LOSING IT

MY BOYFRIEND, BEN, IS COMING OVER to break up with me. Well, I’m notsure that’s what he’s coming to do, but we’re going to have a “talk” about the magic that’s gone, and it didn’t sound too promising when we spoke on the phone a little while ago. He’s allergic to my cats, so he rarely visits. I’m joking to myself that at least now hehas to come over. It wouldn’t be right for him to have me cab over there just to tell me, in so many words, to leave—for good.

How do I feel? Upset. But it’smy upset, the Oh-it’sso-tragic-what-a-good-story-I’ll-have-for-my-friends or the This-is-just-what-I-need-to-get-back-into-the-swingof-things-at-work kind. I want to let myself mourn, but until we talk, I can’t really consider this a loss since I’m not sure what we will say. If we do break up, I imagine I will still have difficulty grieving. I’ll cry some real tears, then force some more, then I’ll look in the mirror and stare at what a beautiful light green my eyes become when I cry. It’s true. I don’t generally buy this my-eyes-changecolor stuff. I think people’s eyes just look different in different light or when they wear different colors. But my hazel eyes really do turn a kind of pale aqua when I’ve been crying—inany light.

And see, here I am thinking about anything but the subject at hand. This man, boy practically, is no longer smitten, and he says it’s as painful for him as it is for me. He wants to be psyched to see me when I come over. But he’s not.

THIS NEW DEVELOPMENT IS QUITE RECENT, perhaps it’s been for the last week or so, but we’v