The irony of being dumped whilst watching a girl get dumped during The Bachelor season finale? Wow. How many can claim such a surreal experience?! How few, that is. And as of tonight, the latest item on the long lists of reasons I am special.
As much as it might displease some of you, I won’t be talking smack on this hallowed space about the dude who dumped me. I think he’s pretty fantastic and I wish good things for him. But a solid hard-earned center, girlfriends and blogs are such good things to return to. I am already imagining the streams of validating comments that are gonna come pouring in in response to this post. Wow! Thanks. Even if he didn’t, you guys and dolls out there love me. That’s worth a lot!
So in the solo car ride back home to Bank Street, here’s what I’m saying to that vulturous limo cam amid my sniffles: I don’t regret it. I learned I can put myself out there. And when my worst fear is realized: rejection and abandonment, I don’t crumble. I can deal! Sure, I cried a lot of tears the past 3 days and there may be a couple more. But fundamentally I’ll be fine. Now I’m closer to knowing what I want (and don’t want). What I can (and can’t) handle. Also, a fairly clean break after 4 months is, on the breakup spectrum, not that terrible. So don’t cry for me Argentina, or Chris Harrison. But if you are inclined to show me some chin up love, I wouldn’t mind it at all.