Hey. Thanks For Breaking Up With Me.

(NOTE: Based on time elapsed since the posting of this entry, the BS-o-meter calculates this is 10.854% likely to be something that Ferrett now regrets.)

It’s been a few months – or is it years? I can’t remember now. All I can remember is that you left, and I just wanted to say:
Thanks for that.
You broke it off cleanly: no texts left hanging in space, no lengthening space between dates.  No, you called up one day and said “It’s over,” and so it was.
That was good.
It didn’t make me happy at the time, mind you – if it was something I’d been seeking, I would have broken up with you.  But even though you broke my heart, you demonstrated something worth showing:
You protected your happiness.
I had become someone you didn’t trust any more to look after your best interests, and out I went.
Because I loved you, that’s something I can – and should – respect.  You weren’t the sort of woman to tolerate me in your life for years at a time, bemoaning all the problems I caused in the faint hope that somehow I’d improve.  You gave me time to improve, I didn’t, and it was gone.
And to be honest, I wasn’t entirely happy either, was I?  We were both sad and frustrated at that point, circling like punch-drunk boxers in the ninth round, hoping like hell that somehow we’d make it connect –
– when honestly, we never would.
You were strong enough to call it off with me when the goodness trickled low enough that this relationship wasn’t worth harvesting any more.  That ending still stings at times, because you didn’t allow me to ride it all the way to the bitter end, wringing out every last droplet of happiness we could have had through long arguments and ugly silences.  I’m still fond of you because there was fondness left when you clipped the vine.
Some days I clip the vine.  I know how hard it is to look into someone’s eager eyes and tell them it’s over.  And I know how much strength it takes to do the quick mercy of breaking up rather than running it into the ground.
Thanks for that.
I still think of you fondly, sometimes, now that the anger’s passed.  Some days I wonder if we could be friends, and if that day happens when a reconnection sprouts organically, well, I’ll take it.
But for now, I have faith you’re happy.  You were strong enough to guard your happiness when you felt someone else was pulling you off-course.
I support that act of protection.  Even when it was me.

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