One Month Later + The Republican

It’s been a month since the breakup. And I’m OK. I can’t believe it, but I’m really OK. The first two weeks were hell. Pure hell. I couldn’t make my brain understand how an argument over me changing my hairstyle could lead to the rocket scientist breaking up with me the next day. I remember asking him if my hair was a dealbreaker and holding my breath waiting for him to say “no.” Which he didn’t. Instead he said he had to think about whether he could be with someone that didn’t have straight hair, which was his preference. Then he went to bed. I slept on his couch that night. He came out to ask me to come to bed, but I was so hurt, I told him I had some things to think about, too. The next day was the Superbowl. We had planned to watch the game together and just veg out. I had even planned out a “game day” menu to get in the mood because I actually hate football. I was going to make buffalo wings and potato skins from scratch. And a peach-cherry cobbler. I was in the kitchen preparing the wings, unthawing them, sprinkling them with seasoning salt. We were going about our weekend plans as if nothing had happened the night before. Unless you looked at our faces. We both looked stressed, too nervous to talk about what our conversation had really meant. He had never come out and said that my hair wasn’t a dealbreaker. He just kept saying, “it shouldn’t be” and that he didn’t want to think of himself as a “superficial asshole.”  I think he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t. I asked him how could he really love me if my hair could make him reconsider whether he wanted to be with me or not? I got angrier every time he repeated the superficial asshole part, which he did several times. I asked him if he really wanted to be with me. He said he didn’t think I’d look at him the same way after the hair incident. He said he thought it was best that we break up.

And you know what happened in the aftermath. I thought that was that. We broke up after we had a fight over me changing my hair, which may or may not have triggered something else that he felt was wrong with our relationship. I tried not to put too much energy into trying to figure it out. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t for me to figure out.

Until the rocket scientist’s “friend” left this comment on my blog post about the breakup:

February 21, 2010 | 8:47 am
friend of a friend

It’s so hard to read this, as it’s one side of the story. Knowing Rocket Scientist, and knowing the other side of the story…

I was doing well until I read that. The person left it as an anonymous comment, but it took me about three minutes to figure out who it was. One of his friends I had heard about, but never met. She’s a mommy blogger and seemed like a cool sister when I read about her and her life. But here she was, invading my healing space with this cryptic comment as if I wasn’t telling the whole story. As if I had done something wrong to cause the breakup that I wasn’t acknowledging. So I left this reply for her:

February 21, 2010 | 11:43 am
Rosetta

I wish I knew the other side of the story….

And I truly did want to know what she thought she knew. I wanted to know what the rocket scientist had been telling people about me and why we broke up. So I emailed him. I told him I didn’t appreciate his friend commenting on my blog as if she had some type of inside information. I told him that it opened up that wound again of me not really understanding why we broke up except for the fact that it was triggered by my decision to change my hair.

Then he called me. “What’s the problem?” he asked, like I had no reason to be annoyed. He said since all my “girlfriends were making comments,” how come his friend couldn’t come to his defense? I was quiet. He knew about her comment? Of course he knew, he would have had to give her the address to my blog. In that moment, I realized just how petty he could be. I write about my life. This is what I do; this is what I’ve always done. He was fine with it when I was gushing about our great life together, but he was mad about me tarnishing his “good guy” image on my blog. I said, “no one even knows who you ARE on my blog except that you’re a rocket scientist.” He was acting as if my readers were going to come to his job and beat his ass for breaking up with me. This isn’t CN fucking N. This is a personal blog. And if you’re in my personal life, you’re bound to be in it. He said he wanted our conversation to be off the record, which I initially agreed to. Then I realized how ridiculous that was. I’m gonna honor his wishes after he sent his friend to leave some stupid comment on my blog? No, he does not have a say in my life anymore which is really the point of this whole story. He can tell his friend to come comment on that. But next time, she needs to bring a better “defense.”

Two rules:

1. It’s so much easier to get over a man once he pisses you off.

2. It’s also easier to get over a man if you can replace him with another one.

Both of these reasons led me to actually start paying attention to the guys who were checking out my dating profile on Match.com. And then Omari told me to join OK Cupid, which is actually pretty cool. It seems less stuffy to me than Match.com for some reason. So one night I’m in a winking kind of mood. I come across this short guy on OK Cupid with glasses that seems pretty quirky. My type of man. His profile also says he’s an introvert, which intrigues me because I’m an introvert yet most of my boyfriends have been extroverts. I wink. He emails me. I give him my number. And we talk on the phone for two hours that night. Two introverts talking up a storm. When I hang up, I realize I had never talked on the phone that long with the rocket scientist. Weird.

What’s also weird is that he’s a Republican. He’s only the second openly Republican black man I’ve ever come across. Maybe I actually know more closet Republicans with the GOP being such a minority in DC. We have something like 88 percent of residents identifying as Democrat. His political affiliation immediately conjures up images of Tea Party crazies who hate the blacks and the gays. I tell him I can’t go out with him. He texts me to say that he’s not “all Republican” and he still wants to take me out. I don’t know what that means so I ask him if he hates gay people. He says no, he doesn’t hate gays. His best friend is gay.

Smileyface.

I change my mind about going out with him. I was thinking how ignorant he must be because of his political party, but then maybe I’m ignorant, too. A little bit. About Republicans. The plan was to go for dinner and a movie. I ask him does he want to see Alice in Wonderland. He says his male ego won’t let him admit that he wants to see a movie called Alice in Wonderland, but that he wants to go out with me and if that’s what I want to see, that’s what we’ll go see.

Smileyface.

We get to the restaurant (which unfortunately doesn’t take reservations, he tells me as we walk from his car) and it’s packed. So we go to the one across the street. We end up missing the movie, but it’s fine with me. I’m enjoying hearing his story. I’m enjoying sharing my story.

Most of all, I’m happy that I can be out on a date a month after I get dumped by the love of my life and actually have fun. And even if I never see the Republican again, he has helped me to realize that I’m OK. I’m really OK.

P.S. Thank you guys for all of your comments. They really mean a lot to me and have lifted me up countless times during all those “pure hell” days.

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