The Break-Up
It's hard to know where to begin. You left me with the decision of breaking up with Jeb and running off into the wild woolly yonder with my cable knit sweaters. It seemed so clear at the time -- but alas, life is never quite as rosy (or clear) as it is in the bubble bath - what with all the foam and moisturizing and mood-altering fragrance it's a veritable dreamland.

So, I set off to have a talk with Jeb. I had the conversation all planned out. "Jeb, I need to talk to you." OK, he'd say. "First, I want you to know that I love you and I have loved loving you." He'd be silent here but definitely struck by my poise and perfume. "I don't know exactly why or how, but I've decided that it's time we called it quits." I figured there would be an awkward silence here. Then I'd say with a very Jennifer-Connolly-in-A Beautiful Mind-type wisdom and poignancy, "This has been a beautiful ride, but I think it's time for us to move on." At this moment would be the beginning of his questioning why, as well as possibly some sadness disguised as madness. (Angry mad, not crazy mad. Only women go nuts in arguments like this.)

Anyhoo, I was all set and ready to go in very appropriate break-up attire. Not too cutesy, not too stiff/professional. A balanced and stable blend of casual and chic. Blazers are always good for break-ups. Make-up was neutral with a bit of smoke in the eye. Hair, freshly blown-out. Nothing wrecks a girl's confidence like frizzed hair. Plus, when you walk away it needs to have a nice bounce for him to remember you by.

So I get to his house. A quick analysis of the setting and mood reveal that it is a break-up safe zone. There is no super-important athletic event on television, no boys are on their way over, no one in his family has died. (The latter always important to consider so as to insure that you don't look like a witch post-break-up.) We head out to the porch for a beer. It's a perfect fall evening. We sit in the rocking chairs, and I begin. Amazingly, it all goes pretty much as planned. I don't stutter, stammer or spit. I'm filled with emotion, but not emotional. I'm mature break-up girl and I'm really pretty proud of myself for reaching this point in my adult life.

I get to the part where "I think it's time for us to move on" and brace myself for mad-disguised-as-glad due to immense heartache. But instead, he smiles warmly, grabs the back of my neck, pulls me to him and kisses me on my forehead. "You're quite a girl," he says. Then he sits back in his rocker and smiles at me some more. There's a semi-awkward silence, and I mentally run through my script to make sure I did everything right. When I'm pretty sure I did, figure there's nothing left for me to do but smile back as sweetly as I can and stand up to leave. I look back at him once, and then turn to walk down the steps and to my car.

And while I feel confident that my hair had very good bounce and that my pooper looked adequately perky in my jeans, I have to say that the whole thing was very disconcerting. I'm "quite a girl"? What is that? Isn't he heartbroken? What's the matter with him? Doesn't he care at all that it's over? What, is this a welcome relief? Was he ready to move on too? Oh dear... how tragic! He was supposed to really be upset. This mature parting of ways is wretched. He should be mourning my absence. I'm a catch, did he not get the memo?

The whole thing had me in such a tizzy that I had no choice but to go home and get back into the bathtub and think this through. And as I soaked and thought, I realized something. It doesn't matter what he thinks. This decision was about me. It was about my independence and my life, and if I'm truly going to walk through this world as my own person, I can't look back and wonder what everyone thought along the way. (Though, I make no promises as to not noticing what they wore, particularly the girls.)

And so, I stand at the beginning of another chapter. Alone with my cable knit sweaters to get me through the day and a bubble bath to welcome me home at night. Life could be a lot worse. After all, I'm "quite a girl" and who knows what the future holds for such a soul.