It's Not You, It's Me

“It’s not you, it’s me.” The words hurt worse than getting hit by a semi-truck on the freeway. I had heard those same words spoken more than any other person on the face of the earth. As we sat in the restaurant, I could feel the cold stares from the other tables. I rubbed my hands across my trembling legs. The ring in my pocket pierced my thigh, but all I felt was the blood gushing from my torn heart. 3 years of long dinners at expensive restaurants. 3 years of walks in the city park, dancing in the rain, and racing to the ice cream shop where we used to drink sodas after school. 3 years of “I love you,” down the drain all because of a lawyer named Clint.  

“Of course it is.” I replied coldly. Her mouth stood agape. I let out a sigh and shook my head.  

“What does that mean?” She asked. Her voice, usually soft, had taken a sharp 180 degree turn for the worst. I sat motionless for a second, unaware of the contorting of my face. I was fueled with utter disbelief.  

“What do you mean, ‘what does that mean?” I asked. Before she replied, I cut her off. “I have dedicated 3 years to this, whatever it was, and you have the audacity to give me the cheesiest line in the book. 3 years deserves more than, “it’s not you. It’s me”.” She stared at me in disgust and then laughed.  

“This isn’t easy for me! Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do?”  

“I would not break up with the man I love, for one.”  

“Well, that’s just it. I don’t love you.”  

My heart shattered and my breath got caught in my throat. The stares from the other tables became stronger. The whole restaurant was silent. Even the cellist put down her bow in disbelief. At that moment, the waiter approached our empty table with the stealth of a field mouse. The hawk at the other end of the table glared at him as he set down glasses of champagne. He retreated quickly into the kitchen. I grabbed my glass and took a large swig from it. So much for love.  

I slowly pulled the engagement ring out of my pocket and laid it on the table. Before she could realize what I was doing, I stood up and walked away. Physically, I walked out of the restaurant, but when I reached the door, I instantly knew that I was walking away from so much more. Growing up, people had always told me that when I was older, I would find a woman who made me feel strangely complete. Men don’t usually talk about things like that because it isn’t masculine enough, but my dad always told me that love doesn’t care about masculinity. It breaks everyone just the same. What a load of crap. Love isn’t what breaks people; people break people.  

What if the institution of love was set up by people who like hurting others? What if there was no such thing as love? Heartbreak after heartbreak teaches people that there is no such thing as love. Then, others step right in and tell them that love is real. The cycle repeats itself and repeats itself until a man is at a restaurant about to propose to his girlfriend. It pauses, like a murderer waiting for the right moment to kill, and then it strikes once more. “It’s not you, it’s me.” The first stab. “Put yourself in my shoes.” The second stab. “I don’t love you.” The final and fatal blow. I walked further down the street, lost in my thoughts. Marriage. What a stupid thing to want. Nobody talks about happy marriages, anyway. They harp on and on about fights and sleepless nights. But, no, everyone is supposed to fill their lives with this idea that a person is the only way to feel complete. I think it’s all a scam.  

When people speak of singleness, it’s almost pitiful. They glance sideways at restaurants toward the table for one in the corner, wondering if that poor soul will ever find love. They say how awful it makes them feel to see someone so lonely. Sometimes, they might even feel so bad for that person that they pay for the single’s meal. It gives them a bit of closure to know that they have changed this person’s tiny, lonely life with a ten-dollar bill.  

We spend time beyond belief questioning why so many people are alone without introspecting and asking why so many people end up divorced or in failed marriages. Is it possible that people enjoy loneliness and sorrow? What if single people aren’t lonely? What if this idea of being alone is their version of a utopia? Could it be that single people are the only ones who aren’t lonely?  

Relationships cause a co-dependence. It happened in all my previous ones. This woman wanted to hang all over me during dinner, strangling me to the point of my wishing for the sweet release of death. Another woman decided she wanted to move into my apartment without even asking me. No matter how much humans try to be our own individuals, our lives mesh into one. You go from being Mr. Green to Mr. And his better half, or Sam and Judy. It’s never just one person anymore. We receive questions such as, “Where’s your girl?” and it is frustrating. The moment a relationship begins, lives are changed forever. Whether I dated a woman for a week, proposed to the next woman after 2 years of being together, or even if I had been married for 65 years, partners imprint on one another.  

If my woman hates cheese, I begin to hate cheese. If she doesn’t like my shampoo, I change my shampoo. During relationships, we attempt to remember what it was like to be single, and nothing comes to mind. Our minds become so clouded that we don’t even remember what it was like to be a single person, an individual person. It isn’t until we leave a relationship that we truly feel lonely for the first time. No matter if the separation was due to a breakup or a death, humans instantly become lonely. The cycle of heartbreak becomes a straight line, seemingly endless. And in response to the loneliness and sorrow that we begin to feel, we immediately seek out the companionship of a different individual who, in all of my experience, will cause the cycle to begin all over again. “it’s not you, it’s me.” Stab one. “Put yourself in my shoes.” Stab two. “I don’t love you.” The final and fatal blow.  

Maybe singleness, the act of eating, living, and sleeping alone is the only way to be truly happy. Maybe it is the only way to forget about loneliness and sorrow. If you have no one to love, you have no one to cause hurt. Perhaps the single people sitting alone in all of the restaurants down the street are wishing that the rest of the world would find out what they are missing and find peace and happiness in loving themselves rather than relying on the superficial feelings of another person placed on us all by an institution that prides itself on causing pain and suffering.  

I smiled as I continued to walk toward my apartment. As I climbed the stairs, the heart-wrenching pain faded. I slid the key into my door and stepped into a new life. All I needed was to love myself and then I could truly find peace. Love and marriage, well, that was an institution that I would never have faith in again.