Breaking up is hard to do

In my relatively short life I been in 7 maybe 8 breakups. Andy makes 8 (or 9 depending on your count). Of those I would only classify 3 as being major. Major being defined as that horrible awful pain you feel in your gut when your heart gets stomped on as the result of the end of whatever hormone induced goodness makes you feel all fuzzy inside. This particular breakup however is already unlike any of the previous 8 that came before it. There's none of that familiar hate that normally fuels a breakup. The anger, the yelling, the ceremonial ripping of pictures none of it is there. Well I lie, it was there for about 3 days and then we talked and it dissipated and I slept better than I had slept in months. Andy, being the world class pessimist that he is takes this lack of anger and horrible soul crushing pain as evidence that I didn't love him as much as the rest. I however, as always, see it totally differently. Its evidence that a) I grew the fuck up in the last 4 years and b) that I love him so much more than I could have even imagined loving anyone before. There's just sadness here. That's all there is. I'm not breaking up with someone I hate I'm breaking up with someone I adore and that is a billion times worse. Its easy to end a relationship when there's nothing left and much harder to end one when things just aren't working and you wish it was different and wish you'd just done the whole thing right instead of taking it for granted and being a selfish bitch. Things just are what they are.

Maybe it just hasn't hit me, and a week from now when I'm in Texas a horrible tsunami of pain will incapacitate me. Its entirely possible. Somehow I doubt that though. There just isn't any hate here anywhere between us. Yes, he let me down. But I let him down too. In the end all that amounts to is regret and a wish that we'd done this better than we did and maybe just the faintest glimmer of hope that someday we wont be so stupid.