#RelationshipGoals: The Breakup That Doesn’t End
There I was, hiding out from the rain on a beautiful beach in Martinique, crying. I was sad because my boyfriend, who I thought had died the day before, answered my call and proceeded to ignore me to answer purposeless questions a stranger had about where he was from.
After I hung up with Andrew, I tried to enjoy my time with my friends. “I really do hope you’re done with this man,” my best friend Corey said to me after I hung up, disappointed.
“Me too,” I said more to myself than to him. There were just so many dueling emotions happening inside my heart and head. I could not believe that man took me through that and then had no urgency in checking in to at least inform me of what happened.
By the time I got home from Martinique, I considered us to be over. I didn’t hear from Andrew again until a couple of days later. Even during that conversation Andrew wasn’t having it. “You got me f*cked up!” was the phrase he used. He sounded like he was joking, but he was serious. “You really want to be done with me?”
“I just don’t know where I am in this relationship,” I said, trying to explain it to myself more than I explained it to him. “I still have no idea what happened when you died. I just feel alone in this thing. You haven’t been here. I’m the only one traveling between us. When you come here, you can stay at my apartment, but when I come, we have to get a hotel and you never foot the bill. I just don’t think I’m in this anymore. I haven’t been.”
I knew I hadn’t been. I’d gone on dates and had even been intimate with someone else. I’d been done with Andrew since my vacation in Martinique, but I hadn’t committed to letting him go because I don’t know, love? My screwed up idea of what loyalty was? I still don’t know.
I started to create distance between me and Andrew. I stopped answering his rare calls or texts. I wanted him to understand it was over. Every once in awhile, he’d try and strike up a conversation in Instagram DMs or texts. I blocked him on Instagram. On the rare occasion that I’d answer his messages, we’d get into back and forth arguments that would often end with either one of us telling the other to go away forever. It would never be forever.
Since I blocked him, I would use my finsta to see what he was up to. One of those days I was checking up him, I saw that he was in New York City. I couldn’t even believe it. What was he doing in my city and why hadn’t he even hit me to let me know? This is the stuff I was mad about when we were together. He’d always leave out important details and I’d be in the dark about everything. That next month, I was headed to Paris for vacation. I booked the ticket to depart from Newark because it was a cheaper option, but getting to the Newark airport was not something I was looking forward to. Andrew hit me up a week before and I decided to respond to see if he was still in town and willing to take me to the airport. I had it in my head that whatever our relationship was at that point, I’d keep him at arm’s length and use him.
Andrew responded almost immediately, “D! What’s up? I’ve been thinking about you. You good?”
I smiled. I’d been petty and tried to ignore him and here he was being all responsive and thoughtful. No! I told myself. Don’t fall for it. Get your ride and get out. “I’m good Andrew. Yourself? I see you’re in New York City these days. You moved or something?”
“I did. I been hitting you so I could tell you that. I’m doing my thing here with my music, linking up with producers. It’s been a good time.” Andrew typed to me in more detail than he ever gave me when he and I were together.
“Somehow I’ve been missing those messages,” I tried to be short. The same way he used to be.
“You good D? We good?”
I asked Andrew for the ride to the airport and he obliged. He showed up to pick up me and my homegirl Jen. She was irritated because it was an international flight and Andrew was late. By the time he showed up, he had to reorganize because he had a million things in his trunk and that took up more time, leaving us with an unrealistic window to get to the airport and check in on time.
As we raced to the airport, Andrew looked me up and down in traffic and at red lights. In all the anxiety Jen was giving me about getting there, I’d forgotten that I hadn’t seen Andrew in almost a year. He looked good, smelled even better, and smiled at me slow like he always did, exposing his bottom grill. He knows I loved that stupid thing.
Andrew grabbed my hand, “What’s up babe?”
“You should really concentrate on getting us there. We’re late!” Jen said.
“You’re gonna get there sweetheart. If not, I’ll pay for you a new ticket,” Andrew said, still smiling at me and holding my hand.
I smiled. Jen sighed. Andrew licked his lips and smiled back at me. We missed our exit.
“That’s our exit!” Jen screamed. “See, this is what I’m talking about! I swear we better not miss this flight!”
We didn’t miss our flight. In fact, we made it with time to spare because the flight was delayed. The whole time I was in Paris, I kept in touch with Andrew. My mom was having major surgery while I was away and he was the shoulder I leaned on. He promised to pick Jen and I from the airport when we came back from Paris. Because of the time zones, I mixed up the days and once I landed, I realized and tried to get Andrew to still come. He couldn’t but said he’d send a Lyft. It didn’t take Jen and me a long time to get through customs, but long enough for Andrew to call or schedule the Lyft so that we didn’t have to wait.
After about 45 minutes and going back and forth with Andrew via text about the ride, Jen gave up and made her own way home without me. She used public transportation and I was just too tired to make the attempt, so I sat, waited, and trusted that Andrew would actually come through. Finally, a message from Andrew came through, “I had to get my secretary to do it.”
A secretary? I had so many questions, but I didn’t want to waste more time with my inquiries about his business. “OK share it with me so I can see where the car is and I’ll have all the information,” I requested. Of course he didn’t share it. I messaged him again, “What kind of car? What’s the license plate? What’s the name, so I know?”
He responded with the type of car. “What’s the name?” I asked again. No response.
The car finally pulled up and I walked over to it, wanting to know if it was the right car. The driver got out. “I am so sorry. I couldn’t find you and then you didn’t pick up the phone. Jelissa, right”
“Going where?” I asked because I wasn’t sure because Andrew still hadn’t given me the name.’’
“Brooklyn,” he offered.
“Ok, yeah,” I got in the car and messaged Andrew. “Tell Jelissa I said thank you.”
He replied, “She said you’re welcome.” He shared a screenshot of his message to Jelissa with her name as “Secretary” and her number blocked out. I could see where they were talking about her Lyft account before he shared my gratitude with her. The nerve of him. I don’t know why that whole scenario irritated me, but it did.
“So when can I see you?” Andrew asked.
I know I’m not alone with having that lingering breakup that never ends. Whether it’s the chemistry, the memories or just the sex, whatever it is, sometimes there’s those breakups that won’t stop. Have you ever dealt with a breakup that wouldn’t end?