Single Again

Out of respect for the other human involved, I have decided not to post any of our couple pictures. Instead have this stock photo of an emoji

The thing about a whirlwind romance is that it's nice in theory. In reality it moves way too fast and leaves pain and heartbreak in its wake.

Look, I'm almost thirty. One issue with being a lesbian in a heteronormative world is that it's very common for us to start way too late. Things that straight people get in their teens, we don't experience until our twenties, because our teen years are spent dealing with figuring out we're different and then struggling to learn not to hate ourselves when all our classmates use "that's gay" derogatorily so that we feel like we must be as awful and trashy as whatever they deem "gay".

At least, that's how my teen years were spent.

But I digress. The point of this post is to announce... I am single again. My relationship with the incredible person I met in August did not work out. And, hard as it may be to believe, I am the one that ended it, even though I didn't want to.


I never expected this relationship to go as it did. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone the day I met them. I wasn't expecting our first date to go as it did. And then one day we went from just "going on dates" to calling each other "my girlfriend" and truth be told, I wasn't expecting that later. It just kinda... happened, as weird as that sounds. I just kinda fell into this relationship.

I was happy. We had a lot of interests in common - we're both nonbinary, we both love mysteries and cryptids and 'Star Trek'. They're intelligent, funny, sweet. Their family adored me. It was fun.

And then they told me they loved me. And I opened my mouth to say it back, except... I couldn't, because it would have been a lie.

Honestly, I felt like Anne in that passage of Anne of the Island when Gilbert proposed the first time (except for me and my ex are probably not gonna eventually marry anyway because my life is not a turn-of-the-century novel):

"Oh, don't say it," cried Anne, pleadingly. "Don't -- PLEASE, Gilbert."
"I must. Things can't go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I -- I can't tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you'll be my wife?"
"I -- I can't," said Anne miserably. "Oh, Gilbert -- you -- you've spoiled everything."
"Don't you care for me at all?" Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during which Anne had not dared to look up.
"Not -- not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don't love you, Gilbert."

I realised that I didn't love them. I wasn't even really that attracted to them. I thought they were cute, and kissing was fun and all, but I liked the idea of being in a relationship more than I liked the person I was in a relationship with. And that wasn't fair to them. They deserve someone who can give them the affection they want, the love they want. That isn't me.

I should have broken up with them then and there.

I waited weeks do so. Because they had done nothing to deserve this, and I didn't want to hurt them. I don't like breaking hearts, and on some level I felt this was all my fault. I'd encouraged their affections because I liked the attention, if I'm being honest. It sounds terrible when I lay it all out like that, but it's true. And it all happened so fast - we just met in August!

So I grew distant. I didn't respond to their texts as often, coming up with lame excuses like "I'm busy lately" because I didn't know what to do. I know it's horrible. I feel awful about it. But I couldn't work up the courage to do it until they finally confronted me and I had to break it off.

To their credit, they took it relatively well. They were hurt, but there was no screaming or sobbing or anything, they agreed it was probably for the best. Another friend pointed out to me last night that on some level they'd probably seen it coming.

And even though I'd known it was coming, even though they took it well, I was... really depressed over it for weeks on end afterwards.

It was the right thing to do, breaking it off. But also it sucked. No one likes hurting someone like that. And, honestly, I didn't want to be single again just like that. Not that I mind being single but it was kinda nice having someone to kiss, I like kissing. And honestly, I felt like a failure. Like I'd failed at yet another fucking relationship, just like I always do.

Eventually, that initial pain began to subside. I say "began to" because on some level it's still there, but I've decided to stop fucking moping when I did it to my fucking self, and instead I need to learn from all of this.

I need to figure out what I want in a partner - and if I really even want a partner or if I just wanna go to that lesbian bar in Park Slope and make out with a stranger - and I need to really learn to be honest with myself about my feelings, to not draw things out with someone who wants more from me than I can give.

On some level, I'm still learning all that stuff that my straight friends learned in their late teens and early twenties, I guess.

-Nym