Seth was going through the breakup of a lifetime. The sit on the couch, covered in caftans, crying to Celine Dion songs (trying to speak in French to keep up with her), online deliveries of Chocolate Cake and buffalo wings, impulse purchases on Amazon, daily trips to the store for boxes of tissues, endless texting of friends, scouring Facebook for old photos, watching Beaches on repeat kind of breakup.
Yeah. It was bad.
The kind of breakup you don't see coming. He had been with Jared for two years. They had shared everything (except chap stick and a toothbrush). He thought this one was going to last. He was sure of it. Jared was the one. He was so kind, so sweet. Nothing about him was bad. Then, one week ago, he had been called into the kitchen. And Jared shattered his heart into a million pieces.
Seth may have thrown some things. He may have grabbed up all the Oprah magazines he left around Jared's apartment. He may have taken the groceries with him that he just bought. He may have taken the Dirty Dancing movie poster off the wall. It was his anyway. He may have done a lot of things. Who knows?
Today was Sunday. Seth usually spent the weekends at Jared's house. Sunday was for the farmer's market. Today, though, it was lying on the couch, burning through all the seasons of Gilmore Girls on Netflix. He always thought he was Lorelai, but the more he thought about it, he was Sookie. The girl who everyone looked past. The girl who never got a second glance. The girl who everyone ignored. Maybe that wasn't what actually happened, but that's how he felt. He was always going to be the best friend. Yup. No other way around it. That's what was going to happen. Might as well accept that life now and move on.
Seth dropped the new to his mother yesterday. They were at dinner and she commented on how disastrous he looked. Mother's always know when you're in pain. And his mother had x-ray vision. True to form, she instantly went to hating Jared and cursing the day he was born.
I knew he was wrong for you.
He's a dog. He's dead to me.
I could kill him.
Forget him. You don't need him.
He's nothing. He's shit. He's dead.
Good riddance, I say. He wasn't even Jewish.
Seth appreciated the hate party, but it didn't do much to make him feel any better. This wasn't something you rebound from in one day. And even if all she said was true (which it was), he needed this time to be sad. He wasn't ready to move on. The tears would come.
Another year. Another guy. Another one who didn't work out. Another hope for something real that turned out to be wrong. Wishing a guy could work out. Wishing if it would finally be real. Running over every talk, every conversation, every missed chance, every wayward glance. Thinking where did it go wrong? Thinking what did I do? Was it because I hate his sister-in-law? Was it because I never liked brunch? What the hell was it?
Every breakup brings with it questions, doubts, over-thinking. Seth was an expert at this. In fact, he was becoming exceptionally good at it. 15 years of the wrong guy, the wrong time, the wrong moment, the wrong thing said. Yes, he certainly was an expert.