OK, Cupid. You took my love away. But then why are my parents still friends with her?
If you were graced with a set of parents who are chill as those blue ice packs they put in your lunch box, then chances are your friends, boyfriends, and girlfriends think so too.
I love my ma and pa. They are supportive, encouraging, understanding and welcome every new nincompoop I drag into my dating life. I know I sound like I am running for a Republican Senate seat when I say it, but family really is important to me. If you can’t listen to my dad explain his latest home improvement project or help my mom finish a bottle of prosecco, it probably isn’t going to work out between us.
The thing is, when my relationships reach their inevitable end, some of us have trouble detaching ourselves from the heartbreaker du jour — “some of us” being my well-meaning, golden-hearted, down-to-hang parents. And, honestly, it sucks ass.
I gave up on the idea that people could be friends with their exes around the time I gave up not drinking on weekdays: around my 21st birthday.
In my experience, one of three things are happening when you try to stay friends: Either you are hoping you will get back together, he is hoping you will get back together, or neither of you have found someone else to sleep with yet. It just rarely ever works out.
My parents, however, don’t give two shits if we get back together because they have just made a lifelong friend, no matter my marital status.
Up until recently, this hadn’t really bothered me. I knew where I stood with my exes. I knew who they were dating now, and the approximate percentage to which they loved the new person more than me. My mom was welcome to hug them and squeal a little when she saw them in public, and my dad continued to invite them to smoke weed with him on the side of the garage.
But then I got dumped — again. My mother was patching up my wounds over mojitos when she mentioned she still hadn’t been to that new bar where so-and-so worked. Not one to deny a free drink, I acquiesced.
We were mere sips into our cocktails when, of course, the topic of future plans came up. Turns out that breaking up with me will launch you into the great phase of your adult life. I am considering seeking out oncology researchers with commitment issues because, after dropping me, they might just cure cancer.
It was in the middle of hearing plans about cross-country moves and cohabitating that I had to excuse myself to the restroom. I didn’t really need to pee, except for in that way that I always need to pee: I just had to get the fuck away from a conversation that was delighting my mother and breaking my heart.
To love someone, truly, is to wish for them complete happiness. I wish no ill will toward my former lovers. I want their lives to be full and sweet. But, at that moment, I really wanted to be the one with great plans for both me and my partner. I wanted to be the one my mom couldn’t be happier for, not the one whose fractured heart she was helping fill with rum and coconut milk.
It was a petty, selfish, bratty feeling to have. When I tried to relay the story to my friend, my despair didn’t translate. I was a real turd about the whole thing, and I didn’t want to admit it.
The thing is, I need to start switching my focus. Shockingly, everything isn’t always about me. I know I have a lot more growing to do in this area, but in the meantime, here is my general gameplan:
Let go of labels
Boyfriend, ex, friend, brother. OK, pay attention to that last one, but the others need to go far away. Labels are not contracts; they do not bind this person to you in a single specific way. Instead, find out what it is you get out of a relationship and what it is you appreciate about that person. Focusing on who you are together, not what you are together, allows a lot of bullshit to float on by.
Tell ‘em what you want, what you really, really, want
I often find myself fucking myself over because I just can’t express what it is I want. After a breakup, take five minutes to tell each other what you expect from the relationship. Please, do not be so naive to think that you will never, ever speak to each other again. In our tiny-ass state, you will have no choice but to run into former lovers. Set up some boundaries, and reassess those boundaries when you need to.
Hello, Mudda. Hello, Fadda.
Obviously, the first thing I need to do is set up some of those boundaries I was just touting above with my own parents. Parents are hard. You love them. You don’t want to disappoint them. But they’re also the humans most responsible for your character flaws and neuroses. I know that, in the future, I’m going try to keep a little distance between my dating life and my family.
I will also be working on keeping a little distance between my feelings and shots of cheap tequila.
