Fittingly, the day after a post goes up about dating an Arab, I break up with that Arab.
It’s been about a week now. (About means exactly. Exactly just sounds too scientific for a blog.) I go through moments of time where I’m determined to live the Best Life and do the Best Things for Me Me Me. Then I go through moments of time where I Sit On My Widow Still and Stare Dramatically and have Deep Thoughts about What It All Means.
Do the capitals showcase how cliche it all is?
I broke up with him, if you must know. But I did it because I could tell that he wasn’t really “into it” anymore, not because I wasn’t “into it.” He didn’t want to please me or make me happy. Which is a sure sign that he’s just not that into me. We’d been fighting for months, mostly about how he didn’t want to please me or make me happy or be that into me. I was extremely transparent about what I wanted and how he wasn’t doing it. He didn’t seem to care.
Then, he asked for “one more chance” and I gave it and he fucked it up royally, just like all the others before it. So I said “last straw, the end, khallas.” (Khallas is Arabic for “it’s finished, done, the end.” It’s much more effective than any English equivalent, once you learn it.)
He’s still asking for one more chance. And I never wanted to be done with him in the first place, so of course I want to give him a thousand more chances. But is that really the best idea? Am I really going to do that for the rest of my life? Is our relationship just going to be him shitting on me, and me yelling and screaming and ranting about it, but then yet again giving him yet another chance to yet again try to do better, forever and ever? Shouldn’t it be easier than all that? Shouldn’t there be progress of some sort? Shouldn’t cycles end?
Spoiler alert: They don’t.
TL;DR: Life goes on, obadi obada.