My relationship ended on the same day as my antibiotics.
We met, as all fictional couples do, at a New Years party. He went to school with me and we had mutual friends but our paths hadn’t yet crossed. We talked for about 10 minutes and then both left to go to other parties.
The next day we started chatting on Twitter, in the DMs. Sending memes, discussing memes, talking about all you can eat buffets on cruises. The conversation flowed and we’re both good at banter and I gave him my number.
Texting became calling became FaceTiming and eventually, I took the train back to DC. We spent the day together, and by the end of it, he made plans to come to stay with me in New York.
He stayed with me for a weekend, I stayed with him for a weekend. And thus began my first long-distance relationship.
But back to the antibiotics. Unrelated to my blossoming crush, I developed an ear infection. A cold turned into an excruciating earache that led me to the urgent care at 10pm. There was another girl my age who was telling someone on the phone that she had just been diagnosed with an ear infection too. And for the first time in my life, I was in a sorority.
I didn’t think you could get an ear infection as a 26 year old. I thought they only happened to children and swimmers and dogs. I’m none of those things, I stopped being a child when I bought cottage cheese last week. I was on day 3 of my illness when I went to stay with my crush again last weekend. He took great care of me, feeding me Nyquil in bed and saying things like “are you ok?” and “I thought you died.” It felt nice to be taken care of in my vulnerable state. Everything was nice.
It’s impossible to know when you got sick. You want to put your finger on it, to say it was this party or this train ride or this wild sneeze. You think that if you find out exactly when you got sick, you can fix it. But once you’re sick, it’s decided. You could make yourself crazy by investigating or you could drink tea and let it rock. Colds eventually end. Infections heal. The amoxicillin in your system is doing what it needs to do. Your stomach may never recover but that’s another journey for another day.
Being long-distance was kind of like playing house. We were only together on the weekends. Only for long walks and pizza and beer and movies in pajamas and no responsibilities. Maybe anybody could be happy in that environment. I took him to my favorite nearby bagel and he took me to his favorite nearby bagel. This is more vulnerable than being naked.
The funniest part of this breakup (and breakups are inherently funny, because the root of comedy is surprise) is that I sent him a thank you note this morning. Before we broke up. A cute little note in the mail thanking him for hosting me last weekend. Now he’s gonna get it in 3-9 business days and not only will he have to think of me, but he’ll regret ending things with someone who has their own letterhead.
Maybe that’s the hardest part of a breakup. You don’t want to be forgettable or forgotten. The human instinct to tug on a shirt and say hi! I’m here! Notice me!
Whenever I’m sick, I become the witches from Macbeth. Eye of newt and tongue of frog, I will eat/drink/breathe in anything to make me feel better. Even when the only thing that helps is the passage of time, and staying hydrated. And watching Curb.
We only met two months ago. But in Interstellar two months is 90 years or something. So really it’s been a long time. And time doesn’t matter when you have a crush. All that matters is sometimes someone texts you good morning every day and one day, they stop. And it’s ok, because whether or not they send that text, you still have the right to have a good morning. You can still get a breakfast burrito and leap over dog shit and pick up a candle and smell it and put it down. One day, your antibiotics will have run their course and you will begin to heal. Then you can take probiotics so you can shit normal again. Happy Saturday, Pillowtown. In sickness and in health.