"It's not you, it's me."

Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard those dreaded words as a relationship crumbled around you.  Raising my hand.  Ok, now raise your hand if you’ve ever believed those lines when they were uttered from the lips of your object of affection. 

*crickets chirping*

Ok, good.  I’m glad I’m not the only one.  Personally, those words have become a given in the majority of my encounters.  I’ve heard them so many times that a part of me really did believe for a while that something was wrong with me that caused the opposite sex to run for the hills whenever feelings began to creep closer and closer to the heart. 

But I've now learned that it’s not always the case.  Sometimes, and in my experience just one time, it was the truth. 

Although I didn’t have a very lengthy and drawn out relationship with the subject in question, for some reason beyond my control I fell completely head over heels for him in a short amount of time.  He was the first of the two guys who gave me those pitter patters.  It was a feeling I’d never known and a part of me did wonder if it could have turned into that dreaded L-word.   

I was his.  Completely.  Entirely.  Without question.

Our relationship was never centered around the physical aspect that all of our friends’ relationships did, but rather focused more on hanging out and having fun together.  We’d to weird stuff like go to the shooting range then head back to his house where we’d clean guns and watch football.  Don’t get me wrong, there were nights spent cuddled up watching movies, too, but I didn't care if the physical stuff happened or not -mainly I just needed to be next to him to chase that intoxicating high. 

Then, as soon as it seemed to start – it ended.  Out of the blue and all of the sudden on a Wednesday afternoon over the phone, my world that finally seemed to be coming together slipped right through my fingers.  I still hear his voice beginning to break and it moved me as I tried my best to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Rach, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you.  All of my life girls have told me this and I swore I'd never tell someone this,but I just want to be friends.  It’s not you, it’s me.”

As my jaw began to quiver, I knew the coming tears were inevitable. 

For the next year I would be hung up on him still, always going over details wondering what I could have done differently, and then maybe he would’ve stayed.  After the breakup he would speak to me and call just to ask how I was doing, just like a real friend does, but I wasn’t ready to be that.  I needed time and space.

Recently (and by “recently” I mean today), I learned something about him that I never would have suspected in a million years.  While this news came as a complete shock to me, a part of me sighed with relief as I looked back on the entire situation:  It really was him and not me. 

It  has now been two years since that night I laid sobbing on my bed, asking God why he was gone after I was so, so sure he was the person I'd spend my piece of forever with.  Looking back, I suppose it all makes sense.  Now I can only wish him the best in all he does and let him know that if he ever needs a friend to clean guns and watch football with, I’m his gal.