Open Wounds

Sometimes we don’t really get closure on relationships. It’s no phone call, it’s no email, it’s nothing. Like sinning through omission it never feels right, but it seems the least wrong. And it drives people absolutely mad, especially the communicators. Regardless of whether the person didn’t find the other attractive, interesting, or intelligent, I think many would rather face not being any of those things to facing an awkward disconnect.

It comes down to an issue of fear, I’m beginning to think. People are afraid to dish and take the truth. In many ways I think people are cutting off communication as an act of compassion, rather than discussing their issues with the other person. However, the question then becomes, what is the most compassionate thing to do when you want to get out of a southbound relationship? How do we walk the paper-thin lines of etiquette and emotional maturity?

To be honest, I’ve never cared too much for Emily Post. I hardly believe etiquette is an adequate reference when dealing with case-by-case individuals who all behave differently. But let’s talk about emotional maturity for a moment: to be a truly compassionate person, what choices are best when saying goodbye? There are a multitude of answers to that question, all with a gradient of least to most mature methods.

Let’s try to imagine an individual with a psychological disorder, for which they are not receiving treatment. Let’s also imagine you’ve been dating this individual for a few weeks, and it’s now clear that the disorder interferes with, or will interfere with, a future relationship. You’ve decided to jump this sinking ship of a relationship, so to save yourself, do you pick the speedboat, the rowboat, or the inner tube?

Maybe you pick the speedboat—you just have to get out as quickly as possible, and by dint of the other choking on your exhaust, it’s obvious you’re gone without ever opening your mouth. They never know why you left, and honestly, who cares? He or she is obviously so screwed up that they wouldn’t even know how to handle it, right? Or maybe they would go ballistic and emotional and it’d all just be a hot mess you want no part of.

But maybe you pick the rowboat—you’ve got time and energy enough to row away slowly, and you’re able to at least say goodbye. You don’t get into specifics as to why you’re leaving, and maybe you fib a little. The dog died, grandma’s in the hospital, you’d rather just be alone: whatever your excuse it gets you out of it, and at least you’re not cutting them off like a drugged up conjoined twin. It’s the kind thing to do, no? And maybe you muster up a crocodile tear for your eyes they always told you were beautiful.

And then there’s the inner tube—you’re ready to float around for a while, and you know the calm winds won’t be taking you anywhere soon. But you’re ready to brave it out, and you’ve got the maturity to take their reaction. You explain to them that they’ve clearly got some issues to work out and that you can’t be in a relationship with someone who isn’t willing to seek treatment for these issues. And best yet, you give them the benefit of the doubt and promise them you’d think about seeing them after they’ve worked things out, so long as the two of you are still available.

So these are just three metaphorical options that came to mind, and any is a viable option. It comes down the issue of compassion ultimately, though, as you question how much you are able to sympathize with another person. Love can be tough, and sometimes you’ve gotta get tough on those you love. And in many ways, it’s not about loving the other person, or even humanity. It’s really about loving yourself in the end.