Comedy is tragedy mellowed by time.
–Carol Burnett
A few years ago I ended a particularly unhealthy relationship. With the distance of a few years, a very traumatizing time in my life just feels very funny, and I’ve told this story enough times that it felt time to write it down.
We had been seeing each other long distance for several years, and I’d eventually decided to move to his city. This required my going back to school for a year to finish my degree so that I could get a visa to work in his country and move across the continent. About the only part of this that I don’t regret is finally finishing my damn degree.
Things lasted 10 weeks after I got there. It was the relationship equivalent of constructive dismissal; my partner was at times absent, at others cruel. But he was mainly just extremely focused on someone he’d started seeing over the summer as I finished my final class in university. I hadn’t yet figured out that polyamory is just too damn complicated for my tastes, and I didn’t particularly get along with her – an arch libertarian whose explanation for why she wanted kids started with “have you seen the movie Idiocracy?”
On a cold Saturday in December, I finally had enough. The only time I was going to be able to see him was around a talk he was giving at a local geek group, so I figured I’d tag along for that and then have The Conversation afterwards. When I got to his place, he was the most affectionate he’d been in the weeks since my transcontinental move, and my resolve weakened…
But not for long, because a few minutes into the half hour drive to the geek event, he sprung on me that New Partner would also be there. Well, that explained things.
We arrived at the meetup and I let New Partner know through clenched teeth that I couldn’t handle talking to her today. She left me be. I listened through the mildly interesting presentations, then there was some awkward socializing that involved my trying not to talk to old nerdy men, then we departed.
The arrangement was that my soon-to-be ex would drive me to my next engagement for the day – volunteering at the SPCA. It was a 40+ minute drive, of which I remember nothing.
We got to the parking lot, and I initiated The Conversation, and was met by the kind of “wow, you’re actually breaking up with me” that only those who have dated the intensely self-absorbed are familiar with. I had been mainlining the first year of Captain Awkward posts – he was an archetypal Darth Vader Boyfriend, but I did my best to be clear that it was not a negotiation.
He was quiet for a bit, and it finally dawned on him:
“Did you get me to take you to the SPCA so that you could break up with me in their parking lot and then go pet cats?”
I sure had. It worked out great.
hypatia dot ca 