The End.

Hey, do you remember when the cute neighbor became the first actual boyfriend any of us had while writing WWBD? Well now he has the honor of becoming the first actual ex-boyfriend we've acquired while writing WWBD? He must feel so honored!

Yes, it's over. Finished. Finito. The End.

It started on Friday. I was getting increasingly frustrated with the cute neighbor over the fact that he was dragging his feet on making plans to see each other in August. Up to that point, I had done everything, but he still couldn't come up with dates for our little rendezvous. If he wants to see me, he best be putting some effort into it too. I called him to tell him just this. I told him it made me feel like he didn't want to see me, and that I felt like I was inconveniencing him when I brought it up. He apologized. Then I don't really remember what was said, but in the midst of me looking up plane tickets to visit him, we somehow got into another argument and he asked me what I was hoping to accomplish with this visit. I told him I just wanted to see him, to which he responded that it seemed that I was trying to make a long-distance relationship work and that's not what he wanted. Huh. That horrible feeling in my stomach? That was the suckerpunch.

I tried to process this information. I know we had always said that we would just see what happened until he left Atlanta, but I definitely missed the part where we broke up. Because in my eyes, I thought things were going quite well when he left, and that little part where he told me he would do the best he could to arrange his summer travel plans to come visit me? Very silly of me to think that meant anything. If he was so dead set against it, why didn't he just say "It's been fun!" and leave me alone? He dropped this on me while he was in a noisy pub waiting for a ride to go away for the weekend. I was about to meet some friends to go to a baseball game. Supremely bad timing. (But I sadly can't blame him for that, since I'm the one that called him to tell him I was pissed off at him.) He told me he'd call on Sunday and we hung up. I stared at the phone. What the fuck just happened? Then the tears started. No, not tears. SOBS. Hugs, from-the-gut sobs that made it difficult to breathe. Just moments ago I thought I would be purchasing a plane ticket to actually see him soon, and now I've just been dumped?

I called Grayer and sobbed the story to her. She encouraged me to go to the baseball game, because if I didn't, I would just sit at home and cry, and at least this way I could have some fun. She was right of course, and I did enjoy myself, but the minute I got back in my car after leaving my friends, the sobs started again. I had to sit there for several minutes to compose myself. I was not successful, and probably should have waited longer, as I was still in no shape to drive. I even got honked at.

In the morning, I got up early and went for a run, which always works. Not this time. I barely managed to stay composed during my run, and the minute I got to the safety of my porch, the sobs came again. The rest of the morning went like that. I kind of wanted my mom.

My roommate texted me from work to tell me we were going to go out that night for dinner and drinks, no excuses. I decided that gave me plenty of time to pull myself together. In the early afternoon, the 23-year-old baby-child subletting the apartment downstairs asked if I wanted to come down for a beer. I did. It was a good distraction, and then we watched the first part of the 7th Harry Potter so he could go with me to see it Sunday. I was feeling better already.

Baby-child joined us for dinner, where after a few margaritas we decided to head to the most notorious strip-club in town, famous for employing strippers who qualify for social security. It will actually make you feel pretty good about your own naked body. It also doubles as a dance club on Saturday nights, and that's what we were looking for. With all the drinks and the dancing, baby-child was getting a little handsy and flirty, and I thought, "I can totally do this. I've still got it."

Sunday we went to see Harry Potter. It was good to cry over something that had nothing to do with the cute neighbor. At one point, I noticed baby-child's arm was draped across the back of my seat. He also paid for my ticket. I felt a little like I was 16 again. Then we went home to watch the Women's World Cup final. Major disappointment. Then baby-child left and I was just left waiting for the cute neighbor to call and make things official.

We delayed the inevitable by talking about our weekends. After stalling as long as we could, we got down to business. I'm not going to recount the conversation, but here are the heart-breaking highlights:

1. I clearly misunderstood that "wait to see what happens when I leave Atlanta" actually means "we'll date until I leave Atlanta, but we're not going any further than that." Obviously, I knew that was a possibility, but I guess I also thought there was a possibility that we would continue. Silly me.

2. I was always more into this relationship than he was. This came up when I asked him why he bothered to talk to me after he moved. He told me that I was doing all the calling. I can safely say that he definitely called me as well.

3. Even if we weren't moving to opposite continents, we would have the same outcome. It just wasn't going to work.

This time the sobbing started the moment I hung up the phone. (And it was an accomplishment to hold off that long.) I feel stupid. Seriously stupid. Did I really know this all along and just wanted it to work so badly that I ignored it? I knew that it was a longshot in the long-term, but I also figured I had nothing to lose. I wasn't going to want to start dating someone new before I left, so why not enjoy spending time with someone I could learn from and have fun with? Apparently there was more at stake than I knew.

It hurts. I feel like I've been tried on, found lacking, and thrown back into the pile. Despite bracing myself for it, now it's official. I feel officially unwanted. I know it sounds dramatic, but there's no question that I've spilled more tears for him than any other man in my life. In fact, I don't think I've spilled this many tears over all the others combined. And it's just the beginning.