When heartbreak goes both ways
We think breakups are the domain of the dumped and somehow heartbreak is the privilege of the person broken up with, but we’re wrong.
Here’s how shitty breakups can also go:
You don’t fall out of love with them.
You just suddenly realized they didn’t truly, for reals, love you.
So you fold.
And they let you.
And that feeling right there — the realization that it’s all bullshit? That shit is just as bad if not worse than being left.
And yeah, yeah it sucks being left. It hurts. And maybe I shouldn’t talk, because I’ve never been dumped, but from my standpoint, I’d rather be dumped than be lied to day in and day out. Because I think this is worse than being dumped. Waking up next to someone who smiles and tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses you on the forehead while they spew big words like “I love you” but doing just enough to keep you around, just enough so that you one day realize, like some fucking ice-bucket challenge, that it’s all some bullshit lie.
Yo. Message to the other side: if your ex is hanging out with you, or still in contact with you, and you still have feelings for them, mothafuckin try. Try or you’re obviously lying — to yourself and to them. And that’s worse than walking. So just fuckin walk.
Being dumped is hard. But breaking up with someone only to realize they didn’t really care, and were faking it all along? That sucks too.
Here are some of the worst things you might see only after breaking up:
Going to get Indian food with your ex, with whom you’re trying to reconcile things, and them not even realizing you’re crying as you walk down the sidewalk with them.
You wanting to talk about the breakup and they say, “it’s okay — I’m over it.” Not the relationship, mind you. Just, being dumped. Like, they’re all good to fucking go and ready to get back together like nothing happened and your feelings were some whirlwind accident that’s not worth exploring.
They tell you they “miss you,” and your heart claws its way up into your throat and for a second you’re lost but then, by sheer luck, you’re smart enough to clarify, “what do you mean by that?” and they answer, “I mean… I still fantasize about your pussy.”
You’re moving your shit out of their apartment afterwards and they’re suddenly bizarrely nice — not because they care, or are heartbroken, or even — god forbid — are remorseful or sorry for whatever they did to fuck you over enough to leave. No, they’re suddenly overtly nice simply and solely because they want you to “remember them in a positive light.” And you know this for a fact because they fucking say it. Multiple times.
You ask them, “why do you love me?” and they look you in the eye and answer, “because you’re beautiful.”
That shit is the shit you finally see.
Being heartbroken happens on both end — being left actively, and being left passively. When they only cared about themselves, but tried to pass it off as “love.” To you and themselves alike.
We deserve better than this, my darlings
We do. I deserve better, and you deserve better — we all deserve better than dumping our emotions into someone who puts on airs and charades of caring about us only to look us in the eye in the moment of real need and saying, “nah, I’m aiight — I don’t really care.”
We all deserve someone who does. Being truly cared about is more important than pseudo-care and not being left.