I usually have dinner with my mom on Wednesdays, but just felt I couldn't do it this week, after our ugly Sunday, and the trauma of the past couple of days. So, I called to let her know I wasn't going to come, and had to tell her. I wasn't looking forward to it, as she had pegged the boy as my future lifemate (just my impression from listening to her talk about us, not that she said it to me, that I implied it, or that she met him) and I foresaw this being another opportunity to blame me.
I was shocked when it didn't happen. And even more shocked when she made me feel better.
I gave her a glossed over version (he can't do a relationship with the job) and she was supportive. She asked if we were going to be friends, and said that you never know what will happen, and that things change, so not to let it break me. Then she said that I'd been very good for him, being there for support and fun, and maybe he'd miss that, and that he'd been good for me too, in that he helped me realize I have something to offer in the romantic relationship department. It all seemed so rational, and after getting really sad while talking to her, I'm feeling kinda better now. I am freaking awesome, and if he's not ready, well, then I'll just find someone who is. Or, we'll work it out at a later date (and she'd know about being dumped and after the situation changes, being asked for another chance and then ending up spending the rest of your lives together - my dad was a total jackass when they were dating. I'll tell you all about it sometime).
At the end of the conversation, after a lot of support and concern, she rounded back into form, and was concerned that I not fall apart like I usually do, and that I...wait for it...not eat junk. Thanks mom.