The End of an Era

My relationship, the one that lasted five years and the one that I'm going to talk about today, is over.

Bloggers tend to steer clear of discussing their own relationships. The reasons are fairly apparent: your partner, for one, does not necessarily appreciate a play-by-play dissection of your sex-life (or lack thereof), how you're driven nuts by the strange way that he or she eats, the gentle misunderstanding last night that culminated in a horrible array nasty epithets, or his or her unhealthy relationship with food/shoes/money/parents/insert-favorite-fetish-here.

Secondly, while people may be quick to laud the adorable wondrousness that is their Relationship, no one is quite as willing to admit to the less ecstatic moments. No one wants to bring up last night’s argument because doing so will mean admitting to one’s own personality short-comings, that, yeah, your partner was the one that poured your favorite bourbon down the drain while explaining in no uncertain terms JUST HOW INSENSITIVE you are, but then maybe you really shouldn’t have said that particular thing about her thighs before breezily mentioning how good her sister looks these days.

Or, you know, whatever your particular argument happened to be.

My own relationship was never punctuated by such colorful displays, defaulting instead to a remarkably stable experience filled with contentment, ease of conversation, and an overall compatibility that made living under the same roof serene. We like the same music, we share similar goals, and both enjoy laughing at the same damn commercials. We are more than fond of each other. I have loved this person with a force that I am blessed to have been able to experience, and there isn’t a moment of this relationship that I regret.

What is my point, you ask? My point is that this relationship was a success.

See, I know that soon we're going to be inundated with phone calls and emails. While many may be expressing sympathy and consolation, many more are going to ask "What happened?" and "I thought you were going to be together forever!" and, worst of all, "If you only would have tried harder, you could have made this work."

Neither one of us is looking forward to this.

I have a problem with the fact that the ending of a relationship is equated with its failure. "Failing" implies that there’s a reward at the end of every relationship-brick-road (like courage, or a brain, or a heart), and that this is something that you’re going to actually receive. I have a problem with measuring the success of a relationship in terms of longevity, which necessarily leads to the conclusion that the only successful relationships are the ones that end in (non-spousal-homicidal) death. This is not the reward I had in mind.

This bizarre assumption leads to myriads of unhappy people, struggling to “get it right” and “try harder” because they sincerely believe that relationships are like training for the Olympics or a bar exam. They may not be happy (in fact, no one involved may be happy), but they will be damned if they're going to be the one to call it quits. They may even spend years “working” on their miserable relationship, but are they called out as masochists? No, they’re rewarded with labels such as “determined” and “mature” and “realistic.”

Of course, all of those things – maturity, realism, and a certain amount of willingness to compromise – are necessary for any healthy relationship, but that’s entirely beside the point. What’s important is that we’re failing to recognize that by perpetuating relationships that have long since past their expiration date, we’re actually committing a great harm. The relationship, presumably, was not always Work. At one point, the relationship was Joy. And turning Joy into Work into Misery is not a great and noble deed; it’s cruelty. It’s irrational. It’s destructive, and it's disrespectful not only to the partner but to relationship itself.

Treating a relationship with so little dignity, albeit in the name of keeping it alive, is horrific. I wish it was an accepted practice to recognize and respect the end of a relationship, but our bookstores are not filled with books on how to gently end a valued relationship, but rather with such volumes as "We Can Work it Out," "A Step by Step Program to Help Low-Sex and No-Sex Marriages," "When Bad Things Happen to Good Marriages," and "Divorce-Proofing Your Marriage." For Christ's sake, people. Have the strength to end your relationship while it's still a happy one, not wait for it to die a long and painful death.

Ok. None of this is to say that when I realized that my relationship was over - and I mean really realized, not just wondered - I didn't cry, or that the crying didn't last maybe a little bit longer than it should have. I adore this man. I just don't need to wait until I hate him to break it off.

He's not going to read this post. But if he were, I would be sure to tell him that I love him, that I've treasured this time that we've spent together, and, especially, that I have been blessed to have such a remarkable, inspiring, and sympathetic partner. I would be lucky to love anyone half as much as I have loved him.