that's all life is,

You replay.

You feel a little sad at the thought of a Giants/Patriots Super Bowl. You talked about that once; he always ragged on your team. You thought he would text after the Giants victory, discussing the upcoming game.

Nothing came.

You still look at your phone. Expectant. You think your phone is broken. You press on it a couple of times, make sure it’s working. Waiting each time it flashes red. You try to squelch the reflex of disappointment, but it comes up anyway, the way you can’t stop vomit. Sometimes you wish you could vomit out your feelings. Stop waiting for him to message you on gmail chat when he logs on. Remove the username, block, add back on. Put it back and force yourself to stop hiding. 

Want to e-mail him things. Want to send him this like the other heartfelt letter, the one that you sent when he pissed you off for not fighting harder. He wanted to meet that weekend, you declined, he asked when to meet, you said you weren’t sure and then finally said after the holidays; you never met.

Do nothing.

You wonder what would happen if you never met in English class. If you never made the first move. Would he have made the first move. Wonder some more. Want more answers. Want less answers. 

You delete the e-mails from flowers.com.

You listen to sad songs. Listen to strong songs. Turn on sad songs. Listen to Adele. Forget Adele. 

You wallow. Wallow some more. Can’t read things on love and relationships. It feels too soon. Everything feels too soon.

See trailers for Valentine’s day movies. For Valentine’s Day weekend. Cards. You love Valentine’s Day. You will still love Valentine’s Day. See couples on screen and off screen. Want hugs, one more kiss. More falling asleep together, waking up together. Miss the boy you originally dated.

Then wonder why you didn’t break up in your third month like you wanted to. Or on the second date when he held your hand in the movie. Or the eighth month. You kept wanting to break-up. You ignored your gut. But he was so nice. He was so kind those first few months. And he loved you. Sickness and in health; you actually thought. Sickness and in health. You were sick and too tired to add anything else. You loved him when he visited you in the hospital. For both surgeries.

When he was the first person you asked for, groggy. When he fed you ice chips. When he saw you without dentures. When you were scarred.

And cried when he said he’ll replace you, ill-timed, poor intent. You sat in the hospital bed and burst into tears. You both wondered when you would be replaced.

Feel worse.

You loved him when he helped you shower. When he stayed all day. When he took you home.

Feel sadder. Cry furiously for ten minutes and then move on. Read a book. Hang out with the cats. He was allergic. A feigned allergy really. He just never liked them. You need someone who likes cats. Who will want a cat in the home.

Listen to a mantra of you deserve better, this was for the best. More well-wishes. You talk to friends, they find you. You eat more donuts. This too will pass. Like the high school relationship passed, like the undergraduate one from college. They all passed. They left. Memories. You think of memories. They find you. 

Remember he refused to shave because he didn’t want to betray his buddies. Remember his shower habits. How he looked when he came out. His preoccupation with his hair.

Like the smell of his deodorant you still have in your bathroom cabinet. Like his t-shirt still in your drawer, the spare condom still buried somewhere there. The lingerie somewhere. The cards. The books he got you. The Harry Potter sketchbook for the anniversary. You’re still pissed about that. Why do you get a book for your one year anniversary? How romantic. The flowers you received, cards, notes. The sweaters he bought. You think about giving them away to your sister but they’re perfectly good sweaters. 

You keep his birthday present that came after the break-up. Sit it on your desk to keep your books from falling down. Wonder why you tried so hard to find it. Wonder why you tried so hard anyway.

You read old conversations. You can’t help it. Wonder how he was so nice then. Remember when he said he loves you on new year’s day. Realize the i love you’s got fewer as he went away. The conversations shorter, curt.

He told you he tried harder. Why don’t you feel he tried harder. If he tried harder, you would still be together.

Right. Is that rhetorical. Yes.

Remember Dunkin Donuts, restaurants, cafes, lunches, dinners, breakfasts, coffees. Doctor’s appointments. Domestic. You cry more. You think of the trip to Atlantic City he booked. The movies. Nights in, nights out. Bowling. Hugs. English class. The iPod screen casing.

You visited his dorm the past couple of times and no longer wanted to be there. He was impolite. No longer said please and thank you. Kept leaving, and coming back. Barely talking. 

You cried. He never understood why. He wrote you a note. It never felt like enough but it got you to stay. If it hadn’t snowed, you would have left. Sometimes you wish it never snowed that afternoon.

The first visit, he teared when you left. The last visit, barely a wave. He complained about the barbecue wings. 

He complained, you complained, both complained. You realize you were making most of the sacrifices as he said. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. His friends are assholes. You were unwelcome.

The sex wasn’t amazing towards the end. You never synced. 

Feel better. You want an amazing sex life.

It never would have worked out. He has a family you can never meet, religion is always going to be a barrier. You can’t even attend his sister’s wedding.

His family doesn’t even know.

You’re pretty sure your mother hated him. Pretty sure he didn’t like your family.

He was quick to point out flaws in you but resistant to his flaws. Sometimes he made you feel small. Smaller than your tiny height. He took advantage sometimes. You were sick so often and he didn’t always help lighten it.

Someone kept saying there’ll be more boys but you never believed them. You wanted this relationship. You realize it’s good you didn’t have this relationship. Choose to be happy. Wonderful.

You reassure yourself there was nothing more that could be done. Every day of the past four months loops like a bad movie, a bad sitcom. You wonder what words and sentences should have been altered to change the outcome. What could have been done. Were you not nice enough? What changed with you in the last four months.

You realize the outcome would never have changed. People change. Grow up. Move on. For the best. It hurts now but it’ll be better. 

You stop making excuses. He just didn’t want to. He offered platitudes when you ended the relationship. I hope you find someone better than me, I’ll regret this for a long long time, maybe I could even win you back someday. He said it was a punch in the gut. Misses you more than you know.

You don’t know how much he misses you. He’s never mentioned it.

Get angry when he says you would have kicked him out if he showed up at your door. You know you wouldn’t have. He should know.

He didn’t offer to resolve things, to press. You cannot fix a relationship with pretty words. You need intent.

You check his Facebook once every hour versus every half hour. Consider that progress.

See a girl posted on his wall. Feel jealous. Remember that when he walked you to the train station, he turned instead of saying hello to her. Wonder if he slept with her. Wonder if he cheated.

Feel worse again.

Try to believe he was faithful. Hopeful.

You drink a cup of tea, you go to work, you go for a walk. You take a nap, go to bed. Sleep. Drink more tea. Work more. Make plans to get drunk, make plans to be happy. Be sociable. You eat more smarties. 

Think he’s not coming back. Think you’re not coming back. You believe it. You hope he doesn’t text or call or e-mail. You want to move past square one. Maybe you’re on square three. You wonder what the squares are.

Miss when he kissed your forehead. When you ran in the rain to the doctor’s appointment. Realize you’re allowed to miss certain things. Go to bed, wake up. It’s Tuesday. More than a month has passed. Keep busy.

Get annoyed when strangers find you to ask you out. If they were cuter, you would consider it. But they’re not cute and you’re convinced both are creepy. Feel okay at the thought of a date. Feel hopeful your time will come.

You write. Ignore the ache. Wish there was another tissue around. A cat to hug. Feel your chest tighten more. Know things can be okay. 

You cry now but you’ll laugh later.