For a month after I broke up with my boyfriend, we still lived together. I hadn’t found another place yet, and we kept talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. We were sad, but we still got along. The relationship was over before the easy part of being together had gone anywhere.
We’re both 25. I ended things about two months ago because I was sexually unfulfilled. He had tried, but sex didn’t do much for him, and he didn’t want it. We had talked about that. It wasn’t something he felt he could change, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life without sex.
There wasn’t a betrayal to point to or a fight that made leaving feel obvious. We agreed that neither of us had done anything wrong. We weren’t trying to hurt each other. We wanted different things in a part of the relationship that mattered, and being honest about it meant admitting that affection hadn’t made us sexually compatible.
I understood that when we broke up. I still understand it. What I’m struggling with is how much else I lost along with a relationship that wasn’t meeting that need. We understood each other. We communicated well, had great conversations, and made each other laugh. I loved him as a person, and I haven’t stopped just because I moved out.
That month under the same roof meant we had time to experience being apart while still being around each other. We could acknowledge why we weren’t working as a couple and still enjoy spending time together. There was no sudden change that turned him into someone I didn’t want around. Even after the breakup, his company was something I wanted to keep.
Now we’re giving each other time and space, with very little contact. He’s called three times in the last month. It’s been lovely to talk to him, but those calls also remind me how much I miss the ordinary closeness. I don’t just miss having a boyfriend. I miss talking to this particular man, with the understanding and laughter we already had.
Part of me wants to go back and let the lack of sex be something I accept. When I miss him this much, I feel foolish for ending it over that. But getting back together would mean returning to the same difference, not discovering that it had disappeared while we were apart. I don’t know whether I could truly accept it. I also don’t want him to feel guilty for being unable to give me what I wanted.
He’s said he would like us to be friends further down the line, though he isn’t sure he’ll be able to. I want that possibility, even if neither of us can promise it now. More than anything, I want to sit on the sofa with him again and talk and laugh. I hope we’ll get to do that.
