Nice Chatting with You... Not.

A wise person once advised me, in a break-up situation, not to speak or have contact with one's former beloved for at least a year.

I can understand the wisdom behind the idea: Out of sight, out of mind; time heals all wounds; absence makes the heart grow fond--err... nevermind the last one.

For me it's always been hard to stop communication, especially with the invention of cell phones and the resulting "drunk dial" or, more accurately, "drunk text" (even MORE dangerous). I'm a second-guesser and what-if?-er by nature, which does not lend itself to clean breakups. Plus I romanticize everything after the fact. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I really, really suck at being an ex-girlfriend.

After a certain spiraling climatic crash of self-induced ex-boyfriend mayhem this year (which none of you knew about, but I am now confessing), I grew sick of it; sick to my stomach, and out of rope with which to pull and be pulled around. I no longer craved the secret late-night phone calls and visits; nor did I desire affirmation from a past lover that I was still attractive and intelligent and lovable.

I had reached the absolute lowest point--that ground zero of dating where the only way to go is up; and the only way to get there is on your own. It was a slow and exhausting liberation.

And from there, it was easier to stop speaking than I thought it would be.

And much harder to start up again.