This past weekend I broke up with my boyfriend. And I was the one who did the breaking up.

This column isn’t a campuswide shout-out or a declaration of my singlehood. Because frankly, though I was the one doing the breaking up, I don’t feel like flaunting the end of my relationship and tossing myself into the dating world. 

Nor is this meant to be a public apology. I have said what I have needed to say to the individual in question. I also recognize that what is exchanged between two people in a relationship is meant for their ears only, and I wish to honor that intimacy.

I am exposing this to the masses because I feel the breakers of relationships are an unspoken party. You always hear from the people who have just gotten their hearts squashed, but not so much from the ones who have done the heart-squishing. Breaking someone’s heart feels much worse than being heartbroken.

I would much rather be the wronged party: crying into a pillow, getting all cathartic with Carrie Bradshaw and gorging myself on sorbet, which is generally what happens when I get my heart stepped on. This time, I get to be the one questioning the emotions I am putting another person through. No sorbet for this girl. At least no sorbet covered with despair-flavored sprinkles. Instead, I’m munching on a guilt sundae. 

I would love to press a fast-forward button and end up at a point in life where I can see the meaning of my relationship and the wisdom of my decision. 

I wish I could give some sort of logical explanation for me wanting to end a relationship with someone who cared about me and, more often than not, paid for my meals. But I don’t have an explanation. I fell out of love, my affections faded — there are a million clichéd explanations for my actions and none of them seem to vindicate my choice. In fact, I had been avoiding saying anything to him because of how serious he was about me and how badly I didn’t want to hurt him. I reached a point when I realized I was leading him on. 

To a certain extent, I know I had no choice in ending my relationship. I had to do what was right for me, and right for the other person in the long run. Relationships are an emotional affair. We can examine their logistics, but what we feel when we date someone, have a great time, and then leave them, defies logic. 

Just as I was unsure about ending my relationship, I am unsure about how to end this column. Here’s what I know: in the coming weeks, I will undergo a time of personal self-evaluation that probably won’t make it into this paper. I just hope what I do write gives a human side to heartbreakers everywhere.