2008 Woodie Awards
Minus the City
Elisa Benson
Issue date: 4/15/05 Section: Commentary
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I'm still calling Brad my boyfriend - pausing - remembering - and then correcting myself: "Ex-boyfriend, I mean." Cue the "yeah right" facial morphology.
Quick background: Brad and I ended our two-year relationship at the semester's start in line with his departure on the Wales study group. We both insisted on a "real" breakup, not one of those artificial, deadline-hampered, "we'll do whatever we want for the next four months and then get back together the second you return to the states" relationship-interruptions that people label "breaks." Despite these intentions, our shared social circle, the two of us, and even Brad's mom are pretty much operating under the assumption we'll rekindle our relationship come senior year.
In the meantime, we have an unstated "don't ask don't tell" policy that involves me, in some twisted self-recognized power dynamic, wondering why Brad isn't asking me about my hookup habits. I mean, he should totally care, right?
Despite, then, the many facets of post-relationship behavior we're staying mum about, we did have a long distance convo the other day that left me feeling particularly perplexed. In summary, Brad said he'd rather I have emotionally-fulfilling relationships than random hookups. The point of the breakup, he says, is to ensure we're right for each other by experiencing college relationships with other people. A night of casual sex is far less telling.
Not only is this something my mom might say (if she shared with me her opinions about campus hookup culture - which thankfully she does not), but it's contrary to the way I hope he is behaving. I would rather Brad tell me during our inevitably awkward reunion conversations that his random overseas flings were purely physical. As much as I've convinced myself that we're really broken up (even though my references to him sometimes suggest otherwise), the thought of him caring about someone the way he cared about me is uncomfortable and hard to swallow. The physical stuff is less jarring, something to throw away when last night's mood-o-romantic fades with the sunrise. I headed into this breakup prepared for its permanence, understanding that either of us might fall into a relationship with someone else. But I didn't know that's what Brad would want me to do.
Quick background: Brad and I ended our two-year relationship at the semester's start in line with his departure on the Wales study group. We both insisted on a "real" breakup, not one of those artificial, deadline-hampered, "we'll do whatever we want for the next four months and then get back together the second you return to the states" relationship-interruptions that people label "breaks." Despite these intentions, our shared social circle, the two of us, and even Brad's mom are pretty much operating under the assumption we'll rekindle our relationship come senior year.
In the meantime, we have an unstated "don't ask don't tell" policy that involves me, in some twisted self-recognized power dynamic, wondering why Brad isn't asking me about my hookup habits. I mean, he should totally care, right?
Despite, then, the many facets of post-relationship behavior we're staying mum about, we did have a long distance convo the other day that left me feeling particularly perplexed. In summary, Brad said he'd rather I have emotionally-fulfilling relationships than random hookups. The point of the breakup, he says, is to ensure we're right for each other by experiencing college relationships with other people. A night of casual sex is far less telling.
Not only is this something my mom might say (if she shared with me her opinions about campus hookup culture - which thankfully she does not), but it's contrary to the way I hope he is behaving. I would rather Brad tell me during our inevitably awkward reunion conversations that his random overseas flings were purely physical. As much as I've convinced myself that we're really broken up (even though my references to him sometimes suggest otherwise), the thought of him caring about someone the way he cared about me is uncomfortable and hard to swallow. The physical stuff is less jarring, something to throw away when last night's mood-o-romantic fades with the sunrise. I headed into this breakup prepared for its permanence, understanding that either of us might fall into a relationship with someone else. But I didn't know that's what Brad would want me to do.