Even during the break-up conversation John was endearing, at one time reciting a Langston Hughes poem about chance and possibility, and later, after I'd said I should leave, he walked to my side of the table, put his arms around me and stayed there, only after a minute or two, saying matter of factly, "Ok, I need to weep now."

All of which made it harder than I thought it would be. I shed a few tears inside his house, but by the time my ass touched the seat of my car, I was crying hard.

Yesterday, he'd suggested plans for tonight: make dinner, watch a movie at my house, stay over. But this morning, I woke up with another man in my bed (we didn't have sex). I watched Jose sleep as the sun broke over his shoulder and torso, and it occurred to me that the fact that I'd let him sleep over at all, innocent as it was, was evidence enough that I'd made a choice, and it wasn't staying with John. If I let him come over tonight, I'd feel a bit sluttish (2 nights, 2 men) and I know I'd be paranoid about making sure all evidence of Jose was eliminated, and that felt too much like cheating, even if John and I never spoke of being exclusive, or not dating other people. So when he called to finalize plans, my response was, "I don't want to make dinner or watch a movie. I need to talk."

Cliched as it was, I listened to Beyonce's "Halo" over and over on the way to his house. Yes, I'm still on my Beyonce trip, months later than the rest of the country, but hey, she's been a bit of a lifeline this past week, so I'm not ashamed to admit it. It fortified me, tweaking the lyrics as a I sang, so that it spoke to me about being in love with Love or the Universe or the best of who I am, and finally, just trusting that my idea for Love in my life is so much smaller than what I am actually blessed with. There's some cosmic energy stronger than I out there and singing Halo on my way to speak my truth, I took great comfort (albeit a cheesy, high school, GLEE-like comfort) that this immense, benevolent energy,

it's my saving grace
everything I need and more
I know it won't fade away
I'm letting the walls just fall away
They didn't even put up a fight
I found a way to let You in
I've been awakened
I'm never gonna shut You out
Everywhere I'm looking now
I'm surrounded by Your embrace
Hit me like a ray of sun
burning through a dark night
You're the only one that I want
Think I'm addicted to Your light
I swore I'd never fall again,
but this don't even feel like falling
Gravity can't forget
To pull me back to the ground again

I parked in front of his house, took a deep breath, holding on to the vibration of my version of Halo, and said out loud, "I know You've got my back," as I walked in the door.

I could tell he knew what was coming by the concern in his eyes.

I told him I don't like the woman I am with him, always trying to figure out which page in which book he's in so I can be there, too, neglecting that I have a perfectly wonderful book to hang out in, forgetting even, until it's too late, that I am not here to accommodate his every whim or mood. I told him that his desire to buy me dinner for taking him to the airport was revealing. You buy dinner for a friend that takes you to the airport, but you take your lover to dinner the night before you leave because you're not going to be with them for five days. I told him that I'd wanted him to take me to a nice dinner, like he had offered, not ending up in casual clothes at a casual restaurant. I told him that I want to be treasured, I wanted his actions to be evidence of his affection for me.

I told him that he'd been pretty clear with what he could offer (essentially a "one foot out the door" relationship) and that my responsibility was in hoping that he'd wake up one day and realize that I'm it, that I'm the one he loves. That's just no way to sustain me or him or us. I told him that I couldn't make enough onion bread or cashew cheese (recipes of mine he loves) to make him love me, that if he isn't sold in three months of dating me, then I'm not it.

He told me he understood where I was coming from, that it's true that he hasn't been able to meet me in my world as much as either of us wanted, and that he's been pained by his inability to embrace all of what I have to offer. That was the hardest thing to hear, the thing that in the end, made me weep once I was in the safety of my car: For the first time since we've been dating, I finally get that he does see who I really am, that in his way, he's awed by me and by how right we are for one another in so many, many ways. He simply doesn't have the emotional capacity right now to love me, to adore me, as he said, he knows I deserve. Our timing was just off. We should have met five years ago or in another year. That a healed and whole John would have been grateful for a chance to honor me with the best of his love, that? That's what made me cry.

In the end, it was a simple calculus, but the answer offered none of the comfort of a well executed formula. In the end, we were two people who needed to take our first few steps away from one another in months, and it was hard.

So we stood in his living room, just before I left, holding each other, and he began to cry. I gripped tighter, not wanting to let go, but prepping for the inevitable, trying to steel us both for the coming, final separation. I think of him now, his sadness, his regret, his not understanding why he couldn't muster enough love for me, and I ache for him. And here I am again, trying to be in his shoes, in his book, living his words. This stops here.

With hours between the conversation and now, I'm sad, tired and weary, but also relieved and even proud of myself. I get it like I haven't before that my needs aren't too big, too needy, too much. It isn't that I'm not worth loving, and I finally (finally!) see that that's never been it. I'm not going down that road this time. I drove right past it, without even a sideways glance. I'm looking at that old lie and seeing the big "t" Truth right there in the middle of it: I'm worth loving me. The only person I ever had to prove it to was me. And there's not anything that's going to get in the way of dedicating myself to loving me the best I can from here on out, because, fuck, I am a spiritually empowered woman and it's about time I start living like one.

Here's to a new beginning. And thanks, John, for helping deliver me back to myself. I'd been away so long, I almost forgot it's a really great place to be.