Brian Whitney looks back at how most of his exes aren’t his friends.
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“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.“
Soren Kierkegard
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I once was with a woman that I knew I would be with for the rest of my days.
I lived with her from when I was nineteen years old until I was twenty-seven. I was certain that she was the love of my life. We were perfect together, there was nothing that would tear us apart. We had the kind of love that only two young people could: it was glorious and stupid all at once. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and not only that but she was hilarious. I have always had a soft spot for a funny woman. The sex was great, she was smart, and she laughed at my jokes. But even more important than all of that was the fact that we were best friends.
Then we broke up.
At the time this was a surprise, but I realized over time that my being insane, an addict and a liar tends to have this effect on long term relationships. This one, my first, was just the beginning of a pattern of failed relationships, of lost loves, and of lifelong friendships that were not to be.
I dealt with our breakup by alternating between laying on the floor, too depressed to move, and going out and getting hammered and having sex with anyone that I could. But whether I was cripplingly depressed, or totally trashed, I knew that even though the relationship was over, that she and I would always be friends.
Of course we aren’t friends anymore.
This woman, who I had talked to every morning, to whom I said I love you too each day, that I slept next to every night, was now a stranger.
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In fact now when I think of her, I can’t even conjure up any feeling at all. I loved her –at least I think I did– when we were together, then for a while I hated her when we broke up, but now I just don’t feel anything.
Once I bumped into her on the street, and it didn’t even feel awkward, it felt like I didn’t even know her anymore. This woman, who I had talked to every morning, to whom I said I love you too each day, that I slept next to every night, was now a stranger.
This came to mind, all of this, because her mother died a while ago. I found out the way most of us find things out nowadays, through social media. Her mother hated me, and honestly I never liked her much either. But she and my ex were close, and it made me think, shouldn’t I at least say something? Isn’t that human? The least that one would do for an old friend? I went to weddings with her family, I spent holidays with her family, I knew her mother extremely well, even though we aren’t close, we still said we would always be friends, at the least I should comment on her mothers passing and let her know that I, her old friend, understood how hard it was for her.
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I have lived with four women over my life, there are four women out there, that I told that I loved, and that I would love forever, and then when all of these relationships ended, I told all three I would be friends with them forever, how could we not be? We were so close.
My first, the woman who I was with from 18 to 27, we didn’t stay friends at all. We attempted to for a week or so, and then we never really spoke again. I did call her on her our first Christmas apart, this was before cell phones, and when I called her mother picked up the phone.
When my girlfriend got on the phone, it was quite apparent that she thought I was an idiot for calling. “But I will call you every Christmas, even though we aren’t together we are still friends” I said to her. And the funny part is that I meant it, I really thought that we would continue to be close for the rest of our lives.
The next serious woman in my life was with me from 27 to 38 or so. I was even closer with her than I was with my first. We went further in the play acting thing, we bought a house together, we got a dog, a beautiful Great Dane rescue named Blossom, I stopped partying as much, and was smarter about when I slept with other people, but I was still insane, still an addict, and still a liar, so eventually we broke up too.
I knew we would be best friends forever though. We still had the dog together, and we both loved her. We would still go out drinking together from time to time. I even met with some of her first dates.
She lives across the country now, and is married and has a kid. She told me she hated kids, and she never wanted one. Odd what best friends keep from each other.
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But after our dog died, which of course broke my heart, we drifted apart, for a bit we would still say happy birthday to each other, but that stopped after a few years.
She lives across the country now, and is married and has a kid. She told me she hated kids, and she never wanted one. Odd what best friends keep from each other.
We are friends on Facebook, the last time we communicated was when a mutual friend was arrested and suffered a public shaming, so schadenfreude rekindled our friendship briefly. But if I were to call, to text, to send her a message now she would think there was something seriously wrong with me. And there is…oh there is.
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Then came my wife. We were together probably just three years, but it might have been two, or it might have been four, I honestly can’t remember.
Addiction, lying and insanity was at its worst at this point. Which was rather tragic, because she was my favorite. Not just my favorite girlfriend, but my favorite person. I could listen to her talk for hours, and when I talked I knew that she understood every word.
She was my best friend.
I was having affairs, I was drinking too much, I was lying, I wasn’t much of a friend to her at all.
She was my best friend. I was having affairs, I was drinking too much, I was lying, I wasn’t much of a friend to her at all.
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She threw me out at one point and I lived with someone else, albeit briefly, that wasn’t my friend, that didn’t get all my jokes, that didn’t understand me, that I knew I wouldn’t be friends with forever.
Of course I still told her I would. How can you tell an addict is lying? When he opens his mouth of course.
Over time I have become friends with my ex-wife. Actual friends. Real friends. In fact I would even say that we are best friends now. I don’t lie to her about things. We trust each other. We don’t have sex because it would effect our relationship. We talk about our families, about books, we joke, we play games, we go out for brunch.
The whole thing lacks drama. It is odd. We spend time together because we like each other, and for no other reason, there are no hidden agendas, no lies, no games.
♦◊♦
I always had another reason to hang out with all my other exes. They were fucking me, they were housing me, they were shielding me from life, from society, they were helping me to hide from myself and from everyone else I knew.
I did write my first girlfriend a message. It said, in it’s entirety: “Hey Sarah, Sorry about your mother.” She didn’t write back.
I shouldn’t have sent it.
I knew we weren’t really friends.
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Photo Credit: Flickr Creative Commons/skedonk
Also by Brian Whitney:
1. How I Lost and Found My Stepson … and Myself
Before ending his addiction, Brian Whitney could only pretend to be a husband and stepdad. He lost his marriage, but he’s recovered his family.
2. I Shovel Snow to Support My Habit
Brian Whitney is a recovering addict who loves to write. He shovels snow to pay the bills.
I agree – “Real” over forced, canned, let me make this pretty for you, epiphanies. Life sometimes is senseless. But it’s always real.
Thanks for writing Brian. We’re so there with you.
I’ll take real over packaged revelations and epiphanies any day of the week.
I got to the end of this article still waiting for a revelation. There was no point to this article… no revelation… no epiphany… and no take away message. Just an impression that you were horrible to all these people and an inference that somehow it was all your addiction’s fault.
Revelations and epiphanies are about as common as people that stay friends with their exes. This piece was real, quite sad, quite honest and quite real.
No revelations need apply.
Maybe thats the point, sometimes there is no happy ending with addictions. This could be a part of his ongoing struggle; the reality that he has these demons, or open wounds that will always be present. No closure to the things that haunt him most. A recovering addict is always in the recovery phase and these open-ended feelings are, unfortunately a part of his daily struggles.