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Dear Breakup Girl,

I am in a pit of despair and just knowing that this guy is part of the reason takes me closer to the bottom...

I met D. back in November, and we really hit it off, and by the fourth time we'd gotten together, he said, I'm just wondering if it's safe to fall. Which was very touching and all, but I was nervous because he was finishing up the pre-divorce separation period. (He's just a few years older--33 vs. my 29--so there's no age thing going on.) He assured me that he was fine and ready and all of that stuff. So we plunge into this relationship, with me periodically asking if he's going to freak out once his divorce is finalized, and him telling me that it's not going to be a big deal, no more than registering his car, so I start to feel guilty for being so suspicious and decide to relax.

Pretty early on, he's talking about the two of us growing old together on matching rocking chairs on his front porch, and about future marriage, and he asks me to move in with him. I question him as to whether it's me he wants, or just the idea of someone. See end of paragraph above.

He takes me to his Unitarian church, his work Christmas party, and to meet his mom, who lives a couple hours out of town. I take him to a party for my school, and to NYC to meet all of my friends. (Because I moved South to get my PhD, and as grad school is an isolating type of thing, I don't really have friends down here.) They all note that I'm very happy, and they like him, and he's happy, and he stares at me with cow eyes all of the time and tells me how happy he is to be with me, and how I look good in his house, etc., etc.

So, one week prior to the divorce finalization, he tells me how safe I make him feel, and more cow eyes, and we're going into the mall and he's actually bouncing next to me saying, Look, everyone, this is my girlfriend! He wants to know what I want to do for my spring break, if I want to go somewhere. Happy happy joy joy, nothing out of the ordinary.

So, prior to D-Day, his shrink takes him off of his antidepressants and puts him on Ritalin, instead. By D-Day, this has begun to really mess with him and he's crashing. But the day before D-Day, he sends me a perfectly nice note connoting future activities for us to do together, etc. We're supposed to get together the night of D-Day, but he doesn't call and then when he does, he says he's feeling crappy from no drugs and is just going to stay home. This is a Friday. We have plans to get together Sunday, which we do, and go out to a movie and dinner, and I just know something's wrong so I start crying, and he tells me he's no longer in love with me, *but he still wants to date me*, just not be physical, because he's one of those people who believes in telling the truth no matter what. He doesn't believe in dating unless it's leading to marriage, and as of that weekend, he can't see that future for us any more. I'm crying, then I try to get him to change his mind, which is very embarrassing, since my principle is that if someone doesn't want you, just walk away.

I'm angry for the next week, then I call him and it's clear to me that none of this means anything to him, that he's only sorry for hurting me because it ruins his image of himself as a good person, but not because he hurt *me*. I find this rather inhuman, after all of the stuff he told about our future, how happy I made him, etc. I go to his house and take all of my stuff back while he's gone, with a friend to point out why I don't want to spend my life with this guy. Like his bad taste, and his really unclean house with the fruit fly farm...and his Pillsbury doughboy stomach and balding head and really bad sex. I talk to D. the next day, he says we have nothing in common and I don't fit his picture of the perfect relationship, and admits that we were happy together and had good times and loved each other and had chemistry, but since that doesn't fit his picture...none of it matters.

I spend the beginning of week two in Acceptance, but then I start to be so lonely and miss him so much and I'm absolutely miserable and depressed now. And it's not like I' completely alone--I'm dating another guy with whom I have lots of fun and great sex but no emotional commitment. (they both knew about each other.) but D. was my friend as well as my love, and it was all so sudden and his lack of feeling makes me feel so used and stupid and worthless and wretched. and for some reason, here I am halfway through week three, and I'm just in terrible pain and I can't understand why. Normally I'm good at walking away from stuff. Normally I'm the one who leaves, and if the other person leaves, they soon want me back. I even considered going to his house (a forty-minute drive) some night and throwing myself at him, which is pathetic. I don't actually think our relationship would've lasted forever, because we had some serious ideological differences, so why can't I get over this? I know I'm better off without him. I can't eat, I sleep too much, I can't concentrate on anything, and I'm filled with self-loathing for trusting and believing him and for having such a hard time letting go. I just can't seem to accept this sudden not loving/caring about me thing. Why can't I get over this?

-- Pathetic Portia

Dear Portia,

Of course you're normally good at walking away from stuff. Normally, it's your idea.

And normally, I'm guessing, people don't seem to turn on people like this. I mean, whoa. Of course you're stunned. I'm curious about what the drug switch might have had to do with his freaky about-face, but our resident professional Belleruth is on vaca, too. Look into that for yourself only if you think it would be useful. That is, you are not allowed to think thoughts like "if only he were back on anti-depressants he would love me." Anyway, there's plenty else here that doesn't glowingly recommend him (car registration? drosophila?), pre-Ritalin. At the end of the day, it's a moot point.

But back to the main point. Normally, you're cautious. Normally, you're in control. This whole venture -- before, during, after -- has not been normal for you. Which is fine. It's just that you don't think so. Why you're driving yourself nuts is that you feel like you messed up, missed signs. But Portia, what else would you have done? If you hadn't gone ahead and dated him, you would have written to ask me "What if?" Plus, three weeks isn't all that long. Give your eyes time to dry, and then practice the "cow" kind for next time.

Love,
Breakup Girl

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