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Another Failed Relationship

Updated on April 21, 2011

Another failed relationship

The tears poured down my red cheeks as I ran in the streets of Manhattan after the man I had loved for so long. He had walked out of my apartment so fast that I didn’t even get to say a preposition. My vision blurry from my tears and my throat constricted with the many words I wanted to say, I ran. I got to Lexington street with one shoe, the other was somewhere between 9th avenue and Broadway. I finally spotted him getting out of a cab. “Julian wait!” With all of the running I did, I thought I would’ve had something better to say, “ where ….are… you going?” I stuttered. I looked up to stare in his brown eyes, he shot me the most disappointing look and that’s when it hit me. Julian and I were over. This man, like all the others was walking out on me. I took my shoe off and made my way home barefoot. I had picked up every possible particle off the pavement yet I couldn’t pick myself up from the shame and the pain of having, yet, another failed relationship. Why is a 22-year-old woman like myself incapable of having a decent relationship? If I haven’t mastered the skills of being the perfect girlfriend at twenty, will I at thirty? That afternoon, I spent two hours in bed, thinking about what went wrong with Julian, and I was still clueless. As always, the way to mend my broken heart laid in the hands of Barbara Streisand, Aretha Franklin, and of course Billie Holiday. I played my grandma’s old records as I sorted through my closet. I was once again a single gal with too much time on her hands.

“Julian and I broke up.” My sisters looked at me as if I had just told them that someone had passed. “When did it happen? You seemed to be getting along so well.” Kristin was the optimistic one, always flowers and butterflies on her side of the yard. “I think you guys are simply going through a rough patch right now. He’ll call you soon, I know it.” “Thanks for the optimism Kris but I think this one is truly over. The look he gave me when he said it, don’t think I’ll ever recover.” “Well what happened?” asked Cathleen who was the hardball of the family and was undoubtedly enjoying her martinis a little too much. “ He just said he couldn’t do it anymore. I went to sleep in his arms happy and he; I guess woke up on the other side of the bed grumpy and apparently miserable enough to call the whole thing off. I mean we’ve been arguing a lot lately, but I thought it was bringing us closer.” “Men are unpredictable, Julian wasn’t mature enough to handle your independence and your strength. Men are afraid of strong women Barbara.”

I went home after a long day of shopping and couldn’t help but think, was Cathleen right? Are men so intimidated by strong women that they would give up a good thing because of it? I sat on my bed and replayed the whole thing in my head. I wasn’t strong. i was in need of him, his warm touch on my skin and of his rare comforting words. I needed him to tell me he loved me and that he would still move in with me once we got to buffalo.

The next day I met with Damien, one of my dearest friends who happen to love and hate the male gender as much as I did. Three and a half Mojitos later, I was rambling to him about Julian. “ I spent the whole day listening to Barbra Streisand in his boxers, I mean I cried so much that around 1 this morning I thought I had conjunctivitis. I can barely touch my nose, I probably have invisible nostril scars.” He looked at me with the most sarcastic eyes and said, “you poor poor thing!” then slammed his glass on the table and said, “ If I have to hear another word about this relationship Babs, I swear I’ll strangle you. You need to move on, Julian was a dick and you know it. I mean gee! Must you always fall this hard for the bad guys? You didn’t whine that much about Anthony.” As offended as I was with his brutal yet honest reaction, I knew he was right and that was exactly what I needed to hear to start the process of moving on. I ordered a large chocolate shake hoping it would mend my wounds and persuade my too honest friend to talk about the amount of calories I was absorbing, instead of how pathetic my life was, once again.

I woke up the next day, the sun was making its way through my sheer curtains and I found myself, for the first time in a very long time, on the other side of the bed. I opened my eyes to let the light clarify my vision so I could get up and realize that things were going to be different. I sat up, looked around my empty apartment and had a strange tingle in my stomach, but this time, it was the good kind of tingle. The one you usually get when you’re happy. I turned my radio as loud as I could and jumped in the shower. I hoped to wash away yesterday’s dirt off, along with Julian, who was now, no longer in my future.


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