My most recent ex got married over the weekend and I found out through Instagram. (That came out more stalkerishly than I intended). Is it time for an ex story? I think it’s time for an ex story.
We dated for years and found ourselves in the predictable rut of ignoring each other in favor of our computer screens, having the same arguments about household chores (groceries, cleaning, sex). After a year or two of this, I found the stamina to follow through with a breakup. He didn’t want to, but only because it’d be a hassle to find a replacement and not be lonely. Not because he was happy. Neither of us was.
I assured him he wouldn’t be too lonely because we could still be friends. All of the things we argued about would be non-issues in a friendship. For a while, we did that, and we discovered we were better as friends. Then he got serious about replacing me and we didn’t see each other again once he found his next girlfriend. He married her recently.
Don’t be concerned. This post isn’t about me wishing that was me. We had a relationship that we ran into the ground. There was nothing left in it that could be called romance. All that remained was fear of the unknown and habit (and depression, resentment, indifference, but let’s not get into that).
The part I am sad about is the loss of friendship. I was never the one who thought “I can’t be without this person.” I wanted to cleanly excise the bad aspects of our relationship and keep what remained: an intelligent conversationalist, a kind heart, a board game and bridge player. Someone who would laugh at my bad jokes.
Maybe it’s a part of growing up to realize that things don’t work that way. Or maybe the lesson here is that there is a set of people that is too interesting to risk losing after dating ends. The sex isn’t worth the eventual loss.