We write people out of our lives on a daily basis without a second thought. We decide to start buying our morning coffee at place X instead of place Y, despite the nice old man behind the counter at place Y. Most of us have cut off a friend or two, with the only after thought being, ‘that f*cking bitch,’ and a select few even cut off ties with relatives, both distant and close—fathers don’t see their children, children don’t acknowledge their mothers, etc. So why is it, that when it comes to exes, we have such a hard time letting go?

This week’s topic: when ‘goodbye forever’ really means, ‘I’ll see you on Thursday.’

As far as I’m concerned, there are only three circumstances that justify keeping it touch with an ex: circumstance one: you plan on reconciling; circumstance two: you want to have the option of reconciling; and circumstance three: you’re completely over it. But really, there’s only one justifiable circumstance, because honestly, circumstances one and two only work if your ex is likeminded (which if he was, you’d probably still be together—so, so much for circumstances one and two).

Unfortunately, the majority of the people I know keep in touch with their exes for a variety of different, exceedingly complicated reasons—and really, who can blame them? Regardless of the shit that has lead to the breakup, there is a definite post-breakup pattern that emerges in almost every case. First, there is the pain (the gut wrenching, self-blaming, psychosomatic nausea-inducing pain)—then, the rationale sets in (the ‘this is for the best, the two of us together suck at life’ self-pep talk)—then, the eagerness to get back in the game (as soon as I lose these 5 lbs, I’ll tell what’s-her-face to set me up with what’s-his-name)—then, the inevitable first date (which is, by the way, so atrocious, that you want to take your German shepherd into a bunker and swallow some cyanide). This is usually the breaking point—the point where you start to question ever finding a decent human being, the point where all that bullshit that made you miserable in the relationship really doesn’t seem so bad in comparison to this new tool whose hands are always clammy and whose favorite book is—wait for it—Angels and Demons. This is usually when the nostalgic phase begins. Suddenly, all the f*cked up shit that transpired between the two of you vanishes from your memory, only to be replaced by the good-times-montage that plays repeatedly in your head, coupled with flashbacks to the fulfilling and familiar physical intimacies shared, and topped off with the scent of his cologne, which apparently everyone and their mother is wearing today. And now, while you inherently know that the two of you are simply two halves of one miserable fate, you cannot help but answer the phone call, reply to the email, or even make that call and write the email yourself.

Letting go of the person you were once so committed to, so open with, and so genuinely attracted to is a difficult thing. But, if you still have feelings for this person and choose to stay in touch anyway, knowing full well that the two of you will never work out—the moment of truth will come, and it will be shocking. Maybe it will be on a Friday morning, as he’s leaving your apartment content, while you’re feeling a little bit like a whore—or maybe it will be a phone conversation in which you realize why you thought he was a selfish, inconsiderate prick in the first place. Regardless of how and when, it will happen, and it will blow.

This is why I recommend keeping your distance until after you have completely moved on. At that point, him making a douchebag move will no longer matter because hopefully, you’ll have a brand new good-times-montage playing in your head—and it will star a brand new douchebag, with wider shoulders and a nicer smile.

Keeping in touch with an ex that you still have feelings for, but who will nonetheless always remain an ex, is masochism of the worst kind. In fact, I think that if there isn’t already a fetish market out there consisting of videos of exes sharing five-minute conversations about the weather, followed by the inevitable ‘I miss you,’ which is then trailed by hours of self-loathing—I think some bright and upcoming entrepreneur should definitely look into it (my cut is 15%). But what’s even worse, is if you’re still turning to each other in times of intense horniness and/or boredom—I mean, at that point, you may as well rub some sand paper all over your sun-burnt skin and then go bathe in the Dead Sea.

It’s hard, letting go of the important people in our lives. It’s hard. But the way I figure it, if my uncle thrice removed can go on living day to day without so much as acknowledging the fact that he has a daughter somewhere on the planet, you can resist answering the phone when someone whose genotype is not—you know, half yours, calls. My advice, save the small talk for when you’re over it—when you are no longer thinking about where he is and what he’s doing first thing in the morning; when you have forgotten how his breath feels against your neck; when you realize that life has gone on—and he was just the stepping stone that got you to today.

Comments? Suggestions for the next topic? Burning questions about love, relationships, or sex that your psychologist refuses to address based on ethics? Message me! I have no ethics.

ask.olya@gmail.com

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