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Posts Tagged ‘breakup’

There is a theory (propagated by Sex and the City) that says it takes approximately half the time one was in a relationship to get over said relationship. By that logic, I will be fully recovered in…three years. A strange claim coming from someone who has never been in a “serious relationship”? Allow me to explain.

I am in the midst of the most difficult break-up of my life. I was dumped by my best friend. The person whose shoulder I normally cry on is now the person causing the painNo one talks about friendship break-ups. This leads me to believe they are rare. Sure, friendships fade, we lose touch. I don’t cry every time some one “unfriends” me on Facebook, chances are I don’t even notice. But when someone you love cuts you out of their life- someone who knows your secrets, dreams and fears-how can you not feel heartbroken?

There is no inciting incident I can pinpoint. It didn’t end with a blow out- no cliché betrayal, no boyfriend-stealing. I was subjected to the slow fade: the anti-confrontation, the coward’s break-up. It’s left me hurt and confused- what went wrong? Was it me? Cosmopolitan magazine a source no one should trust says the number one reason people break up is because they fall out of love. Does this only apply to romantic relationships? I’m an only child, my concept of “loving someone like a sister” can never be exact. Where did the love go?

Cosmo (how much respect am I losing by referencing this rag?) says the number two reason people break up is cheating. Perhaps this is where our problem lies.We never had an exclusive best friendship. She was always my best friend- from college. Throughout the four years (and three years post college) we both maintained best friends- from home. Maybe this feeling of not being the one and only, the best best, is the cause of our ultimate demise. Was she my best friend soul mate? No. She wasn’t. (That’s Miranda.) I’ve always believed in having several best friends. A saving grace. A break-up with one of my best friends is difficult enough. The pain of a falling out with my one-and-only, best of the best, soulmate, is unimaginable.

In a romantic relationship, you consider that possibility. That someday one of you will wake up and say “Um, I’m over this.” In a friendship, do we ever consider that? My best friend has held my hair back as I’ve puked and I knew she still loved me. She saw my face red and puffy from tears, laughed with me to the point of almost peeing our pants, witnessed horrible decisions with no judgments, cheered me on through bouts of self-doubt, held my hand at the ER. We have seen each other at our best and worst. Did the worse out way the best? Was that the deal breaker? With a best friend does one ever think “Does this have any future?” or “Where is this going?”. You never consider a future with your best friend, you take it for granted.

The third reason people break up, again, according to the worst source ever Cosmo, is because someone lied about something and trust was difficult to regain. I did lie to her once. I remember it vividly because the reason I lied was because I was judging myself. Does that diffuse the lie? As someone looking on the situation older and wiser eyes, I would say yes, somewhat. What was the lie, you wonder? I lied to her about loosing my virginity. A thing that was not exactly any of her business and in every way my own secret to choose to tell. But when she asked, I lied. I told her I hadn’t when in fact I had. A month later I would end up telling her the truth, when I was finally comfortable with it myself. The fact that I had not trusted her did cause a rift in our friendship that took some fixing. In my eyes, I repaired the trust without much difficulty. Now, I look back on that lie and wonder if it was the beginning of the end, an unraveling that began years before the ultimate demise.

I will likely never know exactly what went wrong. We haven’t spoken to each other in over six months, aside from painfully awkward “hellos” at the gatherings of mutual friends. I tried to save the friendship once by confronting her, talking things out and it worked for a while. Then she stopped returning my calls. Again. That was the last straw: ”Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me” goes the cliché. I live in New York, I’m no fool. ”Time heals all wounds” goes another cliché. In three years I won’t give it a second thought. Until that time comes, I will avoid two things:

  1. Thinking thoughts of “If my best friend doesn’t love me, who will?”
  2. Reading Cosmo articles along the lines of How to Get Over A Break-up or Break-Up Survival Guide. Let me amend that to: Avoid reading any Cosmo article ever. At age 26, I think that’s a good choice to make.

Have you experienced a friendship break-up? Any words of advice? I’d love to hear about it!

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boxers

[img: sproducts.com]

He’s sprawled out on the bed wearing only his cornflower blue boxer briefs (his description, not mine… In the time we’ve dated he’s switched from boxers to boxer briefs which must be a milestone- from boyhood tighty whities to adolescent boxers to, finally, adult male boxer briefs?- because he’s made a big deal about it. To the point of identifying the exact shade of his underwear. Yeah. Definitely one of those kinda cute in the beginning, kinda weird by the end things. Also as something so uncharacteristic of straight males, it did, in vulnerable moments following this story, make me want to condemn him to stereotype: Gay! even though I know he’s not.) In the back of my mind where the lessons of my liberal arts education and the wisdoms of my best friend (a self-described feminist who minored in gender studies) lie I consider the machismo nature of his pose, the male dominance his body language is begging me to acknowledge. He’s looking at me.

I can’t do this anymore.

I listen to the phrases fall out of his mouth, aware I’m responding to several but I am completely not in this scene. I am having an out of body experience where I’m watching myself in a poorly written, badly acted, made-for-tv movie:

It’s not you, I think you’re great.

We come from too (two?) different places.

We want different things.


And I think I’m the New York cliché?

Had he said “It’s not you, it’s me.” I would’ve laughed uproariously in his face. But he didn’t say that so it didn’t end in peals of laughter, it just ended. The finale of my Central Park Guy saga. It was a fun episode for the most part, an interesting introduction into the perils of dating in Manhattan. “No shame, no regret”. Those aren’t my words, those are the words the guy has tattooed, one phrase on each forearm. Insignias he did not have when I first met him in the park. Now they are permanently etched in his flesh and in my memory, a trivia fact that makes a brilliant ending to his story arch.

It really came down to “We want different things” – the only line that didn’t raise my bullshit! flags. Yep, like so many of the men and women of New York, we wanted different things.

If you’ve seen the Sex and the City movie, you know women come to New York looking for two L’s: Labels and Love.

SATC20ladies

I came to New York not looking for the labels I knew I couldn’t afford and not looking for love but rather to figure out what the hell I wanted. Well it’s six months later and after this Central Park Guy experience, I have a much better idea of what I want. Carrie Bradshaw had it right all along. Yes, here I am- single, fabulous (exclamation point), lusting over a pair of Chanel eyeglasses (I tried them on at Lenscrafters just for fun- big mistake), and looking for love in the big city (and apparently in danger of becoming the cover sleeve blurb of a chick lit novel. Still, it beats “It’s not you, I think you’re great”).

Now the problem as I see it, and Carrie neglected to say this, is that while women come to New York for those two L’s, men come for two F’s: Food and Fucking. Both of which are available on many a street corner for a price far below any kind of designer duds. Even the most decadent meal and a high class hooker? Still cheaper than one high end handbag. (And yet men make more money than women? WTF)

We want different things.

And so the task is to find someone whose wants match up with mine (and whose weirdnesses mesh with mine annnnd about 100+ other things). The odds are against me, but when aren’t they in this city and when isn’t that half the fun?

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