Since December, I had been deliberating the value of keeping our relationship. The outlook was fraught with cracks: a distractedness (on my part); dwindling conversation with nary a catalyst in sight (trust me, there are only so many ways you can say ‘Hello, how was your day? I miss you..’); a lack of near-to-mid term plans to be together; I guess overall a lack of conviction from both sides that we were ready, or willing, to sacrifice our lives to be together.
But being together is precisely what a relationship needs, even a long-distance one, ultimately. So we now find ourselves in this situation, breaking up not because we hate each other, or stopped caring for each other, but because we simply weren’t top priorities for each other. And because the gradual fallout revealed to us, unambiguously, how breaking up now is the logical and only thing to do.
We weren’t particularly happy or unhappy together, but if status quo were to remain, we’d never realize otherwise. Breaking up and releasing each other is a silent acknowledgment on both our sides that maybe happiness is waiting, elsewhere.
On my part, there was an added, and very rational, reason, which proved to be the swinging factor – money and lifestyle. The more money I make, the more of our vacation bill I footed. And the more I footed, the more aware I was of how painful it is to blow all that hard-earned cash on a few days of enjoyment. Or not. Most times, I didn’t even enjoy the vacations because I never got to see anything. I have gotten so sick of excess that I’d scream if anyone were to stick me in another 5-star resort.
Our entire relationship has been characterized by drama, from beginning to faux ends, and it seems slightly surreal that the real end turned out to be a most calm, unupsetting and unspectacular one.