Hello, Highness.

Remember when we used to stay up nights listening to records? I’m just realizing that there are entire generations of people who don’t actually understand the phrase ‘broken record.’ Wow. I’m old.

Although, I have to concede that I do not entirely understand it myself. I mean, a scratched record skips and repeats itself. A broken record just sits there being broken.

I refer to myself as a broken record in the context of being scratched. I am repeating myself, surely, but decidedly not just sitting here broken – though I’d probably be safer if I were…

In any event, we are approaching the one-week mark for ‘the world’s weirdest breakup.’

As you know, I have spent the better part of two years trying to figure out how to escape this relationship. There has been fighting, blame casting, spell casting (just kidding. But now that I’m thinking of it, I rather wish I’d tried it…), crying, praying, yelling… you get the picture.

At length, I decided I was just too tired to keep investing all my energy in making him wrong and trying to convince him of the way things ought to be. I mean, obviously he’s wrong, but I just couldn’t stand to live so focused on it anymore. 😉

We were talking one day, and I said, “The thing is, the way I want to live my life makes you profoundly uncomfortable; and the way you want to live your life makes me sad all the time.”

He said, “I don’t want you to be sad.” And the next day he went out and got his own apartment.

I confess to having been rather shocked.

And then it was done.

There was no fighting or arguing or crying or negativity of any kind, and they moved out.

 

I don’t actually get to live alone though, because the Kid is still here as often as not. His mom was supposed to come get him for the first weekend in SEVEN EFFING YEARS on Thursday… yeah. She didn’t show. So much for my weekend to myself. Sigh. No matter. It’s not like I was really going to whoop it up or paint the town red or anything.

(Have I always talked like an old person??)

Anyway, the crux of our problem was security. He is very attached to the idea of achieving security through control (can you imagine trying to control ME? I mean, really??), whereas I am more inclined toward the idea of security through bravery – otherwise known as being a heinously irresponsible non-adult sort of person, as shown through my first independent action of newfound singlehood…

 

So, yeah… I quit my job.

They’re dumb. They’re SO dumb. I mean, I have worked for some Nazis in my time, but this takes the cake. I can’t stand it anymore. My manager asked me why I had decided to quit, and I said I couldn’t justify clearing my personal life of situations that don’t give me what I need and deserve if I am then going to accept employment that doesn’t. You know?

So, here I sit with no boyfriend, no job, and no idea what’s next. It’d feel a lot like all those other times (broken record?), except I am not also homeless.

The nice bit about this repeating life is that I know how it ends. I always land on my feet. Something good always comes of it. So I’ll be looking forward to that. 🙂

 

In the meantime, it occurs to me that I might want a little more from life than this repeating pattern, and perhaps it’s time to switch it up a bit. I hope I have learned enough to manage to do that this time. If you see me looping around to the beginning of the same nonsense again anytime soon, I strictly charge you to fly out here and slap me in the face.

Thank you. 🙂

 

Love,

Whale

 

ps… I concur with all sentiments of your previous post and have only to add the names of Christian Bale and Paul Rudd to those who may feel most entirely free to initiate direct contact. Like, you don’t even have to call first. Just feel free to come on over.

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