Dude Three, The Break-up but Not the End of the Tale

Hi, Dear Sillies,
I hope life is treating you well and that you're treating yourself even better.
When last we read, Dude Three showed an angry, unattractive side.
Here we are talking, trying to smooth things out.
Note that I wrote this a few months in retrospect.

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Dude Three: I need you to respect my wishes when I say I don’t want to talk about something. Look, I’ve been respecting you all along, and the one time I ask for privacy, here we are. You turned this into a whole big production, and now you’re the victim somehow. It’s simple, just give me my space when I ask for it, but you made this into something so much bigger. When I bring something up, I just want you to listen. And I'll do that when I'm ready. You understand what I’m saying?

I shifted my head from my right to my left. We need to get through the hard times together, or this can't work. It's about two of us, not just you.

Dude Three: All I'm saying is you will respect my feelings when I say I don’t want to talk about something.

Whoa. I tried to feed his language back to him so he'd hear how he sounded. You will . . . no, I can’t even talk like that. I can't believe you said that.

Dude: Well you will respect my wishes if this is gonna work. There are a lot of things I'm private about. He unleashed a huff-sigh. This is only going to get worse.

Me: That’s not fair.

Dude: Yeah, it’s not fair to me. He'd been squirrel-y during the discourse, as if about to dart out the door but trying to sit through it. He stood up now. I'm just going to the bathroom.

Seconds later, Dude Three came out of the bathroom. I'm leaving now.

    

Robyn: I'd like a hug before you leave.

Dude Three: No. You’re just going to manipulate me into staying. You’d say 'just stay 15 more minutes,' then more time, and more time.

    
Robyn: I don’t play games like that. I was just asking for a hug.

   
Dude Three: No I’m going. He walked to the door. Come here and give me a kiss.

Knowing it was the end, I walked over and gave him a quick (final) peck when he stood under the door frame.

   The next day, we exchanged a few messages. First, I told him I needed space.
   He said "Okay, I'll leave you alone" and then “Why do I feel like we’re done.” [Yeah, Dude doesn't use proper punctuation.]

   I responded, kindly and (perhaps too) lovingly, that we are done. "I won’t be censored. I won’t be worried about what I say or don’t say from one moment to the next. I’ve been through this before and it ended in divorce and disaster. I need to feel safe expressing myself in a relationship. I woke up at 2:30am the past two mornings, anxious. My body was telling me I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I love you, and this is breaking my heart too."  I went on to say everything I appreciated about him and our time together.    

   The break-up was painful, as breakups are. Every time I go through it, I remember and can't believe how much it hurts. It's like your insides are ruthlessly yanked out of your body, sent through the world's most powerful super sized, razor-sharp bladed saw mill, then tossed out for turkey vultures to gleefully feast upon for dinner, dessert, and an after-dinner snack. 
   Yet I’m glad I did it and did it fairly swiftly.

   A month or so later, I resumed a positive outlook. But things would take an unexpected turn through a twisted set of circumstances.  
   Please stick with me for several more posts. Thanks for your patience and loyalty, my dears. You're the best of blogland's best. I appreciate you!