*Hastily typed at the dirtiest Starbucks in NYC I have ever sat in, in my life! *
“Getting over someone is like being an addict in a halfway house, and you have to rehabilitate yourself. You don’t eat very much or you eat too damn much. Remember how Jeremy gained weight when he came back? ( I nod here) Yeah like that ! You sleep a lot, you know. . Sometimes you pick up other addictions like food,… alcohol, marijuana, sex ….”
“The 21st century version of getting over someone comes with withdrawal symptoms like removing them from your Facebook or deleting their numbers. This stupid itch you can’t scratch you know, their social presence, their pictures on other people’s walls or instagram, you have this compulsive need to just erase them.” you continue.
” Yeah I know” I reply. ” It doesn’t work for me though, when I like someone , my brain betrays me and memorizes their number even when I don’t want it to. It happens so unconsciously that I get upset at myself. I start doing this eye twitch thing where I only try to see the first three numbers in my dial up screen, whenever I’m dating now, I guess that’s bad too, it’s like prempting a negative possibility”
” So how do you handle it then?” you ask
” I just tell people to leave me alone and lose my number” I reply.
“I gotta say though, this one was much easier to get over than the last two. Im getting pretty good at this.” You chuckle thumping your chest.
“or maybe your tolerance is much higher now, since you’re like a full blown addict and everything” I reply, and we both laugh.
” but how did you do it then?” I ask intrigued at the way in which he hopped and loved from one to another.
” I don’t know, I used to start from hate you know, tell myself all the bad things about them, erase the good, hold on to painful fights, and this time I just let myself be and focused on being happy, mindlessly fucking happy…. Heart break changes people, its like dying and becoming someone else, you have to go through this personal suffering,shit sucks, but sometimes it makes you this spectacular person… and sometimes it doesn’t.”
” so…. basically you picked up another addiction, but this time , you picked happiness?” I ask.
“precisely, I mean isn’t that what they do in the hospitals? Like the time I had my accident in college and I was in so much pain, they hooked me on so much morphine, I was jumping from one addiction to another till suffering became tolerant.”
I realized that conversations like this seemed to be happening everywhere around me , and we were all drowning in it. I wanted to complain about it , and scream at someone about how unfair it was. We want love, but we act like we don’t. We’re picky about it, purposeful, lonely… dare I say bored? Reading, listening to songs and sharing messaging about this spectacular grandiosity that is love. Something we had heard so much about, but we hardly understood .Its hard enough, that it was rare to find someone who understood things the way we did, wanted to share who we are, allowed reciprocity. We are all addicts here, for this drug no one wants to admit they want. Love, lust companionship. Yet it is hard to explain why gaining it after a street trade gives so many of us buyers remorse. The drug is yours now, and once you’ve ingested it you’re really not the same person. Some people go on benders, lose who they are completely and die in the name or even the search of it. Some realize the drug isn”t for them, and use it recreationally, other’s just have it in their pockets, waiting for the right time and right setting to pop the pill. It didn’t matter anyway because the outcome was still the same: Sensation, emotion, rush, pain and a possibility of addiction.
There were no winners in the game of dealers high off their own supply and users popping frequently like Hugh laurie/ House on morphine. Love was and is a(n) (un)fortunate necessity, a right of passage to growth or determent. The outcomes are so varied, the possible side effects so numerous, you question why you want the pill in the first place. There is no manual teaching us the right ways to do it. The proper ways to communicate, say your sorry after hurting feelings, turning the affections of another down, reeling in the anger after rejections, saying forced goodbyes to a potential that would have worked. There is no fucking manual, and there are no guarantees which is pretty much the worst part. You could kiss so many frogs and never find a prince, maybe because the idea of a prince isn’t real in the first place.You could date shit people for so many years through your twenties and there would be NO promise that that would change eventually or it could, and you would be lucky . As far as love was the drug, fairytales, idealistic ideas about it was the street pusher, and in more ways than one, many of us, including you with your purposeless and sporadic dating, your heart daintily attached to your fingertips that gripped the steering wheel too hard, needed to get over it.