Well, bless her heart.
Mine is the opposite of Kenobi’s tale:
I had only three more classes to take in order to finish my college degree. I knew that my girlfriend of 3 years had every expectation that I would give her an engagement ring during or shortly after my graduation party because she told me her life goal after high school was to get married, move into a house with a white picket fence, own two cars and bear 2.32 children; she saw education beyond high school as useless and had no career aspiration. I knew from the start of the relationship that I had no intention of siring offspring, much less arguing whether or not Junior should be encouraged to go to college or not. So with only one more semester to go, I ended the relationship even though I was still in love with her.
It turned out that the three classes I had to take got distributed across three more years of college. We both still associated with most of the same group of friends and I’d see her occasionally. Then work took me to another town.
It’s been 27 years since we broke up.
Last year I went to the wedding of one of those mutual friends. She scowled and turned her back on me no matter where I was. I managed to tap her elbow and deliver a bland compliment, “You look good.”
She thanked me, then scowled and turned her back. It helped me realize…
[ul]
[li]She hasn’t moved on.[/li][li]I made the right decision.[/li][/ul]
–G!
Girl, it’s over now
Let the words go free
But don’t start thinkin’
'bout you and me…
…–Jack Blades (NightRanger)
…Don’t Start Thinkin (I’m alone tonight)
…Man In Motion
Yes, twice. The first time, he dumped me and was completely justified in doing so, and the second time, we had come to a mutual realization that we didn’t have as much in common as we initially thought we did, and the relationship could not continue.
That’s all I wish to share here.
Did I mind breaking up? Not at all. That was my plan. Do I want to get back together? Not at all. I’m afraid of her.
Did I still love her when we broke up? Yes, I admired, trusted and respected her. I didn’t think that loving her meant that I couldn’t break up with her: I mean, I love my family, but I moved out of my parents home, and I hope the kids will move out of my home one day.
But apart from loving her, there was a lot of baggage. She was attached to everything in my past. She was the whole centre of my present. And she was attached to all my hopes for the future. The breakup found me in a place where /everything/ was attached to her. Past, present and future. What do I do next? What do I do now? I least I had… So yes, I thought about her a lot.
Same is true in a much smaller amount for my Father. I still see things I wish I could tell him about. I still find questions I wish I could ask him about. I still miss him: I’m still glad he’s dead.
Ain’t that the truth!