A friend lamented to me and my frosty beverage about struggles with her man. Good listener was I. Good listener was bartender too. She piled on some lament of her own, announcing her recent separation from Tyrannosaurus Ex.
My heart leaped with joy! More available women means more vacant parking spaces for my love.
“It seems so many of my friends are going through this. I wonder why? Does it have something to do with summer ending?” she asked.
“Sweetie, relationships end—that’s what they do. You don’t go around asking why people are dying.”
See, she’s looking at it as a failure. When anything ends before expected (see No Country for Old Men), it causes angst. Adventures should not be judged solely by length and destination. All that leads to the inevitable is what should be valued and cherished (see No Country for Old Men).
I’ve had plenty of short relationships. Some of those ended on not the kindest of terms. Meh. I concentrate on the enjoyment of the drunken one-night-slamfest more than her hasty exit sans phone number on the nightstand. I’ve also had long relationships with sad, but amicable conclusions. Again, meh.
Goddamned Christian guilt rears its ugly head too often. “Divorce is a sin.” Bullshit, pontiff. Staying in an unfulfilling or abusive relationship because you’re afraid of eternal damnation is horribly cruel, and it does a disservice to humanity by keeping your wonderfulness from a more deserving lover (who will eventually leave too, so deal with it).
When your relationship trip is finally done, and you’ve unpackaged your baggage, look back at it with glee and appreciation. (Might be a good idea to hide all those Facebook and Instagram photos of you two lovebirds. Ew.) Here’s the key, though: As soon as possible, start planning your next trip. This means get your fucking act together (have your hair did, clothes re-did, etc.), and put yourself back out on the singles platform. If that means Tindering, go for it, and set low expectations. Do whatever it takes to find a travel partner who will enhance your trip in some way. If Mr. Next eerily resembles Mr. Ex in looks or manner, say, “Thanks, but no, thanks,” and keep looking.
Oh, another thing—rebound sex. Dayum, yo! That can be some fun shit right there I tell ya. Well, yes, it can suck too, but we’re remaining positive. Sex with Mr. Next may be somewhat awkward the first few times, but I’d take awkward over pedestrian any day. Heck, at least the new guy will go down on you for a while. Who couldn’t use a fresh licking?
So, yes, relationships die like snails on the pavement. Expect it, don’t let it get you down for long, and concentrate on the ride, not the goo left by the splattered snail.
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