Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Reese and Ryan. Jennifer and Vince. Britney and KFed. RD and RCB.

And so it goes. Despite the exclusivity talk, the calls while away on boys’ weekend, and the four day/five night marathon date, RCB decided to step it up and, you guessed it, put the kabash on what I thought was starting to become RD’s first healthy relationship.

Um, yeah. Where the fuck did that come from? Left field, I tell you. Left. Field.

There is so much that I want to put into writing, to save for posterity about this break up conversation. But I have neither the time nor the desire, at least at this moment, to capture all of that. For you, or for myself. I may decide to put it in installments, just so that I have a record of my feelings and thoughts. But, in the meantime, you get the highlights.

Among the gems of the six hour (two three hour segments, divided by sleeping in the same bed with miles of mattress space between us) conversation were the following (in no particular order, mind you, and perhaps a bit paraphrased) gems (spoken, obviously, by him):

“I just see black clouds when I think about this relationship. And doom. It’s going to be a train wreck, and you’re going to be the one who gets hurt.”

“I never want to get married. Ever.”

“But, if I do get married, I don’t see us getting married.”

“You can’t bring me home to meet your parents.”

“I’m not in love with you and don’t know if I ever will be. I just don’t see us spending the rest of our lives together.”

“I love being with you and spending time with you. We laugh, we do things together, we have lots of fun. We can be together without being together. But it’s not right. It’s not going to work if we want two different things.”

“Why do you want to be with me? There is someone better out there.”

“I knew from the moment I set my eyes on you that something was going to happen between us.”

“I am really going to miss you.”

“We can still be friends—but I can’t be the guy who calls you after I break up with you.”

If I were to honor you all with my comments to these, you’d be here forever. And, really, what I said or didn’t say obviously made no difference whatsoever in the outcome of the conversation, as I am sitting here, alone, for the first weekend in three months (disregarding the weekends either of us were away). I did not get off the couch yesterday for eight hours, and then only because a very good friend of mine drove two hours to come and have dinner with me. I couldn’t bear to go into my bedroom (don’t worry, I’ve been there and slept there since) and the thought of eating or drinking anything made my insides turn.

Confusion, sadness and disappointment aside, I think that I need to be mature enough to recognize and accept that this is for the best. RCB could not give me what I needed (though, ironically, I think I was and would have continued to be a very good provider to him—perhaps a problem in and of itself). This was never a healthy relationship, as I always had doubts and trust issues (whether legitimate or not, unfortunately). But I wanted it to be. I wanted to make this work.

What is most unfortunate, and a lesson learned, is that the first real, meaningful, honest conversation we had was the one which led to the break up. I told him that, too—that I wished we had been this honest from the beginning, that it may have altered the relationship. He agreed, saying that would have made a difference but would not have changed the outcome. It would have just caused us to have this conversation even sooner than this.

Despite my heartache (which is slowly but surely fading away, thanks to the plethora of support I’ve received since he walked out the door), I am glad that he had the gumption (thanks, Jack Daniels) to bring this up. He is right—it was better to have this talk now than in two months or six months or a year. We probably saved ourselves (or me) a lot of drama and anxiety and sadness. But it was just such a surprise.

Before he left, he said he hoped that he didn’t get into the car and realize he had made the wrong decision. I told him the decision was his to make, that he had to make it before he left because once he closed the door behind him, there was no coming back, that I was never going to talk to him (theoretically) again. I told him that I could never let myself go back to him. He had hurt me twice, I said, and pretty much told me that he didn’t love me. How could I be stupid enough to let that person back into my life?

As stupid as I was to allow him to kiss me and hug me and be with me one last time before we parted ways. And maybe as stupid as it was to believe that he would, truly, miss me.

If he misses me half as much as I miss him right now, then he has a long road ahead of him.