Almost all of my close female friends, and I literally can say all except one, are in long-term, serious, committed relationships. Furthermore, they all happen to have been in those relationships for almost exactly six years. How I happen to be the only single one amongst my friends is a mystery to me. Not so much the part about being single, but rather the part about them being my friend.
Honestly, at this point, I think they keep me around to remind them how shitty the dating world is when they get tired of their boyfriends. I am simultaneously envious and disgusted by their pure cohabitating bliss.
Lately though, they have me worried. I look to them as proof that relationships do work and that it is possible to find your perfect match, but in the past month I have been on hand for two relationship crises. Two out of four friends, mind you, and of the remaining two, one has been having an ongoing crisis surrounding the issue of marriage for so long now, I don’t really consider it an actual crisis anymore and the other is already engaged and they are too freakishly happy to be human.
The first happened about a month ago. Being the lame, broke writer-type that I am, I was knocked out by 10 PM on a Friday night until I was awakened by my phone buzzing for what seemed like forever. I turned over the phone on my bedside table and squinted at the glowing screen. Lindsay? Why was she calling me at 3 AM? I chalked it up to drunken pocket dialing and silenced the call. Closing my eyes, it began buzzing agin. Sighing, I answered. Hello? I mumbled groggily.
Lindsay burst into tears on the other line. Can I come over? she sobbed. Of course, I said, instantly feeling bad for ignoring the call. What’s wrong, though?
Adam and I broke up.
What? I exclaimed. Of course, come right over. I hung up the phone and less than a half an hour later, she arrived on my doorstep, her side-swept bangs plastered to her puffy face. I enveloped her in a hug and guided her to the couch. What happened?
After another few minutes of sobbing, she managed to admit that she and Adam had been having problems. She had come home from a fun night out, only to have him coldly tell her that he had “given it a lot of thought and didn’t want to work on the relationship anymore.” My jaw dropped. Was it that easy to end a relationship spanning more than half a decade?
Who does that? she yelped. This is your specialty! she implored. Advise me. I looked at her helplessly. I have never been in a relationship that needed two hands to count the length of it and the thought of something ending after that long made me sick to my stomach for her.
She continued, I mean who ends a six-year relationship at one in the morning on a Friday night? Doesn’t he know how hard it is to find parking? The indignant look on her face sent me into a spasm of laughter and when she realized how ridiculous her comment was, she too collapsed into giggles.
After we’d caught our breath, she looked at me seriously. Really though, I’m going to have to delete my Facebook account. I looked at her quizzically.
I mean there is no way I am changing my status to single. Oh my God, do you think he already changed his status?
I am not going to lie, I completely lost it right then and there. I am happy to report that by the next day they had gotten back together, but honestly seeing my friend in so much pain even for a night made me seriously question the ability for even the most solid relationships to last.
Two weeks later, round two occurred. This time my friend Melissa called me crying. I rushed over and it was the same sad story. After six years, they had ended it like that with a quick phone call. This time we drowned her sorrows with a bottle of wine from Trader Joe’s and some McDonald’s. They are still apart.
There was a time where I was convinced that if you could make it past a couple years, you could make it forever- well maybe like a decade, at least- but now I don’t know. In today’s world, is it even possible to make a relationship work long-term?
If I hear one more of my friends say that sentence as justification for making me do things I don’t want to do, I promise I will personally disband The Breakup Blog simply to make a point.
Ok. That is a bit extreme. I wouldn’t go that far, however, my friends are collecting bad karma points for taking advantage of me in that particular way. And therein lies the problem with being a writer whose misery becomes a source of entertainment for others. When I don’t want to do something my friends want to do because I know it will unduly cause me discomfort, shame, or some combination of both, they gleefully remind me that I can “write about it!”
Case in point:
This weekend, I joined one of my girlfriends for a glass of wine at a cute wine bar in her hood. As we chatted, she continued to text back and forth with a friend of ours who also happens to be really good friends with my most recent ex (not HIM him, but an ex nonetheless.)
Before I’d even finished my first glass of wine and was able to get a good buzz going- essential for reckless decision-making- she asked if I wanted to meet up with our friend at another nearby bar. I shrugged and agreed, until I looked at her most recent text. I immediately spotted in the response to her question of who was there my ex’s name.
I started shaking my head and my friend smiled sheepishly. “Come on,” she insisted. “It’ll be cool.”
You see, I have no problem seeing my ex. His new gorgeous girlfriend, however? Furthermore, I had been napping before I decided to go out and in my rush to get there had skipped doing my makeup and had pulled my hair back into a sloppy ponytail. Seeing my ex and his hot girlfriend while feeling completely unattractive? No thanks.
