What If I Should've Stayed?

I broke up with Alex two months ago. We were together for three years, through grad school and all the hardships that came with it. In our last semester, we moved in together and things seemed to be going great. But as graduation approached, stress levels skyrocketed along with my insecurities about the future. I got a job offer from a place far away while Alex was accepted into a prestigious local program. The distance thing wasn't ideal for anyone, but it had always been a possibility we discussed. Our last night before I left town, we had this big fight over how to proceed. I wanted clarity and closure, so I told him all my doubts about us working long-distance without ever having sex while we were dating. We hadn’t made that commitment yet because of our different comfort levels and schedules. It was tough on both sides; I felt like I needed something more from the relationship at this crucial juncture. That night, however, things got heated. Drunk and overwhelmed with emotions, I ended up pushing us toward an act we’d never agreed upon, despite my earlier reservations. We did it just once, but it didn't solve anything, the insecurity was still there after that one lapse in judgment. The next day, Alex proposed a compromise to give long-distance a chance; I said no and left town. Now, two months later, as I reflect on what happened back then, I can’t help but wonder if my actions were right or if they ruined something precious without ever truly understanding where we stood in the first place. Was it really about distance or was I just scared of our unresolved sexual dynamics? Writing this now is an attempt to understand my role in all of that confusion.