A little while back, my girlfriend and I had been fighting for the past hour, I don’t know how it started but I was attempting to end it by vacating the premises. I hop in the shower, turn the radio on as she continues her diatribe and calling me every name but a child of God. I lose myself in my thoughts…
I can’t do this anymore
Why am I leaving this is my house
I bet she going through my phone looking for ammo
Wait was that glass breaking…
I get out the shower, unlock the door and see remnants of what was my full length mirror (I loved that mirror yo) she is still stomping and yelling, no remorse, no respect. I’d never put my hands on a woman but it was perhaps one of the rare times I even felt close to it. I just glared into her red, swelling, tear filled eyes, and…i didn’t see the woman I fell in love with. I didn’t see the woman I wanted to build a life with, was I tripping this whole time, maybe, but what I did know was like the mirror this relationship was irreparable.
My anger dissolved into disappointment.
Breakups are humbling, they happen for one of two reasons; you were not enough to keep her happy, or you chose the wrong one. My breakups were usually more amicable than this one but the humbling is all the same. You go back and try and look for the red flags you missed, you use revisionist history to make them appear to never have been sh t, you carry that disappointment to the next courtship so concerned that this one is no different, lather rinse repeat. (I’m told eventually you find the right one but you know, whatever.) You’ve been humbled by love; something as logistically simple as finding one person who makes you happy and keeping them happy, and you suck at it. You pick the wrong one or the wrong one picks you and you don’t know better til you know better. But, why don’t I know better?
In hindsight it always makes sense, “of course she was a heaux you smashed the first night” (not saying that all women who do… U know what I’m getting off track) The girl who never left home wasn’t ready to build a life with you, you don’t say? She never stopped talking about her ex and it turns out she still wants him, whoa didn’t see that coming. They all made sense at the time, well I at least convinced myself that they did. Then they don’t and I’m tending to my wounds telling myself I’ll be smarter next time.
There was a point here, I think…ah yes, what do you do when you don’t trust your own judgement anymore?
Buy a bunch of dating books, email your favorite blogger for advice (well I’m still here because I care, and so does Tupac). You do nothing, you identify common threads, adjust your filters and keep searching. As for my common threads (big butts and a smile?) I’m still adjusting and I think I maybe could might know exactly who what I want. I’m tired of being wrong.