Perhaps it seems flippant to observe that breakups don’t seem so traumatic once one’s been through a divorce. After all, I’ve seen the worst that it’s possible for a relationship to get. And I’ve survived.
This time, I invested just six months (rather than more that a decade). No house, no children, no shared accounts. But that doesn’t mean the past week has been easy…
- The loneliness that I’m sure I’ve felt over the past couple of years but had forgotten has come back, and I feel it acutely in walking by a romantic cafe or driving by the coffee shop where we first met.
- I see an ad for a romantic getaway in a quaint destination and feel regret that we didn’t get to enjoy it together. There were so many things I’d been looking forward to sharing.
- Finally, I have been surprisingly lax in the grooming of my bikini area. Yes, I know…TMI.
Somehow, today, amidst the chaos of children at home and relatives visiting, he dropped off some belongings that had been at his place and managed to go completely unseen. I found myself sad that I didn’t get at least a glimpse, a reassuring smile, a warm hug…
Still, I have no regrets. It’s been nice to miss someone, to remember our times together fondly…