Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Because a Broken Heart is a Bitch
I was in a café in Los Baños when you first called me up, telling me that there’s this boy you were into. You sounded excited, nervous, happy, and giddy all at once. He was a good friend of yours but you wanted to go on a different path with him. You wanted to explore being friends while being physically intimate with him too. “Fuck buddy” is the ungraceful term, whether there’s actual fucking involved or it’s everything else short of fucking.
I know. You would prefer that I call it something other than that. There’s sex involved but it isn’t self-serving, predatory sex. It’s sex between genuine friends and not friendship for the sake of exchanging bodily fluids. There are a myriad permutations of human sexual relations, true, but it boils down to one issue: is sex without romantic love healthy?
If we were in still our teens, I would’ve gone over to your dormitory in UP Los Baños and punched you in your ovaries for considering the idea.
If we were in still in our twenties, I would’ve told you that men buy sex with love and women buy love with sex.
But we’re in our thirties. Masters of the world. Too old to hold on to our illusions. Too young to let go of our dreams. Sex complicates things, I warned you. It might turn into love or it might turn into dust. But you won’t know if you don’t jump in. If it does turn into dust, give it enough time and you’ll be back to being friends again. If it turns into love, then what you do with it is up to you.
Three months short of a year later, you want more than what you started out with. Sex complicates things. If you started out with love, you’ll eventually want sex. If you started out with sex, you’ll eventually want love. Or grow tired of the sex and move on.
Here’s your dilemma minus all the bullshit:
ITEM 1: You want more than just sex and friendship now.
ITEM 2: He wants more of the same.
ITEM 3: A broken heart is a bitch.
So leave him. If he comes back offering love and a legitimate relationship, then all is well in the cosmos. If he doesn’t come back, then at least you know the truth now. And, no, you can’t be friends just yet. Maybe a year. Maybe two. But you’ll be friends again, don’t worry about that.
Now is the time when you’ll start doing a lot of stupid things. Even if I tell you not to do them, you’ll still do them. You’re compelled to do them. Maybe you’ll agree to goodbye sex even if you feel like you’re being cheap. Maybe you’ll agree to it more than once until you can’t agree to it anymore. Maybe you’ll decide to let go but you’ll still be texting him and calling him and making an ass of yourself, especially when you’re drunk, thus turning him off even more. Maybe you know that the rational thing to do is block him on Facebook so you won’t see his face anymore, but you wouldn’t be able to do that.
Because a broken heart is a cold fist in you intestines.
Because a broken heart is shattered glass running through your veins.
Because a broken heart is a bitch.
So do stupid things if you must. Make a fool of yourself if you must. And then move on. Three, four months from now, you’ll probably be really ready to let go. Six months from now, you’ll start thinking that you’re getting used to it. A year from now, you’ll start thinking that it’s not so bad anymore. Eighteen months. Twenty-four months.
Life goes on. And you have friends.