I can’t believe it’s already been five days since the breakup. It’s funny how time works. One minute you’re together and then, poof! The next minute you’re not. My mind won’t let me remember everything that happened the day we broke up – Superbowl Sunday. As if I needed another reason to hate football. If I hear one more person talking ’bout “who dat” I’m gonna scream on them. No joke.
I remember that he tried to say some nice parting words in the car as he drove me home on Sunday. He was talking about all the good times we had. He was telling me that he wished me the best and to give his regards to my family. It was like a scene from a really bad movie. It was as if for a moment he’d gone brain-dead. Your regards??? I wanted to scream. You spend eight months with my family and you want me to give them your regards??? I wanted to tell him to take his regards and shove them up his ass. Instead I said nothing. Instead I stared out of the window at the snow, wishing to God that the car would zoom backwards in time to the summer when we first met. Where we could start all over.
I forgot to eat for the first three days. I say “I forgot” not that I couldn’t eat because I really think I was fighting so hard to keep myself together that I literally put eating on the bottom of my to-do list. I slept in the same clothes I wore on Superbowl Sunday for two nights in a row. I couldn’t take a shower. That would mean that that horrible day had really happened.
I didn’t do much else for these past five days besides talk to family and friends about what happened. I take that back. I ate Blow Pops. I walked to the store in the snow and bought a big bag of Blow Pops. I ate those for three days. I drank bourbon and coke. And I cried. A lot. I listened to Corinne Bailey Rae on repeat. Also, Sade. Also, Sarah McLachlan. I worked harder than ever. I worked nonstop. Emails, projects, blogging. I was surprised I could think straight.
I also reactivated my Match.com subscription. I just needed someone to wink at me. I can’t even imagine dating anyone right now.
No one could believe the rocket scientist chose to break up with me over me going natural with my hair. But I’d been thinking the same thing as Vivrant Thang. It had to be something more than the fact that I decided to change my hairstyle. I just wished I knew what it was.
So I called him.
But first I wrote an email. It wasn’t an “I hate your guts and hope you burn in hell” email. It was more like a “how could you do this to me” email. To which he did not respond.
I called him yesterday morning at 6:30am because I knew he’d be up. He’s a ridiculously early riser. I had to get some kind of closure. He answered on the second ring. “Hi, Rosetta,” he said. Rosetta??? What happened to “sweetheart?” Then I remembered that I was no longer his sweetheart. I took three deep breaths. “Don’t tell me you broke up with me because of my hair. I can’t believe that,” I said. I spoke really loudly, like he had a hearing aid. It was the only way to keep from crying. He sighed. “No, that’s not the reason why.”
We talked for maybe fifteen minutes. He brought up some “personal demons” about his past that shed some more light on why my hairstyle change may have acted as a trigger for him to break up with me. I remembered that he’d dated a woman for two years once, then dumped her for no apparent reason. He said he needed to be single again for a while.
I felt like a casualty.
I wrote another email because Sade said that love is stronger than pride. I told him that we could work through whatever it was together. That we should talk things over in person. He said he had to think about it. Which I knew meant that he’d made up his mind. He called me this morning with the same, “Hi, Rosetta.” I shut my eyes tight. He said something about having to deal with his issues alone. He asked if we could be friends. Again, brain-dead. I started playing the lyrics to Deborah Cox and R.L.’s song “We Can’t Be Friends” in my head. I wanted to play it for him over the phone. We can’t be friends, ’cause I’m still in love with you.
I told him if he changed his mind, he knew where to find me.