how we broke up
the world is so oddly obsessed with falling in love.
everywhere we look, in every part of society, in our books, our movies, our music, our tv shows, our conversations.
the world is obsessed with telling stories, but all stories of the same thing.
when you watch your Disney movies or you read your fairytales or watch those formulaic chick-flicks, it’s all about how they fell in love.
it’s about how guy-meets-girl, girl-meets-guy, lover-meets-lover.
how they fall head-over-heels in love, how they clamber over obstacles in their getting together, how they end up happily ever after.
how they share that final (or first) kiss with the exact angle of the sunlight creating sun spots on the camera and zooming out and panning around and around the couple.
as if they’re the only people in the world.
but there is no happily-ever-after.
that is why the movie ends.
because nobody wants to write about the arguments and the fights and the husband storming out of the house and drowning his sorrows in alcohol and the wife running off with the boss and being involved in a scandalous office affair.
they don’t mention the mess with the divorce and the arguments of who wants the kids, because honestly, THEY JUST WANT THE DAMN HOUSE.
and maybe the relationship works out for a while, until eventually the interest dies down, because let’s be honest here, nobody is going to be passionately in love with someone like that for ever and ever.
people grow old. (and wrinkly.)
and the leading man is going to look not as hot anymore, and the lady will have gained weight and developed bad eating habits, and maybe the man has been having too much cholesterol or whatever and now has bowel problems. (and bad gas.)
you will not always be in love the way you feel right now, right this instance.
and i don’t want to hear you scream BUT WE’RE IN LOVE and IT’S MEANT TO BE and WE JUST WANT TO BE TOGETHER WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT.
but the world doesn’t want to watch your relationship crash and burn. they don’t want to see the bad bits that come stuck with the shiny bits. they don’t want to see you in your marriage counseling and your arguments and your drunken fights and your crying-yourself-to-sleep.
love should not be how-we-got-together.
it should be how-we-stayed-together.
i happen to like writing about unrequited love most of all. when i count on my fingers the novels filling up the hard-drive and the dim recesses of my brain (and heart), they seem to turn back to that.
…
i wonder why?
i like to think about things like that. i like to touch upon the things that didn’t happen, that will never happen. i want to write about the people that almost touch, but never meet halfway. i want to paint pictures and weave illusions of almost-but-not-quite.
i want to write about falling out of love.
there are way too many love stories out there.
so i am going to write a love story in reverse.
this is the story of how we broke up:
so i’m a little bit like a hopeless romantic.
except without the “romantic” part.
therefore i am just a hopeless.
i think we should have known that before we started out. perhaps it was obvious from the beginning, that some people can’t click the way that puzzle pieces fit together.
not. all. neat. like. that.
but you were determined and i was naive
and my mum told me once that:
how would i know unless i gave you a chance?
but i don’t like taking chances
because we used to learn probability in maths and did you know the probability of you and i was close to zero?
so i thought i thought i thought
and i said in a tiny voice i said
“okay”
i think we did very well in pretending for a long time
well at least i was pretending.
and you were pretending that you weren’t pretending and that i was only pretending that i was pretending
Dr Phil says pretence is bad in a relationship.
everyone listens to Dr Phil.
i think i maybe liked you a little bit.
but a little bit is not enough.
because there is no equals sign between us, because the arrow between you and me is greater on your end and smaller on mine
i don’t want to be the small end on the greater-than sign.
but i thought i thought i thought
maybe we can force these puzzle pieces together until their corners are bruised and their colours come off.
and maybe i didn’t like you enough, but i liked:
your voice
your smile
your shirts with the stupid slogans on them
and i liked the ground where you stood and the places that you visited and the books that you read and the chair that you always sat on in class.
but you should know that i’m a realist.
and you’re a dreamer.
i confess that i would’ve liked to hold your hand for a little longer.
but it’s harder to pull apart paper after the glue has dried. and i don’t want to leave you full of holes.
i tried to get the words out of my throat but they got caught halfway and when they fell out they hit the ground too heavy and rush out like a tide and i’m never going to get your expression out of my mind or forget your rueful smile and the one that is probably still on mine because maybe i have ended up liking you and you have stopped liking me and maybe my greater-than sign is bigger than yours now and i-
“iamsorryandihadfunthankyouandgoodbye”
…sayonara baby.
