How do you separate the wash?

So after a month with Doctor Chardonnay and a few sobering sessions with friends, I have broken free of the pattern of bad weather. A cheesy expression I know – but sums it up just about right.

The practicalities have been dealt with: his clothes from my house removed, cleansing process of my room sorted. Thank you Mr Muscle Domestic Cleaner. The word is also out: we are no longer a couple, and hence exist as separate entities.

Done and dusted.

Just one lingering dust particle remains. Who are my friends and who are his?

This is not a difficult debacle or a bitter pill to swallow – it’s far more complex than that.

When times were rosy I embarked on the social circuit of his friends. And for the most part his companions were genuine, sweet and thoroughly likeable people. I got along well with them because I chose to put my best foot forward – I gave them me. It was an uncensored, unassuming me that took them on face value and not as his friends.

Of course, I was worried about judgement day. No one likes knowing that their partner’s friends can’t stand you. But I knew the only way to pass the test was to side-step people pleasing and see that they could spot a fake a mile away.

And in the end – I liked them as them.

So, do you give up friendships based on past associations?

Is it acceptable to continue a friendship with your ex’s friends? Or are you meant to let this go as well?

It seems such a shame to do this when based on such genuine feelings they became my friends too. It was hardly like I was pretending that I got along with them so well.

But is there a ‘loyalty line’ I am crossing?

If I can move on should I assume that my friends and my ex could too? Is it reasonable to expect resurrecting these friendships once based on the premise that I was a couple can still healthily exist? Or is it an umbilical cord to an old me that I should let go?

In a way I hope not. Because I like to think that even when in a relationship I still existed as me – my own separate being that could forge friendships based on who I was and what I stood for. And I hope that these mutual friends felt the same genuine motivation in knowing me. I certainly didn’t spot a fake Fendi-friend.

Well, I guess I’ll stick to the motto if it’s not fake, then keep it real.

I spy infidelity…

Thankfully, I no longer have to worry about this. I am single, so therefore I could only cheat on myself, with myself. A bit boring I would think.

Unluckily for some of my friends the issue of infidelity is one they are facing. And if only the act of infidelity was so cut and dry as sleeping with someone else. If this were the case the outcome would be a no-brainer: accept it and stay, or move on.

But what I am learning through my friends is the actual definition of infidelity. It ain’t like the movies.

Does infidelity cover lying about your relationship status? If you choose to not declare your current state of affairs should you be deported from the moral high ground? Is this just an oversight or an act of deceit that warrants the stamp of infidelity?

Surely when you are in a relationship, it is more than just common manners and decency to deftly bring into conversation you are in existence with a partner. I am not dictating that this should be the case applied to every encounter you have with a stranger. But we can all pick up the vibes of an interested party.

Do the decent thing and not lead them on. Not just for the sake of your loyal partner, but the person in front of you who fancies their chances with you.

Next case in point of undefined territories of infidelity: flirting. Never should one lose the art of flirting whilst still in a relationship. But one should be acutely aware of the precise line of crossing it.

Flirting is a dangerous game to play when your partner isn’t looking. What happens when they do look your way? Will they appreciate your close contact with someone else as meaningless fun? And do you possess the willpower to not be dangerously tempted and take it that one step further?

I am not sure humans were ever meant to be monogamous. But that’s what we’ve brought into. And in a way that’s what your partner has too.

Infidelity takes on many strands. It unravels back to abusing loyalty, trust and respect of the person who has chosen to be with you. So, it can be as subtle as non-disclosure and as exhilarating as dirty dancing with someone else that qualifies as an act of infidelity.

Feel free to post-rationalise at your will, but at the end of the day it is only you who will get bitten. I believe in ‘love karma’ – fuck with that and you’re likely to be sitting on your ass in your eighties with five cats and no one to love.

They say: Everything happens for a reason…

Do we believe them? ‘We’ being everybody else out there who thought this year was going to rock.

This saying is one that is wheeled out for every occasion: redundancies, rejection, relationship malfunctions… It is the one size fits all of clichés.

Got no advice? Then wheel this little puppy out. It’s great.

But why is it great?

I’ve been on the receiving end and have actually experienced a minor glow to hear these words. I haven’t skipped home, but it has definitely made me see the light at the end of the tunnel… and just possibly, just possibly I’ve considered the fact that the lumpy turd that has landed on my doorstep day in and day out is some cosmic endurance test of my positive thinking.

