Unpacking my Baggage, Part 6

The months following my un-engagement were confusing at best. I'm sure anyone who's been through a major breakup will agree that it's similar to grieving the death of a loved one. For a while you're in shock, then you're angry, then you're just plain numb... 

I experienced all of these feelings and more, which is fine, except that Paris was still pursuing me heavily. In my (many) moments of weakness, I'd cave under his charming nuances, and before I knew it we became that on-again-off-again couple that I've always rolled my eyes at.

He would convince me that he'd changed, and in many ways he really had. I could tell that my leaving him (the first time) really opened his eyes to some of his ridiculousness. But every time we tried to get back together, little red flags would start flying all over my head and heart, and in a panic, I would end it. And then we'd start talking again. And then I'd end it. Again. Each time was more emotional and dramatic than the last. I was a wreck.

All this time, in the back of my mind was a sermon I'd heard a couple of years ago, from a pastor who was preaching on relationships. Two things he said stuck out to me often, in the form of the aforementioned red flags:

1) If you are one of those couples who go through huge ups and downs, are constantly breaking up and getting back together, you should end the relationship for good because that's never going to change.

2) If he makes you cry now, he will make you cry twenty years from now, and every year in between.

These things are so true, and yet it took a million and one times for me to get it through my thick head. In hindsight, I know that there are many reasons why I kept going back to him. The most base reason is because he really was soooo desirable. But also.... ugh, this is the first time I'm admitting this "out loud".... but I was afraid that if I let him go, he would move on with his life and forget all about me. And at the time, that was an unbearable thought.

It was when I finally came to terms with this that I knew I needed to end it. For good. And for real this time. My reasons for wanting him were purely selfish. That wasn't fair to me and it certainly wasn't fair to him. I was leading him on, essentially, out of my own insecure motives.

So finally, on a warm July evening, I told him that that we both needed to cut all ties completely so that the vicious cycle wouldn't continue to repeat itself. I told him that it was over. As in, over over.

And I haven't seen Paris since.