The End of the Begining

I blame the classic John Cusack movies. I cursed them that day. The scene where the pathetic guy stays up all night trying not to cry, wondering if he should just get in the car and go fight for her. At six a.m., as the Southern California sun starts to rise, the loser finally gets up the nerve and drives an hour to her campus. Tracy Chapman's "The Promise" is probably playing on the fucking radio.

Yet there I was, staring at my own white knuckles as I sped down the 101, trying to figure out when I turned into a living, breathing cliché.

It was over. Oh, I knew it was over... deep in my gut’s brain. Kind of like when bees know their hive has been moved. Even so, I couldn’t help but speed towards her. Before I knew it, I was standing outside of her dorm, looking up at her window (Cusack would be so proud.)

I only had a few minutes before I had to get back on the road and face another work day. No time for pussyfooting; I needed to find my courage and knock on the door. Why was I so terrified of the girl I dated for six and a half years? And why was it taking her 20 years to answer the door? Holy shit, was she with another guy already? I pictured her shoving a tall (of course he would be fucking tall) shaggy-haired dude in boxers and sagging tube socks into a closet, frantically warning him not to make a sound.

I shook my head in hopes that I'd somehow physically shake the vision loose. Thoughts like that are deadly.

“Oh. Hi.” Lynn wiped the sleep from her eyes and motioned for me to come in.

I hated that I couldn’t just throw my arms around her. Instead, I felt like she wanted me as far from her as possible. I assumed an awkward part-sit/part-lean/part-stand position by her desk.

I cleared my throat and stammered, "Well, I guess there's no easy way to ask this... but... have you made a decision? About us?"

She flinched. "I told you I needed more time to think."

"How long am I supposed to just sit and wait? Do you have any idea what that does to someone?"

"I'm not sure what to say..." she spoke softly. I knew from that sentence that she didn’t need to say anything at all. I knew what she wanted. That’s what this crazy drive here was about, after all… to confirm what I already knew deep inside.

"Forget it, you've said enough." I could feel my cheeks flush. This was humiliating. The girl that sat across from me was a complete stranger. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had to get out of there.

“I probably should be taking off now.”

She nodded and didn’t look at me.

I swallowed hard and scratched my elbow; an act I do when I’m extremely uncomfortable. I stuffed my car keys in my pocket.

I was almost out the door when I had an overwhelming urge to not let go. As hurt as I was, I had to have just one more moment with her. “Am I allowed to hug you?” I asked.

She had done a good job not crying up until this point. Her bottom lip quivered briefly before it twisted into a sad frown and she answered my question by reaching out her arms and nodding. I’ll admit, I wasn’t able to hold back myself. My tears created a dark maroon blotch her shoulder of her ratty red tee-shirt.

My six year relationship was over.

Back in my car, making my way back to LA, I had a terrifying revelation: For the first time since I was 17, I was officially single. I chuckled in disbelief as I realized the shit of my situation... my last real "date" was taking a girl in braces to see that terrible Keanu Reeves movie, "The Watchman." (Remember it? Of course you don't.) So now I am 24 and have had one partner and one experience and zero clues about where to go from here.

Starting this whole thing over again… at 24. Son of a bitch.