Posted in Deep deepness, Humor, Life Musings

It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken.

If you clicked on this from my fbook page, I bet you were expecting to get linked over to my book review site. Whoops. Guess I tricked youuuu…

I do like that book, though, it’s mildly hilarious. But I don’t like the flavor ice cream they posted on the cover. I much prefer green tea, thank you very much.


Still, this isn’t about the book or my strange taste in ice cream.

And really, it’s not about a break up.

It’s more about my problems with break ups, aka my inability to complete them.

As you’ll soon learn, I like to analyze things about myself. And so of course I tried to figure out why my best laid plans just aren’t working out that well when it comes to break ups. I came up with two very simple reasons:

  1. I’ve never had a legit enough romantic relationship to require an actual break up with feelings, just messy friendship break ups.
  2. I don’t like being the bitch.

Okay, so #1: I feel that’s legit. I mean, yes, I’ve terminated dating relationships, but early, early on. I’m kind of picky. I mean…if you can’t play tennis in the rain or let me go to the movies with a guy friend sans jealousy, then you’ve got to go. Also, if you make fun of me for liking to sing in the shower, we have no future. It’ll become a point of contention. An ugly one. And so I just cut them off ASAP, because why waste my time getting attached to someone who just isn’t right?

But because of this little…choice-making strategy of mine, I haven’t had a long-term relationship. Or a medium-term one, either. Eh. I’m not too worried. I’m young.

And so, the only break ups that exist in my world (that matter, anyway) are the platonic kind. And they’re almost always with girls…or girly men. So they’re INCREDIBLY messy. Like babysitting quints messy. Ugh. Maybe if I’d let myself break a few man-hearts, then breaking the female ones wouldn’t be so hard?

I’d like to think that’s true…but then I run into #2.

I hate being the bitch. Not a bitch, I’m cool with that. Because that implies that I’m not the only one. But when you’re the bitch, it is what it is. All you.

And when you’re sitting there, or standing there, or screaming over the phone there, “I really don’t think this is working out…” it totally is all you. And you have to deal with that.

I so can’t.

I think, “Oh, God, I’m making a mistake…I don’t want to hurt their feelings…really, this is all my fault…” and I chicken out. I back down. I tell them I’m being stupid or emotional or whatever. Because, you know, I’m a girl and a people-pleaser at that.

See, what I need to remember here is that there’s a reason I feel like breaking up with someone, friend or otherwise. A reason that my whole being is screaming “I’m done.” And yeah, it’s always something different when you get into specifics, but really, it all boils down to just one thing.

Because I just don’t see a future in it. Whether I consciously realize it or not, a part of me knows that the only thing on the horizon is hurt.

But it never seems to stick when I want it to…which is usually just more painful than it originally was. But don’t worry, there’s an upside to my break up failure.

The happy ending to my non-break ups is this: sometimes I’m wrong. 

About a year ago, I (consciously, might I point out) decided that I was done with one of my friends. So I sat this person down and told her so. I gave my reasons, I was blunt, I cried…I did everything that girls are supposed to do during a break up of any sorts. Only…she said no.

I was stumped. I couldn’t figure it out. What did she mean she would still be my friend?

That’s not how it works…you can’t say that when all you ever were was friends. That’s what’s ending, right? Apparently not, as I discovered.

So she left, upset but stubborn and I stayed, confused. I also have to admit that it made me even more terrified of marriage, because does this mean if I get married, decide I’m over it, and ask for a divorce, my husband can just say “Nope.”?

So glad I’m not into the serious romantic relationship thing.

But anyway, the point to this story is that she didn’t let me give up on the friendship. She took a step back while also somehow taking a step forward, in some magical twist of friendship. A few months later, somehow, we were back to where we should be and I’m wondering what the fuck my problem was, anyway.

And here we are, a year later, and she’s the one sitting across from me, like we never had that blip in friendship, telling me that I deserve to be treated better than I’m being right now. That it’s time for me to give up on at least one of my friendships, if not the other.

And I know that in this case, she’s right. And I’m still wrong. And maybe I DO need to break out my break up book. Because at least one of my friendships is broken.

But for now, I’m going to try to finagle the step-back/step-forward thing and see what happens. And spend a little more time with my solid friends, being ridiculous and 24 and happy. That’s what life is about, right?



We seek to learn, and when academics do not present the answers, we look inside our own beautiful imaginations for the key.

2 thoughts on “It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s