One last hurrah

Fine. Fine.

I made my decision. I decided to end it with The New Guy. I can't keep up the "I love you" charade but still be dating someone else. I love someone else. I can't also be casually seeing someone else. I thought we were doing the slow fade. I thought it was working perfectly. Nope.

So we met for drinks. I thought a public place and alcohol would steel me for breaking the news. I thought it would help. It just made it easier to have One Last Hurrah. We were talking, having good conversation, and finally, three drinks in and him wanting to leave (with me in tow), I had to fess up. Tell him the news. I got serious with someone. Someone who isn't you.

And he took it just fine. It was hard to say, because I like The New Guy. I do. It was hard to make the decision to end it. To just go with Love. (Who am I kidding? Love was always the clear winner.) So there I was: a little drunk and validating my decision, and he was listening but not really, too interested in the new boundaries of our relationship. Too interested in both of us being a little drunk and too used to the idea of me following him home. Me waking up in his bed. Me sitting on his couch. Us drinking coffee in the morning. Listening to records in his living room. Me trying to get on his cat's good side (there is no good side for all interested parties.). Too interested in the part where we are no longer what we were.