Forgive. And Forget?

Did you ever have the chance to re-do a break-up? I don’t mean reverse the decision, pretend it never happened, or reenact for friends as a farce or melancholy kabuki. I mean did you ever reconnect with an ex, only to find yourself not long after rehashing the same arguments you had that lead to the death of your relationship? Now, I know this may not sound strange, people fight for years with their exes over the same things: petty differences, indiscretions, and broken promises. But I imagine that usually when these fights occur neither party expected them to play out to a different conclusion, or at least expected some hot make-up/break-up sex to follow. I feel stupid, because I thought that maybe things would be different, and didn’t even necessarily think it would mean a reward in the bedroom.

When I moved to New York I was determined to set out on my own, try new things, meet new people, and explore this city that I’d felt destined to reside in. And I did do all of those things. I made new friends, got a job, explored more parts of the city and surrounding boroughs than I thought possible, but I also settled back into an old routine. The routine consisted of attaching myself to a gay clique or chosen partner in crime for weekend and often weeknight revelry, while reserving my time with the girls for special occasions, shopping, and brunches.

What I eventually came to realize is that my life closely mirrored my life in college, only with a 9-5 work schedule which, unlike college’s afternoon naps and late morning starts, left only my nights and weekends free to unwind. Superficial friends and regretful nights, piled on top of the rigors of scaling the corporate ladder all began to make me feel like I was living two lives.

I didn’t feel like an up and coming publishing professional when I was out with my friends at night, which isn’t a bad thing, business casual and blackberries should definitely stay at the office, but I felt like in either setting I could only be one person or the other: a consummate professional in the office and a party animal outside. But in our present age our identity is so tightly wound together it is nearly impossible to separate the public and the personal, the private from the professional. Our online profiles may not go into the details of our positions, but to potential employers, and current colleagues, they represent who we are as people. I felt like a poseur when I would go out with some of my friends. All talk of work was tabled from pre-game forward, at which point it was merely a marathon of substance abuse until last man standing. That’s when I finally decided to step back from the race. When the competitors all played dirty, it suddenly didn’t seem so fun. I wanted to spend my leisure with others who shared my ambition, interests, and talents, and even if it the end result of inebriation was the same, at least the playing field was level. It’s a lot more fun to feel like a whole person at all times, and it’s a lot easier when the players in both arenas are often the same.

So who, after under going this kind of transformation, wouldn’t think that his or her ex would be able to see how much they’ve changed? Wasn’t I right to assume that if two of his chief complaints were my immaturity and uncouth friends, that he should now gaze upon with new eyes and awe? I guess not, because the truth is that friends may be an indicator of whom we are as a person and he was right to judge me by the company I kept, but trading in old cliques for new does not necessarily guarantee growth. After all a plant, once transferred, does not immediately flourish in a new or larger pot. Perhaps the drastic steps I perceived myself to be making were only minor in his eyes.

Then again, it is not also fair to assume that I should shoulder all the blame for our stunted reconciliation. It takes two to tango and if a relationship that once failed is to ever work both parties need to change, grow, sacrifice, etc. He may have made the initial overtures to reconnecting but it was clear that it was to be on his terms, for his amusement perhaps, or merely cross one thing off his conscience. And though small traces of change are evident, he is every bit the boy I fell for, for better or worse.

Therein lays the problem. Yes, people can change, but people are people. We fall in love with their attributes and faults. We can show off our improvements as much as we want but sometimes if those nagging faults still dominate our personality or appearance, it may have all been for wont. So what are we to do? Spend another period mourning? No. A corpse cannot be killed twice, so I am personally outlawing any drama stemming from an abortive attempt at rekindling a flame, call it double jeopardy.

And though your friends will tell you that he’s an asshole and not worth your time, we know that only makes us feel even more worthless and pathetic for wearing our hearts on our sleeve for him. So I say make a list of everything you loved or liked about him, so you know you weren’t crazy for doing so. He may have not been the one for you, but at least you’ll have a partial list of traits to look for in the next boy who steals you heart. Who knows, if he’s worth it, he will only require you to re-enact the first time you made love, not broke up.

Originally posted on 12/17/08 on homo-neurotic.com