November 2014


Style Credit

  • Base style: Drifting by Jennie Griner
  • Theme: Heart of Darkness by nornoriel
  • Resources: OSWD design

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Tuesday, July 11th, 2017 01:06 pm
 Chris and I broke up last night. "We are all OK," as grandma and grandpa used to always write in their Christmas cards. 

We went to Nashville last week for a wedding, and I think it got us both noodling. By the time he left for a conference in Denver, Chris seemed like he was thinking pretty hard about something, but didn't clue me in on what it was, other than to say that he'd wished he'd stayed in touch with the Vandy folks better. I was also noodling pretty hard, but trying to keep my noodling secret. I didn't know what I wanted to say, what my thesis statement was, and I definitely didn't want to get into it when we were out of town and trapped in a tiny AirBnb together. 

Bottom line: I sat at his friends' wedding and thought "we don't have that. We've never had that." Now, I know that people are putting their best feet forward during a wedding and it's not like they were going to have the rabbi read a passage about "that time we had a fight because we couldn't decide on a Netflick to watch" or "omg, don't walk on the carpet in your shoes," but still. By the time we were at the wedding, we had already bickered about when to leave for the airport, "why didn't you double check the time for the wedding?" and "don't stick your whole freaking arm in the box of cereal." 

But for real. I don't care if the raisins ARE in the bottom, don't stick your whole arm in the box of cereal. 

I left Nashville sure of what I needed to do. I felt loved and cared for and not invisible. I felt like myself, rather than a ghost who lives in the guest room. I had interactions with strangers that were not painful and awkward. I needed to go home. Then I saw his face at the airport and suddenly didn't know again. I spent the next day psyching myself up and not listening to that over-optimistic voice in my head that says "but there's still a chance!"

Girl. Stop. Blow the whistle on this shit before you both hate each other.

So I did, but it should be pointed out that I think he'd wanted to for a couple weeks and just didn't know how. "Do you think maybe we should just call it while we can still be friends?" "I think so, man. But we tried, and that's something." "Yep. Will you still play video games with me on the PlayStation?" "Hell yes."

And so we talked some more and cried a lot and hugged and then had a glass of bourbon to seal the deal. We were sad, but also relieved that we each at least had a direction. My life was no longer a long line of question marks stretching endlessly in front of me.

This morning, I finally gave life to all of my secret, guilt-inducing googling and got pre-approved for a home loan. I emailed my realtor. The scary machinery that is necessary to get my ass back to Nashville creaked into motion just like that. I am freaked out about all of it. It will be expensive and exhausting, but at least I'm a lot less poor than when I did this in 2008. Thanks to the sale of my old house, I can avoid PMI this time. 

There are a bunch of things that I'm not really ready to do. I am not ready to make a list of the things we've bought together and ask Chris whether he wants to buy out my half or let me buy out his half. I am not ready to point a vicious editor's eye at everything I own and ditch a bunch of it. With Nashville real estate the way it is, my house hunt will either go incredibly quickly or take a while, either giving me no time to worry or plenty of time to get ready. The time frame is "as soon as possible, but don't rush into anything."

I feel sad that we came up here both expecting to get married and instead we learned that we're too much alike to not murder each other, but I'm not sorry for anything I did. We tried! We said we'd give it a year and we did! We're still going to be friends! And I think we actually mean that!

But it's time to come home, y'all. It's time to come home.