And an End

You know what they say, “all good things…” and alas the same is true for relationships.  Not trying to shit on Toby’s optimism, just figured I’d talk about the other side of the coin.  Whether you both live long and happy lives and are ripped away from each other by cancer, a wayward bus, or a ham sandwich the fact of the matter is it ends someday (too morbid? What can I say?).  The “how we met” stories might be more uplifting and positive but the break-up stories are always much more interesting, especially if it was a particularly harrowing or toxic relationship or set of circumstances that tore the lovers apart.  Seeing things crash and burn may not be pretty, but it’s always entertaining to hear about the crazed now ex-girlfriend throwing hairdryers, books, and whatever else she can get her hands on at the now ex-boyfriend who was caught messing around with his co-worker or the girl from down the block.

Now the reason that I think the break-up stories are always more interesting is because it’s at the end of the relationship where the real personalities shine through and you truly get to see what the other person is made of.  Let’s face it, almost nobody is their real self in the beginning since they’re too worried about being the person that they hope the other will like in a potentially vain attempt to try to get them to love the person that they actually are (or someone closer to that person) at some unspecified point down the road.  It’s just how things go.  Dudes are worried about courting, getting laid, or whatever so he’s not going to open with the fact that his last eight relationships failed because he cheated and that he has no qualms with casual racism and finishing the milk without trashing the carton (that’ll cause a problem down the road, I’m sure) and chicks are all hopped up on the idea that “this might be it” that she’s not going to disclose that she had a bad rep at her last job for giving blowies to all the dudes during break and that she’ll never let you watch the whole football game because “it’s stupid and not important.”  No, people have to hide their real selves for six months, maybe more while they gallivant through the temporarily-eternal bliss of the “honeymoon period,” hoping that if they reveal the real them in small enough doses along the way that they’ll be accepted and loved for the semi-bullshit persona that they’ve been masquerading as for the past half-year.  The crazier part about all of this is that sometimes it works out well enough that people decide to stick with that person for what they hope to be the rest of their time on this planet.  Marriages end in divorce something like 50 percent of the time and I’m sure for a good portion of them the reason is because they didn’t figure this shit out soon enough.  This all comes down to the fact that people suck and the smart ones know they do and that they have shitty parts to themselves besides their assholes.  We all have these shitty parts, so don’t feel badly if you were, which back to my original point is why the break up is the best, since you get to see the true, uncut shittiness in all of it’s glory and on display for all to see.

I’m sorry if I’ve just shit on whatever notions of love, commitment, companionship and the like you might have had but this isn’t something to be upset over since in actuality it’s a lot of fun.  In the beginning you might have fun going to TCBY and splitting a double cone while you watch the sunset from the park but it’s at the end where you figure out who the schemers, manipulators, and just flat out crummy people are.  You get to see the liars, cheaters, skanks, pill-poppers, acid droppers, frauds, baby stealers, drink drinkers, mom rapers, dad rappers, family hiders, and just the plain old weird and creepy.  The story of how it went down might be fun and all, sure maybe there was some epic fight where she catches you in some kind of lie, you try to shimmy your way out of it but she knows all of your online passwords and you were dumb enough to email Tatiana for sex on your personal Gmail account or through Facebook messages so now you’re really fucked but probably not going to get fucked yet you’re convinced there’s still some way to turn this whole thing around in your favor but honestly, things are looking bleak at the moment.  You show up to see her, she immediately starts screaming and crying, which oddly makes you angry, not at her but at yourself since you were arrogant enough to think you could pull this off without a hitch without taking the proper precautions.  She says something personal like “I hope Tatiana loves fucking you and your tiny dick” which hurts because you were already wondering if your dick was tiny.  Your vision goes red and you try to stop it but all efforts are futile.  You try to come up with something personal that’ll bring her down but you can’t because you know if she started slobbing on your knob or riding you like turkey you’d take it, because lets face it you want sex, so you end up just calling her a dumb twat which of course enrages her so she just starts throwing whatever she can get her hands on at you and you just take it because in actually it’s you that’s the dumb twat.  I could keep going in this scenario but you hopefully get the point by now.

You’re probably thinking “upside, there’s gotta be an upside!” and don’t fret because there is, and it’s that you get to walk away from this shitty experience with the knowledge that you are, in fact a very bad person (or at least a terrible boyfriend).  Knowledge is power or something like that.  So what can you do about this?  Well if you’re going for that whole “self-betterment” thing you might take all of this and say “you know what, I can avoid these mistakes the next time and be a more caring, more attentive individual,” or you can join the rest of us terrible shits and decide “fuck, I better change my email password next time.”

 

C.A.

 

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