Chapter 5: Letting Go and Starting Over

After really breaking up with Derek, the imaginary comments exploded:

[What? Haven’t checked in for a few days—how did the couple break up?]

[So annoying. Must be those friends hyping him up again. They’re single and can’t stand others being in love.]

[The guy leaves his bros’ umbrella, only to find it’s not raining outside. Hilarious.]

[Keep it up—if he really breaks up with the girlfriend, his friends will be fighting for a chance at love.]

[Girl, stand up for yourself! If the guy can mess around with his childhood sweetheart, you can find yourself a golden retriever boyfriend too. Why should only guys get to be unrestrained?]

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t upset. After all, a relationship of several years isn’t easy to let go of. But I couldn’t let myself fall apart anymore. I still had my own life.

Instead, I threw myself into work, got coffee with coworkers who’d become real friends, and started going to yoga on Sundays again. I filled my days with things Derek always mocked—spin class, indie coffee shops, even painting my nails neon just because I could.

I didn’t believe the comments. After all, Derek’s friends had always had a bad attitude toward me. Several times, they’d secretly warned me, saying I wasn’t good enough for Derek and trying to force me to leave him.

The worst was when Caleb cornered me against a wall, interrogating me about what I saw in Derek. I thought he was screening for his friend, so I deliberately disgusted him—said it was for money, that I just liked rich guys.

After that day, Caleb started wearing a Rolex on both wrists every day. I thought he was mocking me, so I teased him back, calling him a peacock and asking if his family had gone bankrupt, so he started modeling watches. Caleb got so angry he took the watches off the next day.

The memory made me smile, even now. I realized for the first time how much of my relationship had been a performance for Derek’s audience.

But now, seeing what the comments said, I hesitated. Tentatively, I posted on Facebook:

[Single again. Happy breakup.]

It was already two in the morning. I thought no one would care. Unexpectedly, the next second my feed was flooded with likes. People who’d never liked my posts before lined up to like it.

I blinked, counted, and realized—they were all Derek’s friends.

I refreshed my feed, and a new post popped up. It was from a minute ago.

Caleb: "24 years old, 6’3”, 18+ (age-appropriate), Ivy League degree, no childhood sweetheart, no high school flame, 10pm curfew, doesn’t like drama or silent treatments, listens to his girlfriend, currently single, available for dating."

I thought of the comment about finding a golden retriever boyfriend—a sweet, loyal guy who actually wants to stick around—and clicked on Caleb’s profile.

I messaged: [Hey.]

He replied instantly: [Let’s date. I’ll post it on Facebook right now.]

Me: [......]

[But I didn’t come to you to date.]

The previous message was immediately deleted.

Caleb: [Sent to the wrong person. What’s up?]

Me: [......]

[Is Derek with you? Let him talk to me.]

There was a moment of silence, then Caleb sneered:

[He’s not here. Why? Treating me like a messenger? I’m not obligated to be part of your couple drama.]

I explained: [That’s not what I meant. Derek and I broke up. I just want to return his things.]

I really had no other way. After dating so long, Derek had left a lot of things at my place. Cups and towels were whatever, but there were also valuable things, like rings and watches. I tried to send them by FedEx, but Derek was never home. These things were expensive and had to be signed for in person. I couldn’t keep dragging this out, so I thought of asking Caleb for help.

[Oh, so you really broke up.]

For some reason, Caleb’s tone suddenly softened, even with a hint of hidden joy:

"Just send it by FedEx. He’s here."

I accused him: "Didn’t you just say he wasn’t?"

"Did I? Forgot. Hey, I’m younger than Derek. Guess I’ve got that early-onset memory loss."

Isn’t it the elderly who are forgetful?

I hadn’t had time to point out the flaw in Caleb’s words before he was already urging me to send it quickly. He even thoughtfully reminded me:

[Remember to choose cash on delivery. Don’t pay after breaking up.]

His practicality made me laugh out loud, the first real laugh I’d had in days. Only an American guy would think to nickel-and-dime FedEx fees after a breakup.