Not a Lobster

Sometimes, I don’t know what haunts me more. The memories of you… or the happy person I used to be.

– Ranata Suzuki

I trusted That Man so completely. I told him all of my fears and nightmares. He, in turn, made them all come true as if it were a honey-do list. As thoroughly devastating as his actions have been, I don’t think there was any malice on his part, just carelessness. He didn’t want to be a villain anymore than I wanted to be heartbroken.

That Man didn’t mean me any harm, but he didn’t do anything to look out for me either. I can’t fathom what he actually meant when he said, “I love you.” I am hurt and I am angry and I will forever curse any connection between him and the woman he cheated on me with. Despite my angry mutterings, I know I have no magical powers. If I did, the daisy petals would have always stopped on, “he loves me,” and I would be too busy loving him back to write anything down.

Instead,  here we are, tens of thousands of words trying to figure out how we could have come to this. We went from strangers to friends to significant others to friends and back to strangers again. Not the story I expected but there it is – a relationship from start to finish where there was supposed to be a travel blog. I came home from Portugal so certain that 2022 would be our last summer apart. It turned out it was our last summer together. I hadn’t realized it was so much more than miles in our way.

It’s hard to find the right line, being someone who posts a public diary on the internet but also wants to respect the privacy of others. That Man took his side chick to our campus, introduced her to my friends and family, and let her read my most personal and private correspondence. Private person my ass.

So I’ve told my story here, but I’ve kept some of his secrets. I’m nowhere near ready to forgive him, but this blog is my therapy, not my revenge. What I thought we’d had was so precious to me. We were some kind of couple for nearly five years and friends for twice as long. I’m still oddly protective of what was or could have been. 

We had our inside jokes, the shorthand, and callbacks of a long-running intimate relationship. I believe that every couple should have a go-to fight, something to bicker about that doesn’t really matter to either party. It lets you get the feisty out without hurting feelings. Ours was my grandmother’s copper lobster mold. 

It’s “a lobster tin that’s hung by its tail” that looks like it’s made out of copper, and when my grandmother died, I became the proud new owner. I make (crustacean-free) pomegranate gelatin in it sometimes, but mostly, it hangs on my kitchen wall decoratively.

The Work Bestie would point out to anyone he could that it looked phallic. I would argue lobster. He would argue cock. If we were arguing in person, I would point out that if any guy’s junk looked like that, he should see a doctor. When arguing by text, I would send him pictures of copper rooster molds. They’re different. Besides, lobsters are way better than roosters. 

As sitcoms go, Friends was alright. I didn’t love it. I didn’t hate it. That said, I will forever adore the world according to Phoebe. In one episode, she explains earnestly that lobsters fall in love and mate for life, trying to illustrate her sympathy for her friend by telling him that the girl he’s, again and always, pining for is his lobster. Your lobster is the one you’re meant to be with.

From what I can tell, happily-ever-after relationships require three things, and they have to be from both parties. You can’t build an arch that will stand if you only buttress one side.

1. They both have to enjoy each other’s company, like actually wanting to spend time with each other, even fully clothed.
2. They both have to do the work. Like houses, relationships require maintenance, usually at the most inconvenient times. In relationships, that work is often about taming your own demons and doing the unglamorous and generally invisible work of keeping yourself well enough to face the next round of challenges. I believe that getting through challenges together as a team strengthens relationships, but not if the challenges are so big they are destroying the participants, and definitely not if only one person is doing the work. Sidenote: Life is good at providing challenges; there is no need to add them artificially to a relationship.
3. Lastly, they must want the same things in life enough to have a shared direction to travel together.

I thought we had the first two down solid, and I was trying to problem-solve the third. It seems now that he didn’t check off any of these boxes, after all. I don’t know who he was. It feels like my ex left me for a horrible person and then did his best to be on her level, but maybe that’s who he always was. It’s hard to believe he was ever the man I was in love with, but I know that I am changed. Maybe he changed, too.

That Man and his side chick managed to create a personal hell for me. Whatever their intention was, the impact was brutal. My whole life, I’ve been a hopeless, if somewhat skittish, romantic. I think this relationship finally killed that part of me. Loving too big, too easily, is who I always was, but I didn’t just love him. I trusted him, and that was rare. For the first time in my life, I want nothing to do with love.

My new sexual orientation is nihilistic rage, like this may be an actual villain origin story. Except, even now, harder, angrier than I think I have ever been, I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through on an enemy. Not even on That Man. The part of me that loved who I thought he was couldn’t stand to see him in this much pain. Shame on them both, but also, shame on me.

I understand now how some people have that one time they got so sick on tequila, and then they never want to drink it again, not even in moderation. It just doesn’t seem like a fun idea anymore. I don’t want to find my person now. Please, let this relationship prove to be my last. I don’t think I would survive going through this again.

Somehow, the second-longest romantic relationship of my life didn’t even have another person in it. Despite learning the hard way that I was only something small in his life, for me, this was a love story. I fell in love, and I believed we were looking to build a life together. Not all love stories have happy endings. I miss who I thought he was, so much. I miss who I used to be, too. Ultimately, though, he won this argument. I thought he was my lobster, but he was just another dick. 

A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage
You did not think when you sent me to the brink, to the brink.
You desired my attention
but denied my affection, my affection.
So tell me now, where was my fault
in loving you with my whole heart?

-Mumford & Sons
White Blank Page