Things between Robbie and me have finally come to what seems like a genuine end, right in time for the most ridiculously hyped romantic holiday of the year.  But I’m not feeling sad now.  Instead, I’m feeling like I ought to give thanks.

When Robbie was here over Thanksgiving, we broke up.  We had agreed to spend the week he was here being good to each other and talking, lovingly, about whether we could see ourselves sorting out the major obstacles to our being a couple.  And we did that.  We had a wonderful time, the best time we’d had in months.  We were affectionate and good to each other.  We identified our problems and for many of them, we found solutions.  But by the end of the trip, we’d both started to feel glum about our prospects, and finally, Robbie decided that it was time for us to part.  We said goodbye at the airport, lovingly and well.  And he asked me to spend the next few weeks thinking about all the things between us that were good, rather than recalling all our problems.

I did that then, to some extent, but mainly I put my energies into talking him into getting back together.  We did make up enough for the New Year’s visit, which was pretty disastrous.  And now I find us broken up, again because of Robbie’s decisiveness.  (I think he is probably doing the correct thing for both of us, for which I am not-so-secretly grateful to him.)  This time has been harder, with much more nastiness and hurt than we had at Thanksgiving.


But while we haven’t had the loving conversations, the laughter, the bittersweet tears, and the breathtaking breakup sex that we had over Thanksgiving, I am still trying to think of the good things about us.  It’s actually pretty easy to do.  There are many things I regret about our relationship–including my behavior for much of it–but there are things I will always cherish, and it’s worth putting some of them down, so I don’t forget them.

1.  We laughed, so very much.  I look back at the pages of this blog and I see so many things that were funny, and I realize I’ve captured perhaps .00001% of Robbie’s humor.  When he wanted to be, which was very often, he was lightness and whimsy and joy.  As I’ve said before, his smile was like the sun to me and being part of his circle of laughter was just golden.

2.  I learned what it means to open up to someone, to really share your whole self with him, and to dare to show him all of you.  It took well over a year, but I finally gave Robbie a chance to see the real me, and vice versa.  And that was a wonderful feeling.

3.  I learned what it meant to be loved.  Robbie loved me more than anyone else has.  He not only told me but showed me, again and again.  He followed through on his words at considerable cost to himself, repeatedly.  What was better was that I loved him back as fiercely and as loyally, to the extent that I could.  We helped each other through  many extraordinarily crappy events–some self-inflicted, others wildly and utterly unpredictable.  I was there when his father died, and I took care of two horses, two dogs, and a very rickety house while he and his family buried their dad.  I poured my heart and soul (and a whole lot of sweat) into his garden.  I gave him endless back rubs.  He moved me across the country, packing my boxes himself, and waited for me in hospitals after two life-threatening accidents.  He petted me and held me and cooked for me and pleased me.  We were partners, and we did for each other, and that was good.

4.  I dealt with boatloads of my own crap.  I am a rotten, flawed, imperfect human, as most of us are.  Robbie used to joke that I thought of myself as “Priscilla Perfect,” and it was true.  When we met, I thought I could do no relationship wrong.  After four years, I have the dubious honor of being thankful for the fact that I know I can be a royal bitch: temperamental, reactive, angry, and sometimes punitive.  I don’t want to treat loved ones this way for the rest of my life, and I have miles to go.  At least I’ve started.

5.  I learned about being a good parent from him.  Robbie has kids, and despite what he fears at times, he has been a good father to his kids.  I want kids, and want to be a good parent.  He never refused my many and endless requests to talk about kids or what the right thing to do for kids would be in a given situation; never withheld the benefit of his experience; and never, ever acted like the answers were pat or simple.

6.  I grew up.  This was partly because we spent four years together, and partly because Robbie is older than I am.  When I met Robbie, I was working at a job that had me spending most of my day with teenagers.  I felt very young–I was in my mid-30s but had the mindset of a teen myself.  Now, I feel like an adult, in a good way.  I know I’m not going to live forever and that that means there are opportunities I need to seize now.  I also understand that the one driving the bus of my life is me; no one else is making the decisions, and I’m the only one responsible for the direction I take.  That’s a pretty good thing to know when pushing 40.

7.  Together, we found kink.  Robbie and I had the most deviant, most satisfying, most intimate, wildest, most passionate, most transcendent sex I’ve had in my life.  And he always did tongue-fuck better than anyone else I’ve known.

My take on us, for now, is this: We didn’t break up because we didn’t love each other.  We broke up because we are 600 miles away from each other with no way to relocate right now and different priorities in our respective lives.  That is a tough thing to have happen.  If I could feel it fully it would hurt terribly, and I know it will before it gets better.

But it is good to remember all the good things, all these things and more.  Thank you, my dear, for them.  Always–until the wheel turns round again for us.