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Lav's Web Cottage

Spicy noodles for dinner (sad times)

Things feel a bit heavy at the moment, and the forecast is that the heaviness might stay for a while. Tomorrow, I will be ending a romantic relationship that would have lasted a decade in December - and if I’m being honest I’m feeling a bit sick about it. It’s the right decision, but that doesn’t make it feel good. Or right. Or easy. Or plain.

It’s a weird feeling, to be honest. We don’t argue, and we don’t bicker. We hardly disagree with anything, and we laugh pretty often. We share memes and pictures of dogs being silly and cat’s being goofy. He makes me a cup of tea when I need one, and he knows how I like it. He kisses my forehead.

It’s just that, when we kiss, it all feels empty. We haven’t shared a bed in years (metaphorically or physically). He has told me, explicitly, that the top priority in his life is himself, and second is his (mediocre and minimum wage) job, and then maybe me. He said he wanted to change that, but he didn’t. That was a year ago. He doesn’t help around the house, and my home - my sanctuary - is always a mess of grubby finger prints on walls, cabinet doors with drip marks, un-vaccuumed floors, and spider webs with whole communities in the corners. I’ve been away a lot these past 10 months for uni (5 out of 7 days most weeks), and he just continued on as normal. I come home to rest, but actually I just clean until I leave again. My standards aren’t even high - I just want to go to the toilet without a family of daddy long legs watching me, or to walk around bare footed without getting filthy soles.

We actively see other people, and we’re honest about it. It temporarily saved us for a while, but I don’t think it does anymore. There’s not enough bandaids in the world to hold-back a death by a thousand cuts.

What feels the weirdest is this day, break-up-eve. He’s away today, with his girlfriend in the city. And I’m here, alone and cleaning and feeling resolved. It’s like all the blood ran out, and took my ability to persevere with it.

Despite feeling resolved I still feel out-of-step with reality. Tomorrow will be painful, and hard. I have the plan in my head: pack the car, wait for him to arrive, and then tell him.

Tell him that I love him, and that I’m too sad to continue. Tell him to marry his girlfriend, that she is a good girl and she’s strong and she’s principled and she’s beautiful and she deserves to be taken care of. Tell him not to wait 10 years to tell her, casually, that we’re never getting married. Tell him that she’s his last chance, and that she is too precious to waste. Tell him to pick up a mop, a duster, a vacuum, and use it - and not wait for a pat on the head about it. Tell him that he deserves to be with someone who isn’t waiting for him to change. Tell him that I deserve to be with someone I’m not hoping will change.

And then leave. And cry at the petrol station near-by until I can breathe again. And then drive.

I can do this. I can have a house that feels safe, warm, and comforting. I can be financially unburdened by someone else's excessive habits. I can save money to travel. I can paint my walls dusty rose, or sage green, and make an effort in my space because no one else will ruin it. I can come home and breathe, and ground, and feel safe. I can cook for myself, and be accountable for my own needs.

What I can no longer do is abandon myself.

Spicy noodles for dinner.