A lot of people asked what went down between The American and I, so I have decided to write a quick post about my side of the story and move on.
First:
He had to leave the country. Rather than accept this fate, I had faith we could do the long distance. Rather than tell me no, he lead me to believe he wanted to try. But, I should have noticed he had fallen out of love slowly and coldly the way men do since January. I wanted so desperately for things to just find a way to work out. Even though I knew things weren't working.
Second:
He had completely stopped trying. I increased my efforts to try and balance this but rather it just came off as controlling and pushed him further away. I felt like I was losing him. I increased the romance to try and win him over, but this too pushed him away. I was desperate, and nothing sends a man packing faster than desperation. My desperation was furthered by him blaming me for our decreased level of intimacy. We were done.
Lastly:
We lost control. He wasn't happy and when he told me he didn't know how he felt I lost it. I pried him open with my pushy words and out poured his hostile emotions each word like a strategically targeted missle that ripped me to shreds. Rather than being the bigger person when he texted he wanted to be friends I did what all women do. I got angry. I forced him to take all his furniture (actually leaving me sans sofa to date). In the heat of anger, words were said that neither of us can go back on. He was ice cold. There was no changing his mind so I accepted his words and moved on.
It was a dead relationship trying to survive on my hope alone. It was a mess and it brought out the worst in him, and to an extent me. Break ups are messy and complicated and disasterous. Which is why I am off to Mexico...to get my groove back.
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