Because I deserve it, our unexpected breakup has me backtracking to all of my past relationship failures to kick myself. For some reason, Finn ending things over a ridiculous bowling game caused a lot more introspection than the previous boyfriends who lasted far longer.
With age comes wisdom, they say, but I don’t seem to get smarter.
What really got under my skin was the “Hope you’re okay” text Finn sent today. As if I shouldn’t be okay. As if I can’t function and crawled under a blanket weeping, praying for his return. Not at all. His message put me in an awkward position I don’t appreciate. If I ignored him, he’d possibly think I’m devastated beyond repair and seek me out to confirm I was indeed okay. But I didn’t want to reply, so I deleted it. Now I’ll seem bitter. It’s a classic catch-22.
To be clear, I’m not angry with Finn. Perhaps envious that in a twisted way he has a precise ideal of what he requires in a woman. Good for him. My wants in a relationship are shifting and changing daily. At twenty, all I wanted was a dude who didn’t wear cargo shorts. Ha. Now I just want a guy who appreciates me. What the outcome will be, I have no idea. And now I’m not okay, because again, being dumped sucks.
Thank God for great friends. I have dragged myself from my mope-fest to help Charlotte pack. Well, to watch her pack. What can I say? In terms of emotional support, hanging out at Austin’s half-barren house, lounging in a beanbag chair, is just what I need.
“You guys can never dump me,” I say. “I won’t allow it.”
Since the sectional is now gone to its new home at Charlotte’s, she stretches out by my feet. “Chloe, as if. You’re stuck with us for life.”
“Thank you. I wonder if he’ll want his rock back? I never should have invited him to the craft fair.”
“Don’t let this keep you from putting yourself back out there,” she says. “Finn was a spring fling.”
I like that term. Sounds sordid and is an accurate description of our brief time together. Of the four seasons of love, our short-lived romance fit spring best. I forced myself out there and planted the seeds. Who cares if it didn’t blossom because Finn killed it?
“He was a nut,” Austin says, propping up my fragile self-esteem. “Who makes you bowl competitively against his stepmother to decide if it will work out?”
Despite my doldrums, I laugh, because to hear it spoken out loud is comical. “And I tried so hard… I’m not a bowler. I still can’t believe he sent me home in an Uber. Or that I had to leave through the secret entrance to the basement. Could it be worse? Well, yeah, it could’ve been worse. King Henry had Anne Boleyn beheaded.”
Austin points at me. “That right there. How can he give up history facts?”
Cringeworthy moment happening right now. “I actually never shared any with him.”
“Seriously? Why?” he asks.
I shrug away my discomfort. “Just didn’t seem to fit our dynamic.”
“Can I ask you something?” Charlotte says. “I’m not judging, but why did you stick with him so long? He wasn’t very accommodating to your needs. It was a lot of what he liked and what he wanted.”
Obviously they saw what I ignored in Finn, but kept silent so I could figure it out on my own. We weren’t compatible. If he hadn’t dumped me, I wonder when I would have given up trying to make it work? Never, probably. My track record is horrendous. In all probability, I’m going to die on that hill alone. My marker will read, “Here lies Chloe...forever alone.”
“The abs, I guess.” Superficial but true. It’s embarrassing to admit to myself—to admit to my friends—it felt good to have someone who looked like that interested in me. Sad, but again, true. “There’s no sense in denying a lustful attraction drove the time I spent with Finn.”
“Well, can’t blame you there,” Charlotte says. “It was the dopamine.” She explains the science behind her logic and how our brains produce more levels of dopamine in the newness of spring. “It’s fascinating. All the colors and smells trigger us to fall in love. Or in your case, lust.”
“I’ll just close my eyes and hold my breath the next time I go outside.” I sink further into the beanbag chair. “Oh, well. Now I can eat food that isn’t steamed tofu. I won’t ever have a six-pack, not that one was imminent.”
“You’ve never struck me as a gym bunny in disguise,” Charlotte says tactfully. Hey, now.
“I’m going to take up yoga, though.”
Hard to believe those words are coming out of my mouth but I do actually mean them. I’ve gone over the classic pros and cons associated with breakups, and as much as I despised it, working out has toned me. I don’t want to give it up entirely. Plus, if I join a yoga class, it will help me be the bendy one in my next relationship. That is, if I pursue another one.
“Yes. We can do goat yoga,” Charlotte says. “That looks fun. Cute baby goats crawl all over you. A girl I work with says it’s a stress-free workout.”
“I should get a baby goat. They like hills and I won’t die alone.”
Austin rises from his chair and heads into the kitchen. “Be glad you lost at bowling, Chloe. Sounds like Jacqueline would’ve murdered you eventually.”
I know. I know. Even if our split was inevitable and for the better, it still stings to be on the receiving end yet again.
“You know, I’ve never been the one to break things off.” Just once, why can’t I be the kind of girl who realizes this shit first and does the breaking up instead of the other way around? I should’ve ended it. There were none of the things I wanted: napping, cuddling, hand-holding. Finn never even slept over at my house. And now, I want to wallow in my despair. Not over losing Finn, over the fact I can’t seem to find someone who is right. “I’m a terrible girlfriend. Clearly, I’m flawed.”
“No, you’re not,” Charlotte chastises, rejecting my criticism with a shake of her head.
“You have to say that because you’re my friend. Most likely, I would’ve ended up going to the Clown Motel to please him.” I give her a pointed look. “Think about that.”
“Hell no. I would’ve stopped you,” she says.
“Would you have been able to? I’m sure I would’ve made excuses to go and been terrified the entire time.”
“From a psychological perspective, until you value things you want in a relationship, you’re going to drag out the process with guys who are wrong for you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you’re too focused on making the wrong people right. If you need to work that hard at something, it’s time to quit.”
“It’s that darn masquerade outfit I never took off. I was masquerading all over the place.”
Austin returns with a bag of chips. “Um...were you role-playing?”
It’s probably my depressed imagination that he looks intrigued? “No. I read a column that said show who you really are and don’t disguise yourself. And I planned on doing that, but trying to make myself enjoy his hobbies distracted me.”
“Silver lining. That’s great introspection. You’re learning,” Charlotte says. “But listen, I only know what I read or study. There’s a world of difference in living it. Somehow, I lucked out and found my person early on. If I was single, I’d have gone for SuperFinn too.”