I still have at least four days a month where I feel a burning hatred over my longest and most intense relationship in my life. I keep it like a used tissue at the bottom of my purse, and on these days, when obsessive-Kate rears her ugly head at having to face, soberly, a reality that is more than less than functional, I take out that dirty tissue and wave it disgustingly in someone's face.
Although I have become less of a psychopath about giving my heart a good thrashing with love's cat-o'-nine-tails, it doesn't seem that I have yet been able to throw away this nasty bit of pain. I make excuses to myself and to others about why healing is taking so long - I have had many difficult 'becoming an adult' moments lately, and haven't had time to isolate this one and overthink myself into numbing the nerves my breakup excited; it's impossible to avoid him on such a small campus, and with us sharing so many friends, there is no other solution but to remain friendly even though seeing him is like chewing on bits of glass and trying to smile without showing the blood; I heard from a friend of a friend that it takes at least a third of the time you spent in a relationship to 'get over' a person - the list of excuses goes on and on.
In reality, I am ashamed and embarrassed that I am still affected by something I should have been able to close the door on months ago. My pride roars on these painful four days, leaving me crying about my many inadequacies, idiosyncrasies, and instabilities.
What should I do? I should have said, "fuck you, you don't know what you're missing and perhaps eight years from now when you're still single and I am a successful writer-geisha-newyorkian-self-actualized-serene-sex-goddess-with-a-husband-ten-thousand-times smarter- funnier-and-more-gorgeous-than-you, you'll realize what an earth-shattering mistake you made. Too bad God can't just come down and smack you around a little bit now. Pity." But after such an intense rejection, I crave some sign of acceptance.
The worst part is no matter how hard I try, I can't hate him.
So I go on dates. I hate dates. I only went on one pre-relationship date in my entire life up until March, and that one sucked, too. I don't know who came up with dating as a ritual, but it's basically a tidy business transaction for otherwise taboo and untidy mating habits. Although I'd love to do away with this crazy and ineffective ritual, social anthropology holds trump.
One, cut a hole in the box...
And the worst part is I am currently surrounded by Pips, and have great expectations for success, but apparently this Estella lost her candle and the moths no longer flock to the flame. (I felt like a grossly overexaggerated reference to Dickens was post-appropriate. Hey, you'd find no worse in Cosmopolitan. At least here you don't have to pay $4.50 for shitty witticisms.) Everyone seems to be at a point in their life where they don't want to start something new because they're about to leave.
And to admit, that includes me. I think part of my not having any success is because I'm only half-heartedly trying. I know in a year I may be 99 miles away, or 3,571 miles away. I might be in grad school, I might be teaching little Japanese children. I won't have any money, that's for certain. So why should I try and shove a love-life into the mix?
So, I keep half-heartedly going on dates. I half-heartedly show an interest in half-interesting individuals. I half-heartedly maintain a friendship that is rapidly descending into a vapid hole of failure and rejection.
So I promise my next post will be slightly more enlightening. For now, I'm just having my second time of the month.
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2 comments:
Oh darling Kate. I feel like warning you that the feeling never goes away, the chewing on glass feeling, although it might become less frequent, especially with the increase of miles between the two of you. And I also wonder about the timing issue. What is good timing? As for dating, I think of it as something that says "look, i'm still trying". Obviously, most of us know from the minute we lose the ability to use 99% of our brain in someone's presence whether its really worth the time. And even then we're only about 2% right, so the whole dating thing is basically ridiculous.
And I have no doubt that in ten years you will be as fabulous as you foresee, although hopefully by then you will think much more about yourself than about him, and he won't know that you're still chewing glass although any girl I've ever talked to whose ever been in love has told me the same thing, the feeling may lessen a little, but really it never completely goes away.
I wish you luck in getting through the weeks.
Two things:
1. This is beautifully written, and says a lot of things I wish I had said — especially the part about dating. It is SO strange and pointless and by nature half-hearted. If you like someone, you know, and no amount of awkward cups of coffee or glasses of wine will make that happen.
2. Your life will be very long and there will be many men before the right one, if there is a right one, and this will be a "first" but it won't be the last/only such chapter. And this will hurt and things that haven't happened yet will hurt and the myth of complete recovery will never come true, probably; you're too smart for that. But you're always going to be you, and have that unique sense of life, so you'll be okay. You really will. There's nothing standing between your daydreams and you but a little effort and a little courage. You have what you need.
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