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Heartbreak | Dec 16 2002

About forty minutes ago I called M and broke up with her. (Yes, on the phone; I broke up with her on the phone.) Then I got up from my desk and washed some dishes. Before doing so, I put away the dishes in the dish rack. As I was placing a glass on the shelf, I noticed that one of my two mugs (that’s correct: I only own two mugs) was gross-looking, a subtle film having formed along the bottom. I took the mug down to wash it and in the process spotted a similar film along the bottom of the other mug. So I proceeded to wash both mugs, thoroughly scrubbing them with abrasive side of the scrubbie.

[An email just arrived from M. She has agreed to my proposal of no contact until after the holidays. She signed her email “be well, m,” which I dearly appreciate.]

I believe I set a record today for total amount of time spent with one’s forehead on one’s desk. I didn’t keep track, but I’m sure it was well over an hour. I would stay in that position for ten minutes or so, then realize what I was doing and pick my head up. Later I’d find myself with my head back on the desk, and pick it up again.

Yesterday, when things were at their worst, it occurred to me that if I could write an account of what was happening at that moment between me and M, an account consisting of nothing but our dialogue and some basic stage directions (“She runs to bathroom, shuts door. He follows, opens door, turns on light. She is standing there, bent over. He turns off light,” etc.), it would out-Bergman Bergman. Not that I’d ever want to write such a thing, or could.

After reading her email, I opened Internet Explorer and deleted the link to her website in my Favorites. Lord knows this won’t stop me from visiting her website; I’m just hoping that the time spent typing the url will give me a moment to reflect on what I am about to do.

We were together for thirty-two days. Aside from the times we were fucking or had just recently been fucking, it went badly—shockingly so.

Also I’m heartbroken.