I am sure that everyone has had a failed relationship. No, scrap that. Not a failed relationship, rather one that just didnt work out. And we all know that there are stages of recovery. One of them being anger/rage/fury/discontent. This process is often prefaced by the phrase "I cant believe he/she did X..." or even "How DARE he/she even think that....X" However, I have come to believe that every relationship has an element of Stockholm syndrome to it. Think about it for a second. Seriously. Have you ever left a relationship and when looking back at it you thought, what was I THINKING? I mean, really. How was that EVER ok with me? Thats Stockholm syndrome. We learn to survive our circumstances.
Looking back over my recent colossal breakup, I have had many a flashback to moments of 'WTF?' One of them occurred because I have recently got back into hiking. My ex (we shall call him here 'The Separatist') was, and probably still is, a fitness fanatic. You know the type, cant go a week without exercise, and should there be such a terrible week the urge to connect razor blade to wrist becomes significant. I, on the other hand, like the idea of exercise, but its been so long since I had a regular regime that the reality of a high speed hike, or any fast movement uphill for that matter, is likely to give me something akin to seizures with associated heart failure. Luckily I have some equally unfit friends and recently we discovered we all like to go for walks in pretty locations. As a result we have started 'hiking' every weekend, sometimes in the most breathtaking locales, enjoying the ability to actually have a conversation while walking on relatively level ground.
The Separatist, however, felt it really important that I be able to enjoy his past times. Fair enough, I wanted to. Yet I only recently remembered him saying that he had to think long and hard about whether a relationship with me would work if I couldn't enjoy his hiking/canyoneering/climbing with him. *Breathes deeply*. Ok, moving on. So there I was, hiking determindly up a mountain, early onset epilepsy about a minute away and The Separatist disappears into the distance. Screw this, I thought, and stopped walking to take a moment to 'admire the view' and waited to see if my absence was noted. About 10 minutes later I gave up on breathing and headed back up the hill, only to find The Separatist sitting drinking water at the top.
By this time I was furious, tired, breathing heavily, sweaty, and probably about as far from sexy as I have ever been, and feeling exactly like I looked. And there he sat, calm, collected, not even breathing heavily, watching me walk up the hill.
I was, I think somewhat understandably, seriously hacked off. However, when I tried to voice this through my dry mouth, aching muscles and complete inability to get enough oxygen to my brain, he looked at me with wide eyed innocence and said:
"But we are going to the same place, does it really matter if we get there separately?"
Please close your mouth, its unattractive to sit there gaping at the computer screen. Yes, that really is what he said. At the time I rolled it around in my head and somehow made it ok. In retrospect I punch walls and burn effigies of his face.
"Oh really?" I should have said "Next time you feel like some nookie, how about you get yourself off and I will get myself off? We are both just trying to have an orgasm, does it really matter if we do it together?"