I got dumped during a global pandemic

As if losing my job, and subsequently questioning all of my life choices and overall identity as a reporter wasn't bad enough, I got dumped.

Yes, I know in the scheme of things, it seems inconsequential. I'm well aware that people are suffering, dying and financially struggling, but this really didn't seem like the time to lump this additional change on my platter. I will say though, in typical "Emily" fashion, our parting of ways wasn't without some laughs.

I actually thought I might break-up with him a few times, but I kept hoping it would be like it was when we first started hanging out. In the beginning, things were great. I was fun and direct, and I was me. But over time, that changed as I found myself sticking to his terms. He kept me at arm's length and I didn't feel like I could be myself or show any feelings of intimacy or passion without "permission" of sorts.

The thing was, Declan and I had known each other for quite a long time. I couldn't stand him when I first met him. Or the second time. Or even the third. By the fourth time, we became friends and dated shortly after. And when we did start dating, to my friends, Declan became known as "Naked Cop." It's a long story, but basically I have a habit of giving people nicknames and Declan's will eventually be linked to this one.

Either way, back then, he up and disappeared without notice. I was crushed. To this day, neither of us seemed to remember what happened. But somehow we began to talk again as we always had. We talked a lot over the years. He admitted to me that he'd kept up with my work as I traveled across the country. It seemed like I might actually have a chance at a relationship that could last. Until it didn't.

While he never gave much credence to my intuition, my gut feelings have never been wrong. I tend to underplay it and accuse myself of being overly anxious when my body is trying to tell me something isn't right. You'd think after all this time I'd be better at listening to myself, but I still tend to have doubts.

The break-up didn't feel great, but it wasn't completely unexpected. In fact, I told my friend Kate that same morning how much it would suck if Declan broke up with me because I would be stuck with so many reminders - socks with his disapproving face on them, videos and photos poking fun at them and oh, yeah, a plaster replica of his penis.

For his birthday, I had socks with his face on them made for him. He makes this expression that's pouty and disapproving - it always made me laugh. During the pandemic, there were issues with the delivery and somehow I'd ordered two pairs, one of which had a giant version of his face. Since I had already given him the socks I'd originally bought, I decided to have fun with them and put his face next to common objects, disapproving and judging them. Hey, I was stuck inside without steady work and it turned out to be a lot of fun. Eventually, I began adding his face to music videos. It became part of our daily routine. I don't think he thought it was as funny as some of my friends did, but you're probably more concerned with the penis anyways, so let's get to the tip of that matter.

On one of our social distancing FaceTime-y dates, Declan wanted to show me some of his "crafting." On a number of occasions, Declan would ... how you say, make molds of his penis. Seriously. I joked that he should use some of his "art" as drawer pulls in his kitchen or a tie-rack in his closet. I wasn't really sure why he needed so many, but I tend to not be discouraging when someone is ... creative. I even sent him a care package that included googly eyes to adhere to some of his pieces. He even rolled with it and complied! I laughed so hard. It was weird, don't get me wrong, but we were just having fun together, so I didn't see a problem with it.

Well, he decided to invite me in on the process for a change, so I was excited. This could be fun. Maybe even sexy? Well, without being too lewd, it was sexy. I might not have been in the room with him, but I certainly contributed to his creative process. He even gave me props for the final artwork being the most successful one yet.

Well, on one of my last visits to his place, he tucked it in my backpack. I'm genuinely not sure why as he still had many of his others? But, I went home with a plaster of Declan's penis.

Well, when he called that Thursday night before Independence Day, as he started to say the words, I broke down in tears. I hated feeling rejected. Moments together flashed in my mind at rapid pace. I tried to understand where his head was at and even now, I'm not sure I completely understand. I guess at the end of the day when someone decides that you aren't it, it doesn't matter, but still.

Midway through that recapping my feelings of falling in love with this dummy, not once, but twice, only to have this happen again, it hit me.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with your stupid face and your fucking penis now?" I bellowed as I bawled and laughed simultaneously.

Declan, who admittedly does not reveal emotions well, attempted to speak, but found himself competing with my dueling laughter and tears.

Honestly, it's hilarious. I was getting broken up with and staring over at his plaster penis.

How is this my life?

We went back and forth talking for a while. He mentioned talking to me again at some point in the future to offer me a congratulations and I found myself getting angry for a change. Anyone that knows me knows that I do not usually get angry; I get frustrated. But I was angry. I was angry that he had really dumped me over the phone after having known me for more than 15 years. I wasn't some girl he'd just met or even some girl he didn't care about. I knew I was someone he did genuinely care about. I felt the hurt bubbling up more. He told me he was a coward and that he couldn't do it to my face. He said he thought he might cry.

You selfish fucker.

"You're afraid you'd cry? I DESERVE those tears. I deserve your feelings. But you couldn't even give me that."

I was fuming. My cheeks were hot.

"I don't even care, because I have nothing to lose now. Remember that dream I told you I kept having? It was about you. I kept trying to tell you I loved you. Each time, I either called you a 'dummy' or an 'idiot' or fell off the couch, tripped ... you name it. The last time I told you, I was calm and said it to your face and kissed you after. But that last time, in the dream, you questioned it. So now I'll tell you what I wanted to tell you the first time and the second time: I love you," I said as I assumed he'd try to say anything back. "I'm not telling you for you. I'm telling you for me. In so many moments, in this time, I wanted you to know that I love you. And that's for me, not for you."

I wanted to get off the phone with him, but I also knew that it would mean I would be losing my routine, my nightly call, my daily recap and that I would be losing Declan. He talked about talking to me soon and I wanted to scream. Soon? Are you fucking kidding me?

"Declan, you won't be talking to me soon. Don't 'Chandler' me. How could you talk to me?"

"I'm sure there will be a congratulations in order and I have no doubt in my mind you'll be a famous writer," he said.

I could have socked him in the face. He didn't care enough about my feelings to give me a proper goodbye, among other things, but was already planning on wishing me well for future success?

Well, if my words ever earn me a status of becoming a household name, understand that the following words of dedication go out to Declan:

To Declan, the selfish Naked Cop:

I couldn't stand you. I tolerated you. I wanted you. I loved you. I lost you. I missed you. I wanted you. I needed you. I loved you. I hate you. I finished my book. And I still have your stupid penis.