Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Yesterday, I broke off a relationship that wasn’t working.

Not too revolutionary, you may be thinking, but I am one of those girls who generally clings to the sinking wreckage of a relationship. I do this right until the point where there is nothing left and then dive under the surface, convinced that I can find it and transport it back to the surface where clinging can resume.

‘Girl power’ doesn’t quite cover it. Girls are more likely to glower when they hear about my irrational approach to men.

But it’s not about feminism and it’s not about self-respect, it’s all about romanticism. Every man, no matter how flawed, has beauty to them. And if the man’s beauty is so apparent that you would bestow your maidenly body upon them then they’re pretty damn beautiful. And the thing about beauty is that, whatever it’s toxic side effects, it can be a tremendous solace when other things in your life are fucked – and unless you’re pretty lucky – there’s got to be stuff in your life that’s fucked.

So why did I revert from form and break it off with this beautiful man?

It relates to another thing I never thought I’d do which is to think about the future. Once you realise that your current age isn’t the beginning and end of your horizons then you have to think about whether your course is set to drifter or trooper. Unfortunately, it’s quite like driftwood to attach to men who don’t care about where you want to go. It undermines those places to revere someone who would see them disappear from view without batting an eyelash.

And conversely, you have to be a trooper to decide you want progression more than you want the beautiful distractions by the side of the road.

So goodbye my darling, you are the most beautiful man to date but I have something important to do. If it all goes wrong, you may find me like an Orpheus of dead relationships haunting the underworld in search of you.

Image by Lynt courtesy of Flickr

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