Today should be Day 60 of the hardest breakup – the hardest season – of my life. It should be Day 60, but it’s not. Because – wait for it – Nathan and I are back together.
In the words of Barney Stinson: “Wud up?”
So here’s how it happened: Saturday night Nathan said he’d like to hang out again soon. We decided on Sunday (yesterday) at South Side Diner. We were there for six hours. We just kept talking and talking about dreams, out-of-body experiences, his family, my friends, our friends, WordPress (shout out!), Marshall McLuhan, marijuana, New Year’s Eve, food/diet, how he’s like Jude Law’s character in Contagion, God/religion/belief, etc.
It felt like an hour, tops.
We left at 11:15 p.m., and went our separate ways. I went home and took a let’s-get-the-South-Side-smell-off-my-body-a.s.a.p. shower and ate a fig bar. We texted, briefly, about how the night was fun blah-blah-blah.
Well, I told him I wanted to hug him. I did. So badly. When we went out to our cars there was an awkward lingering he should have interpreted as “Please hug me, dammit!” but he didn’t. Nathan texted back that he wanted to hug me too.
So, I came over to hug him. And we hugged, but he didn’t let go.
I swear, that hug was like a freaking spiritual experience. I realized 1 second the hug that this is what I wanted – nothing else. I wanted him and his embrace and all that that meant. I wasn’t going to let go either.
We eventually let go – eventually.
And we kissed some and talked for another 6 or 7 hours.
Part of me feels guilty. I get whatever I want. I swear, I do.
I know my happiness is my happiness (and, in this case, Nathan’s happiness) and no one else’s. I can’t expect anyone to be excited for me. I know you all have shared with me these 60 awful days, but I don’t expect you to be happy that Nathan and I are back together. Why should you be?
If my happiness relies on your approval, than my life won’t be filled with much happiness.
More on this later, I presume.
But until then, I’m going to spend time with my boyfriend. Round II.