When breaking up is difficult.

You know, I’ve been through some rough breakups.  I’ve been dumped by guys who just decided to hit the eject button for some reason.  I’ve broken up with guys because they were controlling or cruel.  I’ve ended relationships because they were unhealthy in some way or even destructive.  At the beginning of this year, however, I broke up for what I found to be the hardest reason of all.

I broke up with a guy because I just didn’t see us as a good match.  We had hung out on a few different occasions, and they were enjoyable.  We usually ended up in bed together, and while we never had anal sex, we certainly got naked and enjoyed each others’ bodies.  The physical intimacy and closeness was pretty nifty.  In fact, if he had been interested in nothing more than a temporary "get together on occasion and fool around" type arrangement, I might have proposed it.  But after the first time we hung out and ended up cuddling and kissing in our underwear, he also told me that he felt I was "the one."  Granted, that kind of freaked me out right there.  There was a time in my life — mainly in my twenties — when I would allow myself to get that swept up so soon in a new dating situation.  But these days, I’m much more inclined to take things slowly.  And to be honest, as terrific as I think I am, I think anyone who’s ready to declare their undying love for me after spending no more than an hour with me is going way too fast and is being a bit scary.

And as we spent time together, I realized that there was no connection there beyond the physical stuff.  As highly enjoyable as that was, a serious, long-term relationship (or even a serious short-term one, for that matter) needs a broader foundation than that.  And since that’s what he was looking for, I decided to end it.  I figured it was that or hold onto him until someone more to my liking came along.  I’ve had guys do that to me, though.  I didn’t want to do that to someone else.  I think it’s cruel.

It wasn’t easy, though.  It meant giving up that sure thing, part of what I really did want.  I was just glad, though, that he didn’t try to talk me out of it.  As infatuated as he was, I was afraid that he’d try to convince me we could find a way to make things work (and okay, part of me wanted him to do that just to stroke my ego a little bit).  It would’ve made sticking to my guns even more difficult.  Especially since I didn’t want to make things painful for him.  He’s a pretty great guy, just not the one for me.  Seriously, if he had been another asshole, it would have been much easier for me to tell him to go to hell and be done with it.