He Told Me I Was an Option, Just Not *the* Option
The breakup that deprogrammed my toxic romantic pattern
It’s a few days into the New Year and I am nauseated and pale, vibrating with a soon-to-be sated expectancy.
I am breaking up with someone.
“You are an option; you’re just not the option.”
Or, someone is breaking up with me.
I’m sitting in an emotionally claustrophobic apartment I was buzzed into without a greeting (a first) after fleetingly forgetting which floor to summon (a one-hundredth). I am trying to make the right amount of eye contact, and to keep away the right amount of tears, and not to snap or snip at this excuse or that one as we muddle through The Breakup Conversation.
This is the second year in a row that is beginning with an ending. This is the second ending, too, between this particular someone and I. But it’s the first time I’m hearing this particular goodbye:
“You are an option; you’re just not the option.”
I really liked this one.
I mean, I always do, but I thought this one might be The One.
My person. You know, the one whose half fills up my whole, whose path seems to entwine with mine.
