4 years, 8 months, and——something. It’s way too soon to do all this math.
For the past few years my girlfriend (sic) and I did all we could to get her to medical school. She’s now there. It was a torturous process for her, to say the least. She departed 9 days ago. And I was a total asshole, pardon my French.
For some reason, we never had a real conversation regarding how she was going to get from our apartment in The Bronx to JFK Airport, on the other side of Queens. It’s a lengthy trip by public transit and an expensive cab ride. But, you know, just one of those things.
She dismissed my going with her on that work night outright. Both times I brought up going to the ‘port with her she changed the subject after telling me her friend would most likely drive her. That is indeed what ended up happening. However, I had every intention of being at home with her after work when her friend arrived. I envisioned us spending a final few hours together in the evening and then helping bring her bags downstairs to load into her friend’s car.
Dammit. Why didn’t I just insist weeks before on us going together in a taxi? Why wasn’t I assertive about that? Although I really thought she would contact me to let me know her friend was coming to get her around 4:00 p.m., while I was still at school, I will take the blame for this since I really should’ve planned to go to the airport with her.
What is wrong with me? Years in the making, she was finally moving away to medical school–thousands of miles away–and I wasn’t going to go to the airport simply because she said her friend was driving her?? What the f—?!
Yes, I would’ve taken public transit back to The Bronx. Yes, that would’ve taken 2+ hours and I would’ve only gotten around 4 hours of sleep before heading off to work again. But who cares?? It’s one of those things.
This realization didn’t hit me until our conversation two nights ago. Then it hit like a ton of spooge. Knocked me the f— out. My disconnection from her at moment of departure brought other things, everything in fact, to a head. It may have been coming anyway but now it was going to hit, and hit hard.
She broke up with me.
Then reinforced that fact again in yesterday afternoon’s conversation. More isolated than ever, I type. My cat Charlie & I weep together.
These are lonely, dreadful times. And I can’t stop thinking what a gigantic prick I am.