Personal 9/11

Tonight when I was out, my friends and I talked about a very personal matter. A very personal matter that I want to share with you. Tonight, we talked about our personal 9/11's.

Right now you may be wondering what a personal 9/11 is. Maybe. However, if you've experienced one, you know. Everybody who's ever been in love... or more specifically, everybody who's ever loved and lost... has been through a personal 9/11. It's the moment when everything changes forever. The moment that there's no coming back from. The moment where you lose faith, you're hit hard and you're reeling. Wondering how you got to that point and what could possibly come next. It's the worst feeling in the world. Well, it's one of them.

Now, I don't want to mislead you. I think I need to be a little more specific as to what I'm talking about. I'm not talking about the moment in a relationship when you realize things aren't going to work. That moment's not nearly as devastating. And I'm not talking about the actual breakup either. Even that's easier to deal with. I'm talking about what happens after the breakup. Days, weeks, or months after when you start thinking about your ex and questioning if you both made the right decision. I'm talking about the moment that comes after you're left alone with your thoughts and your worries and your fears, and when you decide it's time to tell them exactly how you feel. Regardless of what the outcome may be. It's selfish, with the hopes that it will be considered selfless in retrospect. But at the same time it's a suicide mission. It's the formula for a personal 9/11.

Not every relationship leads to this type of moment. Thank god. Only that one special one. Even if you've been lucky enough to have more than one great relationship in your lifetime, there's still that one that you always come back to. That one ex that pops up in your head time and time again. No matter how much time passes or no matter how much you think you've grown. There they are. That's the one who's responsible for your personal 9/11. That's the one who committed a jihad against your heart, which is not only cruel, but also one hell of a Country song title.

This moment - this one-of-a-kind moment - is not limited to one style. It can come in many shapes and sizes. Sometimes it happens in a letter. Sometimes it happens during a planned meeting. It can happen at a party or in a park or in between classes as dozens of people stop in their tracks to soak in the sight of a guy crying his eyes out in front of the Psychology building as his ex-girlfriend stands there hoping that her teacher doesn't come out. Like I said, it's far from limited. Though there is one common tie that binds-- you're usually drunk.

The nice thing about these moments is that there's not a gender bias. It can happen to men, it can happen to women. The only difference is when a guy throws himself out there and lays it out on the table for an unresponsive ex he becomes "pathetic" whereas a girl simply becomes "crazy." Tomatoes, tomatoes. It's all the same.

Me, my personal 9/11 came not too long ago ago. Over the phone. And yes, I was drunk. In fact, I pulled off a rare personal 9/11 trifecta - it started at on the phone, climaxed with a drunken email, and the denoument involved an awkward meeting shortly thereafter. Scholars have since used this series of events in their studies. Studies which went on to conclude that it's never a good idea to invite Breakup with someone, only to beg them to take you back because you're confused. If only I would have had those schematics last year, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided. But probably not.

Because you can't avoid it. It's bigger than you. Even if everything points to it being a bad idea - your gut, your friends, that crazy little thing called "logic"-- it doesn't matter. You're going to do it. It's the grown up equivalent to "do you think it's going to hurt if I jump from here?" Yes, it will. But you're going to have to give it a try anyway.

I try not to think about the conversation we had that night. It was, no doubt, ugly. Getting rejected by somebody who in the past has only accepted you; there's no easy way to take that. It's definitely going to hurt and it's definitely going to suck and you're definitely going to say something like "I hope you regret this for the rest of your life" and wish you didn't when you realize what you did in the morning. Remember I said I try not to think about it.

Far removed from that night - both in time and emotionally, I know it was a good thing. It is a good thing. It gives you that closure that a breakup doesn't. I remember listening to Loveline on the radio one night driving around, where Adam Corrolla said "even after they break up with a chick, guys feel like they have a lifetime pass." Which is totally true. We do. That is, until you have that personal 9/11 moment. Thats when your pass gets denied. Done. Thanks for playing. But unlike other relationships, when you're talking about that important one, this is how it has to end. Or it won't end. There's a reason they're important.

Do I regret my personal 9/11? Yes and no. Looking back, I wish I wasn't drunk and I wish I would have been able to pull myself toether before saying things I'd regret. While the event was completely necessary, I wish I would have handled myself a little better. I think that sometimes, but then I realize No. That's impossible. That's not what it's about. When you decide to make that jump you can't expect to control anything as you're falling to the ground. You just have to hope that it doesn't hurt too much when you land.

And even if it does, guess what. That's not going to stop you from getting back on that edge again if you have the opportunity. Some people never learn.