After N dumped me, I cried for about two hours and then quickly got over it. It was around then that I discovered that I had little tolerance for romantic partners whom I perceived to be less intellectual than I was. The day after he broke up with me, I went to my job at the bookstore where we'd met, where I pretended like everything was okay, and I rearranged the Art and Architecture books -- the section had been my choice -- while keeping my eye out for N, who also worked at the bookstore, and had shifts that often overlapped with mine.
He came in. I smiled at him. I wanted him to know that it was okay, that I would never be angry, that hurt was something that I accepted as a part of interaction with other human beings, and even in the absence of other human beings, when I was alone. I wanted to say, Thank you for holding me while I was sick and feverish that one day, that day you held me until I fell asleep. Thank you for only having sex with me once, the first time since The Incident, in the apartment in which you were house-sitting, because I told you that I wasn't ready, thank you for not freaking out on me when I hid in the bathroom and cried. Thank you for being kind. Thank you for being kind. Thank you for being kind. We could all use more kindness.