Love Is Not Enough: Sydney Rudman

JQ! It’s Sydney. This could literally not have come at a better time… I just needed someone to tell me to write down my feelings and now you have. You don’t have to use this by any means. It’s not that coherent. But it was helpful in ways you can’t even imagine.

I broke up with my boyfriend today. He was sweet, loving, and compassionate. He was a feminist, a gardener, a chef, and a lover. Every woman’s dream. My dream. But he wasn’t driven. Or compassionate. Or motivated. 

I broke up with him because he wasn’t fully committed to living in the City and getting a job here. He wasn’t making steps toward a concrete life away from his family upstate. I paid for everything. I gave him a soft place to land on when he came here. I integrated him into social settings he would otherwise avoid. 

It’s been 5 hours (literally). Every time I think about it I want to cry. Or yell at myself. Is it worth it to let someone go that was loving and made me feel safe? Am I being too hard on him? Are my expectations too high? Am I just too young? Is this right or is it not? Is it not right right now? 

But how we met was not without his own faults — relegating his family to give me his number rather than approaching me himself. It was written on the wall from the beginning. I held onto it for so long, but now every time I think about it I can only see the part where he cowers at his own goals. I miss him. I’ll miss having that person to talk to every night when I’m bored or drunk or just plain dumb in love with his goofy face and curly hair. He was funny. Always. He made me see the world with humor and skepticism. I’ll think of him every time I see a toad; he loved them.

I’m angry because I see so much potential in him to be the best at what he does, but truthfully, I want that for him more than he wants it for himself. And in a way I’m angry at myself. I fell in love with him. And it happened faster than I care to admit. The thought of making a mistake has crossed my mind about every 15 minutes at this point. I hope I’m doing the right thing. Photo: Ilenia Tesoro