“No, I never want to speak to you again. Yes, I think about you on your birthday.”
What? When I first came across this quote on a Pinterest post, I had to reread it a few times. At first I kind of resonated with my mentally paraphrased “f*ck you but I hope you’re fine” moment, but now I can’t stop thinking about it.
For some context, I dated my childhood best friend for a long time. We knew each other since preschool, our parents were friends, our dads worked together for a time. We were practically inseparable, and our small-town community was constantly talking about how “meant to be” we were. We started seriously dating in high school, worked at the same place, were both in band…and it was good.
The kicker came after graduation. I was certain about going to college out of state and we had been preparing to go long-distance for a while. I cannot tell you precisely what happened, but he stopped texting. The replies got slower and slower. I made a Discord account just to video call him. I set up a Netflix Party just to show him movies, and he wouldn’t join. I would tell him over and over that I needed him to uphold his part of the relationship, and it was always met with crocodile tears and, “Sorry I’m such a shitty person.” I don’t know why my guard didn’t go up right then and there, but I let it slide two or three more times. He refused to see me. I had to travel back to my home in Colorado a few times and always offered to see him, but he’d never figure it out. There are plenty more reasons I should’ve left him before it all came crashing down, but eventually I just couldn’t keep holding a relationship together by myself.
It’s been almost a year since we broke up. Even that was incredibly underwhelming, but left me with a cruel sense of relief. He agreed we could stay friends but didn’t stick with it. The last time we spoke was a few bitter, sarcastic words about being single on Valentine’s Day. A few months later, I deleted his number unceremoniously. I donated his hoodies to Goodwill. I deleted his favorite songs from my playlists. I “moved on.” I wanted to be over my ex, just like everyone else. I even downloaded Tinder to pass the time. Everything felt fine, and then this random text post screwed up everything. I had never once considered this outlook. I was so hurt and my hindsight was so clear and revealing that I had never realized that I could… stop caring. I’ll admit it: sometimes I wish I’d sent him one last text with words sharp as knives to remind him how horrible he made me feel. There are also times where I think, “I’d be fine if we never saw each other again, but I’m still friends with your mom on Facebook.” It felt very paradoxical, but now I’m just coming to terms with the fact that shit happens. Good relationships go bad. Best friends never talk again. Lovers to strangers. It happens, and it’s fine. I’ll be the first one to tell you that sometimes it’s just not worth your time. If you can break things off amicably, that’s great. If it’s messy, I’m sorry. Breakups suck.
You don’t have to keep caring. This person was important to you and now it’s weird. I’m sorry it happens and I know how you feel, but you’ll be okay. You can think about your ex on their birthday without missing them; that song doesn’t elicit the same emotions, and that hoodie is…just a hoodie. Your ex is just a person, and you don’t owe them any of your time or feelings anymore.