Blocked & Breakups

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I thought when my relationship ended, so would my writer’s block. Well it never really was writer’s block, just more respect for the individual I was sharing my days with for awhile. But it seems to have just gotten worse. Maybe it’s because it’s not really over for me yet. (Yes I know. I’m stupid, crazy, deluded, enter similar adjective here.) Maybe I just need time to decompress. Whatever it may be I’m going to force a post in hopes of restarting the rusty word processor.

So let’s see topic. Breakups. Yes. Let’s talk about breakups. But in a very disconnected way that is not reflective of my personal life whatsoever, because I haven’t even really spoken to you in 18 months, guys. Stop trying to pry. Geeze.

Some people handle breakups with such grace and peace. “You’ve enriched my life, thank you for being a part of it during this time. We must part now, go forth and be happy.” Others down whiskey until they can’t feel feelings. Others bounce to the next as though the love from the previous is completely transferrable like a store exchange. This one wasn’t the right fit; let’s try the medium.

Even within each of my own breakups the approach has changed. I’ve had the breakdowns, I’ve had the amicable parting, I’ve left for someone else, I’ve slammed the door shut and I’ve pined for a reconciliation. So all these articles and books about how to survive a breakup seem ridiculous.

You get half the length of the relationship to move on. Nope just two weeks for every month.

Don’t watch romcoms, but allow yourself to mourn.

Don’t ever speak to him again. Well what if you have a child together?

Don’t jump into a relationship too soon. What about those fabled people who go on a date a week after the breakup and end up marrying the person?

Know it’s better to be single than with someone who isn’t right for you. Yeah, ok but who said anything about being sad because you’re single. Maybe you’re sad because you love the jerk and you can’t just turn it off. 

There’s nothing worse when going through a breakup than overused platitudes and plenty of fish speeches. Especially considering that most breakups past high school and even college are nowhere near simplistic. Lives become more intertwined (mostly due to my inability to set up appropriate, healthy boundaries). Baggage from each relationship compounds to mismatched sets that never really make sense no matter how much you analyze your relationship patterns.

So as long as I’m functioning in the world and not breaking down completely, can’t I just handle being torn from someone the way I want? If I want to create an epic breakup playlist and listen to it on repeat for months after the fact, give me that. If I want to binge on Gilmore Girls and cry every time Jess wrongs Rory, it’s my choice. If I want to continue conversations the guy who wronged me, please be patient.

I will say my friends have been phenomenally understanding as I walk through this season. So none of this could be directed at them. Most of the worn-out “forget that jerk, buck up and get yourself out there” talk has come from unsolicited, acquaintance-level sources.

I wish I was better at putting it all behind me. Dispelling the hope and dismissing the ghost. But I’m not. Especially in these uncharted breakup circumstances. And I have no idea what I’m doing aside from taking it one day at a time like a love-struck alcoholic who manages to go about her regular life with an ambiguous hole where a boy used to fit so nicely.  

(Ed note: I apologize for this awkward reintroduction. I promise these will get better as I stretch my muscles and sort out my life a bit more.)

Shut up, everyone, about the end of courtship

What a splendidly hypocritical way for me to come back to the blogosphere. Scolding relationship/dating experts who are desperately seeking page views, shares and retweets. But this topic has been weighing on me for some time and I wanna talk about it, dammit.

I’m completely disheartened by all the hookup culture/end of courtship talk. I know I’ve been in a relationship for over a year so it may seem that all of this should matter little to me. Especially considering we didn’t have a real, take-me-out-to-dinner date until a few weeks into our romance. But it makes me sad to think that singles everywhere are being told to put aside any expectations they have about dating and put up with inconsiderate, non-committal behavior.

It seems to be a byproduct of the constant lectures about being too available to the people we’re attracted to combined with new technology, stunted maturity and media that portrays hookup-only dating as the norm. But I’m not sure it is the norm, just because Girls says it is.

