Sharing A Bed With My Ex
Breaking up without breaking a lease keeps two ex-lovers in one apartment.
"You're doing what?"
I heard that a lot in the spring of 2007, whenever I explained to friends that I had broken up with my Nathan, boyfriend of four years, yet we were still living together in the apartment we'd shared for the last two. It was a temporary matter, I'd say, a situation that would last about a month or two, until we found our own places.
It turned out to be about six. And they were strange times. Even now, more than a year later, I'm in awe that we didn't manage to kill each other. Even stranger: by the time we parted ways and even to this day, we've managed to stay friends.
A "friendly breakup" sounds good in theory. The term is an oxymoron, something I always regarded with skepticism whenever friends would lay claim to it. After a breakup, the instinct is to get as far away from that person as possible. Maybe with enough distance, you'll remember what attracted you to each other in the first place, maybe even a lesson that validates the relationship. In time, perhaps you'll even start to like them again. But let's all agree: there's nothing friendly about breakups.
Indeed, during the first few days our interactions were definitively awkward; it became apparent that the breakup was for real. On the first night, coming home to Nathan on the sofa watching TV, I made a beeline for the bathroom and sat in the claw-foot tub. When it came time to go to sleep, I recall Nathan and I briefly negotiating who should sleep where. "I'm not the one who wanted to break up," he smiled, implying that technically, the couch was the bed I had made for myself when I ended the relationship.
Still, I didn't hate him enough to necessitate sleeping in another room, and sleeping on the couch seemed sadder than the breakup itself. Friends offered their own couches, but I politely refused. Having aged beyond my hardy twenties, I knew a stiff neck and cranky mood would weary me into conciliation. "I don't know how you do it, man," Nathan's friend, Ben, told him. "I'd be a baby about the whole thing. A baby!"
It was hard not to be. The apartment, once a haven, became a purgatory of sorts—a circle in hell assigned to decision makers without a plan B, where air hangs heavy and faults are magnified. You become exponentially sensitive to minuscule matters and so are prone to reading too much into things. Picayune matters—who rightly owned the Aerobed or the copy of Gravity's Rainbow—were argued with a stubbornness never before exhibited during our time together. Domestic misdemeanors—leaving jackets on the sofa or putting off doing the dishes—suddenly represented Everything That Was Wrong With the Relationship. Once best friends, Nathan and I regarded each other with a newfound wariness. Light banter, always easy to come by to fill the empty moments, felt inappropriate and forced. Evasion became de rigueur. We worked a little later than usual or took up offers to hang out with friends. Valentine's Day came and went. We both steered clear of the apartment.
Discussion
Wow, I'm on board there mclv. You guys need to chill. This is a past event that I imagine has had TREMENDOUS benefits to both of them. There isn't just one type of love, one way to love someone. They took their chance at a relationship and discovered that they have a really loving friendship. It happens. I give these two huge kudos for what they did. Circumstance dictated that they stay living together, and eventually they chose to work through the issues. Yes, they rediscovered why they fell for each other in the first place, but they also cemented the reasons they couldn't stay together. That is real love, not some sappy, selfish,, silver screen love that denies reality. There is still love there, but it has evolved into something else. If they chose to try again, despite knowing why they won't ultimately work together, then it becomes selfish and self-sabotaging. Sometimes, when you really love someone, you understand that no matter what you do or what you try, things may not always work out. Love just isn't always enough. When you truly do love that person, when it isn't selfish and you understand that eventually one of your needs won't be met, and not just base needs but something really important like your dreams, you understand that holding on is just selfish and will only cause pain down the road. You understand that those wants will only hold the other person back, or yourself, from what you realy want despite your best intentions. Your only choice is to let them go because you love them...really love them.
Only once so far have I been with someone that I said to myself in all honesty, in a simple but all powerful knowing akin to knowing that fire burns, that I could marry her and be completely happy. I was there, and I know she wanted to be there, but she wasn't there yet. Her dreams of what she wanted to become, and her past issues that she was finally ready to address, were in the way of what I wanted. I had to let her go when she asked me to, and by letting her go I cut nearly all ties with her, which pained me like you wouldn't believe. I did it because I know that she is a serial monogamist. She hadn't spent more than a month single since she became sexually active. Now she was ready to begin her relationship with herself. There were nights that we almost did go back home together, that I could have had that bittersweet moment...but I knew it would unravel everything she was trying to do. We are still good friends. She is now in Australia, living her dream. Yes, she is with someone else, someone who is great for her. And, in all honesty (and why would I lie to you all, none of you know me personally) I am truly happy for her. I know that I could have kept her here, kept her from the life that she dreamed of having. That isn't how I choose to love someone. I choose for my love to help someone be free to do all that they dream...not be bound by my desires.
Why are people so judgmental? As if this is what she is doing right now? It was something that happened, she cannot change, and maybe she learned from it. as for "Do you know how many men end up overweight, miserable and boring beyond repair? Sounds like a perfectly good answer to me." The point was possibly that he didn't see her in his future. He only had an image of himself 20 years down the road. Of course it's not a good answer if you're thinking about marrying someone. Or even just maintaining a relationship with someone.
I don't think i (or most people) ever could have done this. If you really love someone, but know you shouldn't be together, living together isn't going to help you move on. And what would have happened if one of you met "the one" during that time? Maybe you did and missed out because you were too busy being "best friends" with your ex.
