human Things. And that, while a little WD40 never hurts, it's not like either of you will ever find a Relationship Machine without a couple of creaky cogs. Maybe the thing to do is not insist on how things will be "better," but rather reinspire him about what has always been great. Make a list, dedicate it to him.

Of course, the real "reason" you "didn't know how" to tell him about your conclusions is that -- to address your second question -- is probably / simply that you're scared he'll say no go. Weeeeell, he miiiiight. Now, anyway. Seems to me that if there's anything you two have in common, it's the urge to "protect" yourselves from heartbreak -- in the Very Nutty Way that humans do -- by breaking up with each other or staying apart. (Even though "it might end, in theory" is a bad reason not to get into a relationship.)

If he holds fast, how will you buck up? Well, aside from the usual stuff, you have also got to be a Letting Myself Off the Hook Machine. First, file Mr. Someone Else under Very Understandable Rebound. Wasn't ideal, but (a) your status can't have been unobvious to him, and (b) what are you gonna do? Now, about your "manufactured" "reasons." Maybe fabricated/inflated, maybe not. Maybe they were Very Tangible Things your mind lit upon in order to "explain" something fuzzier, more gut level. Maybe. I'm just saying. Because in theory, there's no reason why you should trust your "reasons" less than your "conclusions." They're all you.

Finally, well, I don't want to dangle false hope here. But he does sound like a boy who whirrs at his own speed, who needs his "process" time (in a Very Quiet Place). Even if your dramatic speech doesn't lead immediately to the ending you want, I don't know, I'm not convinced there won't be a Very Good Sequel.

Love,
Breakup Girl

 
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