Curse of the 4th of July

My parents married on the 4th. I met “The Voice” on the 4th. He and I broke it off on the 4th. 

We tell ourselves lies to protect ourselves. Or so we tell ourselves. Or maybe it’s just easier to believe the lies. He admitted something I always knew, in a nut shell, he can’t get over my flaws. He admitted he was shallow, he is an asshole, and he is f*&ked up, but still doesn’t make it right. Yet, he wanted, as always, to keep the door open, but it’s too late. I said as much, “I’m sorry to hear that.” I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be with someone who is embarrassed of me. I feel numb, but I’ve made myself that way today. I haven’t cried today. I haven’t talked to anyone today. I just sat on the couch and watched a marathon of the “Real Housewives of New Jersey.” I felt nothing. I was enthralled in it, yet don’t really have any strong feelings about it. Just women being women, but with money, from Jersey. I don’t want to think about the work week ahead. The secret I have to hide about him because I’m ashamed. I only had one friend who was supportive of me and him anywhere, and that’s because she’s a romantic like myself. I told her what happened before we went to another friends for tacos and margaritas. I had to act happy. I can’t deal with “I told you so’s.” I can’t deal with pity looks. I can’t deal with other people calling him an asshole. Part of me is so hurt. Part of me is just sad. Part of me feels like I just lost one of my really good friends. Part of me knows even though I should be doing something more positive right now than getting numb and drinking red wine I should go for a walk or do yoga. The other part is allowing myself one day to grieve. One day to be numb. One day to be sad. At least I know that even though I am broken right now, I will eventually, and quicker than I think, dust myself off and piece myself back together again.


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