There’s this (amazing) song on the soundtrack to the (terrible) movie “The Romantics” called “We Can’t Be Friends” by Lenore Scafaria. My favorite lyrics go:
“I want to wear a skirt, I want to make mistakes,
I want to kill you first and then take your name,
I want to tear you apart, I want to make your bed,
I wanna break your heart, I want to break your head,
I guess this means we can’t be friends.”
In the days, weeks and months following a big breakup, I listened to this song on repeat. Every word of it spoke to me (especially the part about breaking his head). We’d said to each other on our first date, moony-eyed, that even if this didn’t grow into anything, we should still be friends.
Two years later, it couldn’t be more obvious that we could not be friends. My friends don’t sneak around behind my back. My friends don’t email me lists of the things they don’t like about me. My friends don’t threaten to throw out my stuff. There’s a hell of a lot of things my ex-boyfriend did that I wouldn’t stand for if one of my girl or guy friends were to do them. Why should I make concessions for acting like a d**k just because we had been in a romantic relationship together? What would that prove?
This cropped up again recently when a guy I’d been going on dates with for about a month ended it with me. Hormones, as I’ll call him, said he didn’t have strong enough romantic feelings or see long-term potential for us. Yadda yadda yadda. That is fine. I understand. I appreciate that he was honest about it. But then Hormones told me that he hoped we could be friends. Keep reading »
I made decision when I was a young adult on the kind of regrets I’d try to have: I want to regret only the things I did do, not the things I didn’t. So far it’s worked out just as I’ve hoped. I have never had to look back and wish I had fallen deeply in love, or traveled around Europe when I was young, or quit a steady job to freelance write fulltime, because I’ve done all of those things. I’m proud that I have very few regrets about things in my life I have done — very, very few, like, I’m struggling to think of examples now. But as each month brings more and more distance between myself and a devastating heartbreak I suffered with the guy I wanted to spend my life with, one regret is becoming pronounced. I look back now and I’m not proud of all the small compromises that I made for him without, I think, getting as much as I should have in return. Keep reading »
I met Omar* at a New Year’s Eve party shortly after graduating college. He was 6’2″ and built with dark brown eyes and black wavy hair that fell below his ears. I was a 5’2″ chubby bookworm who had recently lost her virginity and was tired of being single and inexperienced.
We hit it off immediately because of our love for going out dancing and the exact same taste in TV shows. Fueled by alcohol and a newfound sense of adventure, I jumped into bed with him that night. The next day, after talking for 12 hours straight, he told me that he wanted to be together. I thought, Okay, maybe this guy can be my Starter Boyfriend. Keep reading »
“My greatest mistake right now is, I’ve been clinging to my art. In that, I have victory for my art and a great loss for my heart. At the moment, my beautiful fiancee is no longer my beautiful fiancee. … Two halves don’t make a whole. Two wholes make a whole. In my relationship, I was giving myself away to make the relationship better, but in actuality, wasn’t doing better by doing that. I became less of a man. … We are still super friends, we go to yoga together, we surf together. We acknowledge the journey that each of us is on. We certainly want each of us to feel whole and complete. And it’s when you’re whole and complete that that attraction exists and it really thrives.”
– Jason Mraz, the singer behind “I’m Yours,” told The Daily Beast that Tristan Prettyman is no longer his fiancee. While it’s refreshing to see a famous person deviate from the robotic “We have made the mutual decision to end our relationship … please respect our privacy … we remain good friends” canned breakup statement, knowing that Mraz and his ex still do downward dog together and are all “shaka bra” or whatever is a bit overshare-y, no? I mean, are they sharing custody of their bong too? [The Daily Beast] Keep reading »
It’s time again for “Dear Wendy Updates,” a feature where people I’ve given advice to in the past let us know whether they followed the advice and how they’re doing today. After the jump, we hear from “Once Bitten” who began an affair with an engaged man who had already dumped her once for the woman he would later propose to. “I know that the typical advice is ‘they never leave their wife,’ but I have loved this guy since we met and keep hoping that he’ll ‘choose me.’ When I’m with him, I always tell myself that being in love with him is enough. Then he goes home and my heart breaks,” she wrote. After the jump, find out if her boyfriend indeed chose her or if she finally got the courage to leave him for good. Keep reading »
In the few months following my breakup from Mr. Ex-Jessica, if and how to couple up again has hovered in the periphery of my mind. It’s clear to me that I’m still very sore about the breakup and earning my trust will be a slow, perhaps even
Sisyphysian Sisyphean, task for a man. But still I want occasional companionship: although there’s plenty of things to enjoy about being newly single, like lots of time to read books and hang out with my girl friends, it’s also nice to have drinks and flirt with a dude sometimes. I am OK at this point with that companionship being totally casual. In fact, I think it has to be casual. I’m not ready to be in a committed relationship or to be anyone’s girlfriend so soon.
I thought I’d found someone online to casually date: he’s smart, he’s funny, he took care of me, and he understood how sore I still am from the breakup. He’s an all-around wonderful guy who would make a great boyfriend to someone. It warmed the cockles of my black, bitter heart to know that there are good single men out there. But after about six weeks or so of going on dates once or twice a week, it became clear to me that our personalities are just too different. We clashed so many times that the romantic butterflies flew away, so to speak. I wrestled with the idea of continuing to date him because, after all, it was just casual. But putting myself in his shoes, I asked if I’d want someone to keep going on dates with me even if they weren’t feeling anything anymore. I decided “no” and that I would end things with him.
But the way I finally broke up with him was just … not … good. Keep reading »