Lay lady, lay.

Ironically, the last time I blogged was to announce my engagement.
Surprise, surprise, it's ended.

There's so much that goes into the downfall of any relationship. You can never blame just one person, or one event.
It was probably an ill-gotten engagement in the first place. I mean, it wasn't even a ring purchased for me. Rule #6587 never accept a leftover ring from a previous broken engagement. That's bad juju or some shit.

So anyhow, it was one of those "grand gestures" that we always see in romantic comedies staring B-list actors from failed TV sitcoms. It was suppose to save our relationship and erase past tragedy. Start fresh. Start new. Build a new foundation.

Except, well, you can't really do that can you? You can build a new office building on top of a landfill, but it will still smell like shit every hot day in July.

I would say the main thing we forgot was how to be friends first. Friends above everything.
So concerned with how much (or in his case) how little sex we were having. So concerned with being romantic. So concerned with kissing each other's families asses. So concerned with being a perfect "couple" that we forgot to just be our imperfect selves.

We were working hard on rebuilding our long lost friendship. Back to the days when we could just smoke and drink and laugh on the couch. Playing video games. Watching movies. No arguing. NO bickering.

But one final coup de grace ended it all. If my life were a movie directed by Cameron Crowe (which I totally am going to pitch one day) some really beautiful song would be playing while we fought soundless in slow motion. Maybe Angie by the Rolling Stones. Maybe Lay Lady Lay to be purposely contrasting..(the Dylan version.) Anyhow I digress. The director would capture the pain. The frustration. Flashing police lights. Frantic grabbing of clothes. The car driving off at 4 am driving totally from memory because there were too many tears to actually see the road. And at some point, the camera would zoom in, and for a brief moment you would see something change in my face. Something that died. Something that was once there, that left. In that moment, you would know, this time was the last time.

But it wasn't. I went back. I tried. We both tried. We fell into our normal pattern. Almost a parody of two people in a healthy relationship. For the first time in over a year I received roses. In the first time in probably as much time, I played his beloved video game with him.
We were being two perfect people in love. It was our finest acting performance to date.

In reality, that anger and the bitterness and the jealously and the mistrust and resentment and every other evil was still there.
Just covered.
And I realized that this would be the pattern for the rest of our lives unless someone was strong enough to leave.

And so I did.

We're currently in that whole "who is having the cooler breakup" competition.
Trying to pretend like two whole people haven't been irreparably damaged.
We haven't spoken. I don't even know what we would have left to say.
He's already begun hanging out with some girl he's previously had sex with (during one of our many breaks)
Which always feels nice.
I haven't moved on quite so quickly. I always have had a difficult time separating sex from love, so I'm forcing myself to be celibate for a bit.
Living with my mother like I"m 16 again. (One of the things you don't think about is the fact that you can't even masturbate at home. So Im like, bitchy times 59)
But thats ok. I'll find some inner zen.

I plan on going to LA next week to visit friends. To get away.

I plan on losing 10lbs. To falsely comfort myself.

I probably won't do either.

We'll see.