You Know, Like the River in Egypt

So I’ve been thinking a lot these days about Love and Relationships because, well, I’m not IN either of them. It’s the No Boyfriend in 2008 pact, and I’ve hung onto my “single” status on Facebook for over two months now! This is something of a record stretch in recent years, as many of you well know. And no, the pact isn’t some girlie master cleanse because I’m SO Over Guys and I Just Need to Be on My Own for a While, it’s more like I Don’t Know Where I’m Going to Live After My Lease Ends In June. Unless divine forces intervene to bump me up from the waitlist I probably won’t be in New York City, so starting a relationship now feels a bit foolish. But you know, if the dude is really hot and fun and all-around perfect for me, the pact has a specific opt-out clause. Anyway.

The impetus for all this annoying thinking is rather simple: my ex-boyfriends are haunting me. Did the support group suggest they all seep back into my life as step 9 of the healing process? Fuck, they’re everywhere lately. They’re in my running class. They want to hang out and catch up. They’re moving back to New York and want to grab drinks. They’re in the neighborhood and how about breakfast? And I go! I agree to these olive branch excursions, the platonic lunches and the museum visits, and we have fun. Girl friend DC thinks I’m nuts, and even MomOh is skeptical about staying in contact with exes. Have I compartmentalized these relationships to the point where I can isolate the friendship quotient and drop the romantic remainders like elementary division? And is this even healthy?

I generally believe that keeping a friendship (or at the very least a friendly connection) is important whenever possible. Don’t burn bridges, you never know what the future will bring, blah blah blah. Sure, a friendship is not always possible and at the very least takes some time to establish after the heartbreak heals (ahem, R), but some of my ugliest breakups have turned into valuable friendships. There’s P – we split four years ago in what takes the cake as my messiest break up to date, but he still nails my music taste when he sends me cool new songs to check out. And T – we can still chat easily about running and triathlons and we’re genuinely happy that the other is doing well. So I’m sticking to my guns here and if it feels okay, it must be okay. Right?

Then there is this other little nagging thought, the one about missing people. See, I’m not so good at it. I have this piss-poor memory and I’m visual to a fault (seeing is believing; eyes on the prize; out of sight, out of mind; etc.). Sure, I've said "I love you" a handful of times, and in each case I believed it, meant it. But after, when the feelings fizzle and fade as they always have, doubt creeps in and I'm not so sure anymore. Was it Love or Lust or heartburn or worse, nothing at all? Maybe I've been cavalier with love, but missing someone in that can't-wait-to-throw-my-arms-around-him way, well that I'm certain about. So when I do actually miss someone, the feeling broadsides me and simply saying, “Whoa, I wish he would come back from his trip” isn’t really an adequate response. Instead I’m forced to admit to myself (ever the blind referee in the game of Emotions) that perhaps what I’m actually IN is Denial.