Have you ever done something really stupid at the end of a relationship in a desperate hopeless effort to try and save it? And I mean really whizz-bang stupid, not just sending text messages or long love letters, I mean the grade-A stuff that means that you either a) wish you could erase it from your memory or b) it forms the start of many interesting conversations at drunken parties for the rest of your life. I have. I’ve got plenty of times that could hardly be filed under my “finest moments”, but each time I got better at dealing with it — I learnt that the pain does indeed fade after time (I guess I was using the time wisely, albeit accidentally, as karalina suggested on last night’s And finally post) and the level of stupid things I did slowly calmed down to merely slightly embarrassing. No longer was I camping out in hedges looking at my ex’s bedroom window or or literally begging for another chance with my dignity meter reading a solid zero (and those are the remotely sane ones). To quote Bladerunner (and almost in context, too), I’ve done “questionable things” in the name of saving doomed love.
If you’ve had more than one relationship, you’ve probably got a few of the above “love made me do it” skeletons in your closet, too. But I’ll bet you one thing: They seemed like a good idea at the time, indeed, I’ll bet that it honestly, truthfully felt not only like a good idea, but right. I don’t know in your case how long it took from doing “the thing”, whatever it was, until you realised “oh shit…”. In my case, the times vary from mere seconds to months and in one case, years. Which all clearly points to one thing: there are times that you can’t trust your own brain. Broken love makes it lie to you and your idea of right and wrong goes flying out the window, which, it seems makes the true art of wisdom being knowing when you can trust your own thoughts.
Problem is, it takes a while to accept doom, especially if you’re the one being left. And if you try too hard to fix it, and it is really lost, you just make a fool of yourself. If you don’t try enough, and there was still hope, you look like you don’t care and shoot yourself in the feet without even realising it. It’s one of life’s great lose-lose situations. I’ve spent many a year looking for the compromise, but I always wonder if I’ve failed to read the signs that were provided in non-verbal form. It’s another case where that girl-to-boy dictionary would help. Or perhaps I’ve just spent too much time looking at this web site since finding it yesterday :-) (I predict a hefty order, any day now)
There are times, though, when I believe (or at the very least, perceive) that I am operating in excellent common-sense, good decision mode. Those times coincide with when I am in a stable, happy relationship with someone. Coincidentally, those times also match, give or take a few months here and there, the most successful times I’ve had in my life and career. So maybe the natural state where your brain makes the best decisions really is when you are in a secure relationship, which I sort of eluded to last night when taking about the seven year itch.
Since my brain is a liar and I’m still not completely free of all the issues surrounding this split (well, duh, if I was, clearly this blog would be empty… :-)) how do I know when I can trust it again? I guess I don’t. It’ll just happen magically as it always does. One day soon I’ll be sitting in a comfy leather chair with a fat cigar in one hand, a brandy in the other and looking back on this blog laughing myself silly; let’s hope it’s not in an ironic way, eh?
Good grief – I really ought to lighten up (without floating away) so here’s something (suitable for work, don’t worry :-)) that made me laugh, saw it on the telly a year or so ago, was more than glad to find it on the internet as well!
Funny, you wouldn’t believe that I’m generally an optimist, would you?
