It's been almost six months since I broke up with the closest thing to the love of my life. It was a scary, awful decision to have to make. We had been together for four years, lived together for three and a half. It was more intense than most marriages I know. It broke up our home, split up our friends, and I miss my dog more than I am willing to admit.
I don't regret my decision. I do miss my best friend. It's just an awful feeling knowing that he will never be that to me again. Sure, someday, long down the road, we may be on speaking terms again, but he will never know me and I will never know him that way again.
It's crazy how after that amount of time and how in a town as small as Anchorage, nearly every place in town has some emotional connection to our relationship. I was driving past the Sears mall today, and started to think about the protest over the anniversary of the Iraq war when I tore over after a rehearsal to see him marching with hundreds of other people, parked my car, and he handed me a sign with a smile on his face. And not even half a mile down the road, was the bend in Northern Lights I was sobbing while driving after packing up some of my belongings and having him give me the engagement ring he had planned to give me for Valentine's Day.
I don't really know how to get over this. I know I made the right decision, I just don't know where to go next. Some days I feel fine. Some days I feel like I am going to die alone in my sad box apartment with the glow of my laptop to keep me company.
Everyone tells me I should get out and date more. I really have no idea how to do that. Before him, there were two other fairly long term relationships. I haven't been single since I was 20. And I find I am still making the same mistakes. Absence from this scene really did not make me any wiser about how to go about this.
Nor does hearing about how he still shaves his head.
