One month after I ended my relationship, I went to see Esther Perel speak at the 92nd Street Y. She polled the audience, as she always does, asking, “How many of you are in a relationship or married?” For the first time in a long time, this wasn’t me. Then she asked, “How many of you are single?” As I raised my hand, a tear ran down my face.
I felt vulnerable. It seemed so official. This may seem overly dramatic, but if you’ve ever de-partnered from a long-term relationship, you will know that it is a trauma that requires a major dose of deprogramming.
Breakups, even when self-inflicted, are like undergoing open heart surgery. Nothing prepares you for this type of loss. Culturally, we don’t hold space for the complexities of a relationship’s ending.
Whether family, friend, or partner, we don’t acknowledge or honor the depth of such losses. After an ending, getting closure and moving on become the primary focus. Let’s talk about rom-coms for a sec.
Romantic comedies often depict a straight woman in the “getting back to me” phase, with men being portrayed as less emotionally complex. The narrative typically involves the woman’s taking time for herself, going on a trip, dating again, or experiencing some wacky misadventures before meeting her next partner. Alternatively, she may end up living happily ever after, but alone, in a state of self-acceptance, independence, and strength.
Welp. It’s a wonderful fantasy, but it isn’t reality. I was not prepa.