everywhere we look, in every part of society, in our books, our movies, our music, our tv shows, our conversations.
the world is obsessed with telling stories, but all stories of the same thing.
when you watch your Disney movies or you read your fairytales or watch those formulaic chick-flicks, it’s all about how they fell in love.
it’s about how guy-meets-girl, girl-meets-guy, lover-meets-lover.
how they fall head-over-heels in love, how they clamber over obstacles in their getting together, how they end up happily ever after.
how they share that final (or first) kiss with the exact angle of the sunlight creating sun spots on the camera and zooming out and panning around and around the couple.
as if they’re the only people in the world.
but there is no happily-ever-after.
that is why the movie ends.
because nobody wants to write about the arguments and the fights and the husband storming out of the house and drowning his sorrows in alcohol and the wife running off with the boss and being involved in a scandalous office affair.
they don’t mention the mess with the divorce and the arguments of who wants the kids, because honestly, THEY JUST WANT THE DAMN HOUSE.
and maybe the relationship works out for a while, until eventually the interest dies down, because let’s be honest here, nobody is going to be passionately in love with someone like that for ever and ever.
people grow old. (and wrinkly.)
and the leading man is going to look not as hot anymore, and the lady will have gained weight and developed bad eating habits, and maybe the man has been having too much cholesterol or whatever and now has bowel problems. (and bad gas.)
you will not always be in love the way you feel right now, right this instance.
and i don’t want to hear you scream BUT WE’RE IN LOVE and IT’S MEANT TO BE and WE JUST WANT TO BE TOGETHER WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT.
but the world doesn’t want to watch your relationship crash and burn. they don’t want to see the bad bits that come stuck with the shiny bits. they don’t want to see you in your marriage counseling and your arguments and your drunken fights and your crying-yourself-to-sleep.
love should not be how-we-got-together.
it should be how-we-stayed-together.
i happen to like writing about unrequited love most of all. when i count on my fingers the novels filling up the hard-drive and the dim recesses of my brain (and heart), they seem to turn back to that.
…
i wonder why?
i like to think about things like that. i like to touch upon the things that didn’t happen, that will never happen. i want to write about the people that almost touch, but never meet halfway. i want to paint pictures and weave illusions of almost-but-not-quite.
i want to write about falling out of love.
there are way too many love stories out there.
so i am going to write a love story in reverse.
this is the story of how we broke up:
so i’m a little bit like a hopeless romantic.
except without the “romantic” part.
therefore i am just a hopeless.
i think we should have known that before we started out. perhaps it was obvious from the beginning, that some people can’t click the way that puzzle pieces fit together.
not. all. neat. like. that.
but you were determined and i was naive
and my mum told me once that:
how would i know unless i gave you a chance?
but i don’t like taking chances
because we used to learn probability in maths and did you know the probability of you and i was close to zero?
so i thought i thought i thought
and i said in a tiny voice i said
“okay”
i think we did very well in pretending for a long time
well at least i was pretending.
and you were pretending that you weren’t pretending and that i was only pretending that i was pretending
Dr Phil says pretence is bad in a relationship.
everyone listens to Dr Phil.
i think i maybe liked you a little bit.
but a little bit is not enough.
because there is no equals sign between us, because the arrow between you and me is greater on your end and smaller on mine
i don’t want to be the small end on the greater-than sign.
but i thought i thought i thought
maybe we can force these puzzle pieces together until their corners are bruised and their colours come off.
and maybe i didn’t like you enough, but i liked:
your voice
your smile
your shirts with the stupid slogans on them
and i liked the ground where you stood and the places that you visited and the books that you read and the chair that you always sat on in class.
but you should know that i’m a realist.
and you’re a dreamer.
i confess that i would’ve liked to hold your hand for a little longer.
but it’s harder to pull apart paper after the glue has dried. and i don’t want to leave you full of holes.
i tried to get the words out of my throat but they got caught halfway and when they fell out they hit the ground too heavy and rush out like a tide and i’m never going to get your expression out of my mind or forget your rueful smile and the one that is probably still on mine because maybe i have ended up liking you and you have stopped liking me and maybe my greater-than sign is bigger than yours now and i-
“iamsorryandihadfunthankyouandgoodbye”
…sayonara baby.
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