She wouldn’t give up, though. And then she uttered the words, I have come to recognize as my friends’ go-to last ditch effort: But you can write about it!
I checked my phone, saw that it was barely 11 PM, and rolled my eyes. Groaning, I consented because the only thing lamer than being dragged to a bar to confront your ex and his new girlfriend is being shamed into retreating to your house before midnight on a Saturday night because of your ex and his new girlfriend.
In hindsight, it wasn’t that bad. I borrowed lipstick from my friend, immediately ran into the bathroom to try to “sexy” up my hair, and never even had to be awkwardly introduced by my ex to the girl who took my place. My ex was cordial and we amicably chatted about what we’d been up to.
At the end of the night, I even got a delicious bacon-wrapped hot dog and cheesy tater tots from the gourmet food truck outside the bar and collapsed into my bed slightly tipsy and comfortably full.
My friend will most likely read this and text me later to let me know how right she was and how I was able to write about this, but to her I say: screw you, whatever.
This is my friend on the left. If you see her on the street, please punch her for me.
So I can’t speak for all girls. But I can speak for myself. And I can speak for most of the girls I know, and most of us have one vital flaw. We are way more invested in the guys we date than they are in us.
Now I’m not talking about “the one.” No, when it’s right- and I’ve seen couples for whom it is just right- both people are equally invested. But I’ve had enough relationships spanning from two weeks to eight months long to know that the difference between girls and guys is this: by the second date, hell sometimes even by the end of the first one, we have sized the guy up. We have decided where we will be getting married, what we will name our child (be it boy or girl), and even picked out our house and vacation home.
I have had my heart “broken” more times than I can count, before and after I met “him” and though I can now tell the difference between the kind of breakups that make me want to pout, bitch to my girlfriends, and chug a pint or two and the one that haunts me for months, both kinds still hurt.
That being said, it’s a new year and with that comes resolutions, or as I like to think of them, gifts we give to ourselves. This year, the gift I give to myself and to all the beautiful ladies I know and don’t know, is to not give of myself so freely to any cute guy who happens to buy me a drink. To take my time, choose wisely, and give selectively.
Just because you’ve been hurt, and we all have, doesn’t mean we need to build walls around ourselves. It just means that maybe we should be pickier about just who, and how quickly, we let through our doors.
What’s with all the new social media?
Last week, I went to NY and met some amazing literary agents, one of whom will hopefully end up helping me with turning this blog into a FULL-LENGTH BOOK!
On my recent trip, though, I was reminded just what a huge part you (my readers) have played and continue to play in The Breakup Blog’s success! That being said, I want to hear from you! Any advice, any questions, anything you hope to see or hear about in the book, LET ME KNOW!
I am now on Facebook and Twitter and will be making some fun changes to this blog complete with more stories, breakup content, and resources. More than ever, I need you guys to help the Breakup Blog grow and reach other dumpees and love-ravaged souls. Please join in the Breakup Blog revolution and follow me:
Facebook
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Twitter
xoxo thebreakupblogger
For all you guys and girls, who want a place to share your thoughts, questions, and rants about breakups, breaking up, and relationships in general, please check this out! I’ll be answering your questions, offering advice, and keeping you updated on all things Breakup Blog-related!
xoxo thebreakupblogger
Today it dawned on me that over the past several months, I’ve spent a lot of time talking about the “getting over him” process, but very little about what comes after it. Maybe because I don’t feel like I’m there so I just haven’t added anything else to my agenda. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that maybe there really isn’t a “there.” And if I wait for this elusive “there,” then I’m likely to be finding myself looking for my denchers after sex and not just my panties.
Not to say that I’ve been holed up in my bedroom eating Lean Cuisines this whole time, sobbing into my bedsheets. That only lasted for the first couple months. I’ve been plenty busy and I’ve dated and broken up and had more than a few nights *ahem* sowing my oats around the greater Los Angeles area.
But opening yourself to someone new, being vulnerable again, after you’ve had your heart torn in half then ground into the pavement until it has morphed into a fine dust, well that takes guts. Because two years ago or not, I still remember the tears and the pain of laying in bed not wanting to move and I promised myself I’d never let myself feel that way again.
And then I remember the most vulnerable characteristic I possess— the fact that I’m a human being. And at the end of the day, we just wanna be loved. And love.
So what comes next? I guess after all the debris settles from the last love-induced leap, all that’s left to do is walk right up to the next cliff and toe the edge. To open your arms wide, hope for the best, and let yourself fall.