With a little perseverance, optimism and belief in this cliché, I will see that fate has once again interrupted and produced a scenario way beyond my wildest dreams.

I will see my impatience and intolerance has been challenged for the greater good. I will garner life-affirming lessons that will carry through to my retirement of lazy gins on the back deck in my eighties. I will impart small gems of wisdom as I go along care of this Oprah-like journey of rising above it all. Thankfully I will not develop a cranium of her size.

But in the meantime, and in the quest of seeking enlightenment, this cliché really does piss me off. I want to stamp all over it and tell it to fuck off. I am sick and tired of waiting for life to do its ‘divine intervention’ – I want it now.

Just like horoscopes, it seems this cliché caters for the masses. And just like horoscopes, I will pay attention to it daily in the hope it is self-tailored to me and all the things my little heart desires.

What you talking about?

I’ve decided that there are two types of conversationalist: those who do substance, and those who do not.

Need a little defining? My pleasure.

Those who do substance can deftly cover a girth of topics from politics to penises. They can delve into these subjects with revealing a little bit about themselves along the way. And, can penetrate into more intimate matters of the human psyche.

For those that do not do substance this all sounds rather deep – and surely a tad scary. That’s the misguided, amateur’s perspective on the art of substantial conversation. The virginal-like caution they exhibit when talk takes an interesting turn is both sweet and frustrating at the same time.

Those that flit, flirt and tease around the edges of substantial conversation do so as they’ve truly mastered the art of chitchat more comfortably than they should.

This is not to say that casual chitchat, frivolous banter, or chewing the fat should be frowned upon or seen as infinitely inferior. I acknowledge that without its existence we would be unable to enter so effortlessly into the substance.

But to rely solely upon it, really does sort out the meek from the brave. And hence limits your opportunities to forge bonds, establish your own sense of self and satiate your thirst for humans and the way the world works.

On a more crude, scale of social Darwinism, those who do substance increase their chances of an invite – be it as an unexpected guest at a dinner party, an impromptu work drink, or an extension of the conversation with the person you’ve found yourself fancying.

Putting all the analysis aside, it comes down to one thing: intimacy. And the consequence of this, is feeling closer to the people around you.

All the substantial conversations I’ve had with people has brought a little skip to my step for the courage it takes to share with them exactly who I am.

And that has all the makings of a life overflowing to the brim of relationships based on love, laughs and lots of last orders.

Stalking... an unnecessary evil

I swear to god without the advancements of technology, breaking up with your ex would be a hell of a lot easier.

Like a monumental thud, a resonating pebble in a pond, the Facebook announcement of a broken heart on a progress report haunts all of us so. I can’t count the amount of revelations I’ve come across of close, mutual, not-so-close friends announcing their break up electronically.

It just seems so crude, so informal, and so distant. I see the broken heart, so do I wall-to-wall them and ask if they are okay?

I would rather discover this change in their life via a face-to-face contact at the pub. It would go something like this: So how is life? Oh, you’ve broken up. How are you feeling?

Not some public announcement for your 200 friends to stumble upon when they log in.

Thankfully, my break up has by-passed that. I refused to play ball on Facebook and disclose my relationship status. I just saw it as something for me, and for me only to discuss at my liking.

But I still stumble upon Web 2.0 advancements.

I can’t manage to quieten my curiousity. I want to know what my ex is up to.

It’s not like I am seeking some pleasure that he is curled up crying himself to sleep. I guess I just want to know he is not curled up being spooned by somebody else.

But you know what? It is none of my business anymore.

He is a free man and entitled to roam the stables of single fillies. I just wish that Web 2.0 wasn’t around for me to keep checks on his progress.

With all my willpower left to muster, I must let go of scouring his Outlook calendar for non-work related meetings, checking on his Facebook pages and his friends. I have to cease being the cyber detective I have ashamedly become.

There are no clues to be gleaned. It is just over. I made the decision too. It is time to face up to facts.

Stalking only brings more questions, which will never be answered online. The Q&A session is only fully resolved in person. And failing that, it is up to me to fill in the blanks and move on.

With just one facial gesture, the questions are answered. No riddle there.

I could twitter about that…