Just as “we accept the love we think we deserve” the same goes for the initial stages of that love. And the dating life we deserve/want looks different from individual to individual so it’s really a matter of finding someone whose expectations align with your own. If you want to be wined, dined, pursued and made to feel special, that’s exactly what you should demand.

That doesn’t necessarily mean writing off someone the second they send you a text at 10 p.m. asking if you care to meet up with a group rather than the one-on-one date you’d prefer. It’s about communicating those preferences. It’s your job to make what you want clear to a prospective partner. It’s their job to step up and comply or step down and leave you open to find someone who can.

I know it’s never that simple. Lonely people make concessions they shouldn’t. Deviant people make promises they have no intention of ever keeping. But at least acknowledging that not everyone—male or female—desires to be a part of the hookup culture is a step in the right direction. There are no real norms in this world. Especially when it comes to dating. So it’s a mistake to think you have to accept something that makes you unhappy or uncomfortable just because it’s “the norm” according to some relationship trend piece in a publication that will denounce the trend a year from now in favor of more traditional dating norms. Because, you know, vintage!

The older I get (a year and a half from 30 so I’m basically as wise as I’ll ever be) the more I shake off the expectations and norms I’m supposed to embrace so I can focus on what’s going to make me happy, healthy and well adjusted. And buying into every shocking new fad that crosses my computer screen threatens that happiness more than anything. 

First Kiss(es)

All first kisses should involve matching nordic sweaters.

My first kiss moment occurred when I was but a lass of 15. Astyn B. was hosting an end-of-the-year party on her parent’s farm. (I don’t count the one inside the Kindergarten playhouse from Dylan or the time Tadd F. pinned me down in the gym in 3^rd grade.) For most of the night I had been flirting with Josh P. as adeptly as any newly minted sophomore can (I’m sure he remembers my suave moves a bit differently). He was one of the taller boys with brown eyes that I thought revealed a very deep teenage soul. He had such style about him in his polyester Adidas shirt, which had a melted spot where the bonfire spark landed. It was one of a collection. GQ model material right there.

I remember how the defeat washed over me when Astyn told me my parents had arrived to bring me home. All of the progress I made that night would come undone over an entire summer spent in separate towns with no hope of an accidental cafeteria run-in. In the next moment my disappointment vanished as Josh grabbed my arm, turned me around and planted a passionate, tight-lipped kiss on my surprised mouth. It was like kissing a Muppet, Burt or Kermit the Frog or one of the other ones without lips (so not Janice). It was…completely thrilling.

I felt like a woman. A tingly, twitterpated woman. I just knew every future kiss would be measured against this electrifying smack.

My relationship with Josh P. blossomed into absolutely nothing after months of “what does it all mean?” and remains a friendship to this day. Despite the anti-climactic conclusion, I remember it as one of my most idyllic first kisses.

In girl talks over the past week I’ve discovered that some girls have amazing luck when it comes to their various first kisses. One friend has had inaugural pucker moments during beach walks, moonlit nights and romantic Valentine’s dinners. Another during a Pam & Jim-esque iPod dance. Meanwhile the rest of us get sudden kiss attacks in the midst of watching a movie, booze-soaked smooches and juvenile, “I’m going to kiss you now” moments. No soft embraces as the snow falls around us or passionate moments in the rain after a declaration of love for this girl. It’s probably because I’m not selective enough about the mouths I allow near my face.  

Prior to this conversation, I just assumed over-the-top romantic beginnings didn’t happen outside of grating rom coms. But now my low expectations are shattered. The bar has been raised. Unfortunately, I’m not exactly in a position to be moving any sort of first-kiss bar since the boyfriend wouldn’t likely approve. Maybe I should cut him off from my lips for a week and make him do it all over again. This time as we’re decorating the Christmas tree, Nat King Cole will play in the background and I’ll fall off the ladder I’m using to place the star on top, right into his arms and he will kiss me ever so softly as we laugh in the twinkling lights. Yep. That’s how I want my spontaneous next first kiss to happen.