I Just Need To Dance

One time I broke-up with a guy because I wanted to paint more. Which is a lie.

Honestly, I ended things because I felt smothered and I didn't know how to gingerly break someone's heart yet. So I told him that I needed to find myself. My journey required that I go back to doing the things that I was passionate about. I told him that I didn't feel alive anymore and that I craved inspiration. I sat with him on the couch in the first post-dorm house and did my best to let him down easy. He and I had been dating for several months across the Texas-Louisiana border, and days after he moved back to his hometown of Lafayette, Louisiana, I wanted out. But I didn't know how to tell him. So I told him that I wanted to read, write, travel, paint, escape student activities, and invest more time in my family. I assured him that he had been an exceptional boyfriend and that my issue was with my lackluster soul. And as the words fell out of my mouth, I began to believe them.

The hardest part was when he asked why he couldn't be with me to do all of those things. And I looked away in my best impression of  Mischa Barton's character in The OC and said, "I have to do this alone."  

The saddest part is that I spent the next three days partying my ass off and making out with strangers in bars. And then on the fourth day after our break-up, I met a guy and dated him for the next two years.

I guess I'll start that painting now.