Woke up single today. I mean, technically I woke up alone yesterday too but yesterday was valentine’s so it would’ve been tragic if I wasn’t with someone. And I was. A good one. Nice guy. Sweet. Makes tea the right way, laughs at my dumb jokes. Calls when he says he will. Doesn’t cheat. All the boring “good boyfriend” stuff. And yet. Somehow. I’m awake today, single, and it’s fine.
Valentine’s hit me like a wall anyway. Every reel screaming “where’s your boyfriend” and me rolling my eyes but also… counting. Yes, I was counting. Counting the 14th like some lunatic.
Maybe I wanted flowers, maybe I didn’t. Maybe I wanted my boyfriend to show up at my door like in the movies I hate but secretly love. Maybe I’m pathetic.
He’s younger than me. Still figuring life out. And that’s fine. Really. But I want… I don’t even know. A man who doesn’t have to think about whether he’s enough. Someone who is. And him. He’s not there yet. Can’t be. I’ve stayed because I was healing. Because after my last disaster (serial cheater, lmfao), being chosen felt like therapy. Like if he looked at me enough, maybe my broken parts would fit.
And he tried. Always tried. But I kept thinking about alignment. Timing. Energy. Like somehow I’m a math problem.
So yesterday I laughed. Accepted the small gift. Maybe it was chocolate? Roses? I don’t remember. Tried not to cry when he asked if I was happy. Dangerous question. My answer was yes. Partial yes. Incomplete yes. Lying yes.
And then today, single. No argument, no fight, no dramatic scene. Just me telling him he deserves someone fully present. I’m not fully present. Good guy, wrong time. He looked confused. Hurt actually and God-help-me, I wanted to backtrack, I almost did. But then no. No. I’ve backtracked before. Stayed in relationships like I’m assembling a puzzle with pieces that aren’t mine. Not again.
So here I am, realizing… maybe self-love is weirdly violent. Choosing yourself over someone else’s heart. Choosing uncertainty over comfort. Choosing to wake up empty-handed but full in a way.
I keep thinking about that question: who do you love first? It sounds like the answer should be obvious. Yourself, duh. But loving yourself first is not cute. It’s awkward. It’s breaking something good because it’s not right. It’s staring at your reflection and thinking, yeah… I deserve clarity more than company.
So valentine’s this year? I broke up with someone even though that meant choosing myself first, it was also better than keeping a good man to myself when there could be something better out there for him and for me.
lol.
And I laugh because of course, peak timing. Peak irony. Peak me.