There's something to be said about the awkwardness that follows a breakup. Mostly, that it sucks. And that the only thing I can do at this point to keep myself from crying all the time is to laugh at it.
There are some people to whom the explanations come easy: best friends, parents and siblings, mentors, bosses, some coworkers with parental leanings - the people who you see or talk to on a near-daily basis. They understand all of the layers, because they've been around for a lot of them as they developed. They understand your need to vent, and generally are awesome for you. They just get it.
Then there's the next level - people who hear that you've been out for near two weeks because your grandfather died, people who want to wish you well. Choir members, people on facebook, people you see at work every so often because you work in the same dept. "How've you been?" is a constant question. "The short answer is 'not so awesome.' The longer answer requires bribery in the form of sugar or alcohol," is the constant answer.
The really special conversations happen with general acquaintances. Explaining to one of the Peabody Museum volunteer coordinators, for example, that I'd no longer be taking the community kits out with le ex because, well, he's le ex. And someday we might be able to do it together again, but for now, I'd really appreciate some time and space sans le ex. Or, talking with the downstairs neighbors. Via email. Because they're borrowing some of the equipment you manage. And then they wish you, the ex and your dog a Merry Christmas (I decided to just respond with "Merry Christmas to you, too!"). Awkward turtle, much?
Another memorable moment was explaining to my younger brother why I broke up with le ex. He asked what happened, so I told him. I'm not going to lie to my brother (actually, I'd rather him learn from le ex's mistakes so that HE doesn't pull stupid shit on some unsuspecting significant other in the future). "I don't hate him, Andrew, but I'm very, very angry and hurt. I'll probably be angry for a while. Sometimes, you just can't deal with someone hurting you any more, and you have to call it quits. He made a really big mistake that I couldn't deal with then, and I can't help him with now. It doesn't make him a bad person. ...It does make him an idiot, though." Luckily, my almost-13 year-old brother seemed to have a fairly decent grasp of everything. Or maybe that's most 13-year-olds. I don't know; I try to keep my interactions with pre-teens to a minimum.
Actually, I think my favorite exchange was with my coworker, Bryan. He does magic things with Active Directory, LabStats, and Windows machines. Also, we argue. A lot. All the time, about everything. Good-naturedly, of course.
Wednesday, Nov. 3
Bryan: So what happened?
Erin: Well, I found out that my grandfather is in the hospital and then 20 minutes later I learned that le ex [insert really stupid shit that le ex pulled]. I broke up with him on Monday.
Bryan: ....Wow. I'm sorry.
Erin: I'm not.
Bryan: *stares, and then starts laughing* Wow, I guess that's one way to react.
What else can I do at this point, but laugh? I've cried so much I've given myself hiccups and headaches. I've driven so much that I get twitchy when I think about driving anything over 30 minutes. I've taken over the bed so much that.... wait, no, I like having the whole bed to myself. Nevermind that.
My point is, that even though I have these incredibly flippant answers and attitudes towards things right now - especially my breakup - is that I'm not trying to make fun of le ex (ok, well maybe a little). This is how I'm coping. When I stress, I either watch funny things to make myself laugh or try to make others laugh. Because if I'm laughing, I'm not crying. And if I'm making others laugh, they aren't feeling sorry for me. Just for that one instant, we're all OK, like nothing ever happened. And it's those little moments of OK-ness that keep me going every day.
So, just let me laugh, and laugh with me. Please. It's all I've got right now.
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