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muckefuckI've been thinking lately about how, when it comes to relationships, I dwell too much on my failures. Part of the problem is simply classifying relationships as "failures" in the first place. Not every relationship is meant to last; some aren't even meant to exist in the first place. So focusing on whether I'm still in contact with a particular person or whether my association with them ever took the form which I'd imagined it would is basically the wrong lens.
This is on my mind because last weekend I got together with my first boyfriend. He was in town for a journalism conference and asked me to "round up a pack of ursine types" for dim sum. I happily complied and invited several friends to join him, me, and my brother at MingHin in Streeterville. A couple people begged off due to torrential rain, but the rest of us has a great time. I was especially pleased that we ordered tripe, cuttlefish, and chicken feet and everyone at the table ate some; I don't think that's ever happened before.
In any case, it's kind of amazing to me to realise that I'm still in touch with someone I broke up with 28 years ago. In particular, I was struck by how much he still resembles the 21 year-old whose letter jacket I once wore and how clearly I could see both those elements which attracted me and those which annoyed me. He's still with the guy he met a few years after leaving me (and Chicago) and I had my own 19-year relationship, so I think it's indisputable that we did better apart than we would have together.
To go back to my simplistic dichotomy, he's a success. Even if we couldn't get together again for a couple hours of enjoyable conversation, he'd still be one, because we both learned from each other and can look back on that time without regret. Or at least not much regret: I still do feel bad about some of the things I did and said while we were together, but he's long since forgiven and forgotten so I should, too.
Seen in this light, BB is also a success. We didn't become boyfriends--and we shouldn't have, since he'd've been a rotten one, way too self-centred to satisfy my needs. But we successfully found closure for that stage of our relationship and remain friends. Even Bama Clint is a success. He turned out to be (in the words of a foaf who met him briefly) "a lying liar who lies", but the good thing is I discovered that early, maintained healthy boundaries the whole time (never letting him crash at my place for convenience, for instance), and gave him just enough rope to hang himself with. (Last week, he claimed again he wanted to see me so I called his bluff and left it up to him to set up a rendezvous; as expected, he didn't and I can walk away now satisfied that I've given things a fair chance and am better off without him around.)
Now if I could just have the kind of success which results in me having someone to cuddle with regularly...
This is on my mind because last weekend I got together with my first boyfriend. He was in town for a journalism conference and asked me to "round up a pack of ursine types" for dim sum. I happily complied and invited several friends to join him, me, and my brother at MingHin in Streeterville. A couple people begged off due to torrential rain, but the rest of us has a great time. I was especially pleased that we ordered tripe, cuttlefish, and chicken feet and everyone at the table ate some; I don't think that's ever happened before.
In any case, it's kind of amazing to me to realise that I'm still in touch with someone I broke up with 28 years ago. In particular, I was struck by how much he still resembles the 21 year-old whose letter jacket I once wore and how clearly I could see both those elements which attracted me and those which annoyed me. He's still with the guy he met a few years after leaving me (and Chicago) and I had my own 19-year relationship, so I think it's indisputable that we did better apart than we would have together.
To go back to my simplistic dichotomy, he's a success. Even if we couldn't get together again for a couple hours of enjoyable conversation, he'd still be one, because we both learned from each other and can look back on that time without regret. Or at least not much regret: I still do feel bad about some of the things I did and said while we were together, but he's long since forgiven and forgotten so I should, too.
Seen in this light, BB is also a success. We didn't become boyfriends--and we shouldn't have, since he'd've been a rotten one, way too self-centred to satisfy my needs. But we successfully found closure for that stage of our relationship and remain friends. Even Bama Clint is a success. He turned out to be (in the words of a foaf who met him briefly) "a lying liar who lies", but the good thing is I discovered that early, maintained healthy boundaries the whole time (never letting him crash at my place for convenience, for instance), and gave him just enough rope to hang himself with. (Last week, he claimed again he wanted to see me so I called his bluff and left it up to him to set up a rendezvous; as expected, he didn't and I can walk away now satisfied that I've given things a fair chance and am better off without him around.)
Now if I could just have the kind of success which results in me having someone to cuddle with regularly...
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