Megan Stielstra's Blog

My friend was in a relationship with this woman, we'll call her Jill. It was not especially healthy (this is where everyone reading this post nods, thinking "I too have experienced an unhealthy relationship!"), but my friend was in love, so unhealthy things could be worked through. This went on for a while, but eventually, my friend ended the relationship but still had the heartache, and imagined Jill transforming into a good, positive thing instead of the aforementioned unhealthiness. A couple of times, my friend met Jill for coffee to see if they could (air quotes) "be friends" (everyone reading this post nods again). Obviously, they couldn't: Jill wanted my friend back and my friend wanted to be wanted back. My friend would tell us how maybe Jill had changed, maybe their relationship had changed (nodding, nodding, nodding).

It's been a couple of months now of my friend not seeing Jill. Of refusing Jill's requests for get-togethers and, eventually, Jill's phone calls altogether (i.e. Ceremony of Removing Jill's Number From Cell Phone). Last night, we were having dinner with my friend, who casually said, "I went out with Jill on Friday." My heart sank: not only was I worried for my friend, I had also, over the past Jill-free months, informed my friend excatly what I'd thought of Jill all along but had been keeping to myself because I wanted to be a good supportive friend to my friend, who, for the record, is a very good friend. Who I care about extremely and want to protect like wild packs of rabies-infested dogs. So you can imagine, the words I had in reference to Jill were not the nicest of words. I wondered, if now my friend and Jill are getting back together, is my friend going to remember that I called Jill a @*#$&*! and hate me forever?

I didn't need to worry. My friend went on to tell us about going out Friday with Jill, and listening to her talk, and having that moment when you look at someone you were once in love with/obssessed with/insane over and realize, "this person isn't so damned great at ALL. This person has got some problems with a capital PROB! This person needs herself some THERAPY! This person SUCKS!"

pause: I know, there are several post-relationship moments when we all think this about an ex. For the most part, we are totally kidding ourselves and are saying such things to sound really strong when the truth is we want nothing more than our ex to sweep through the window on a flying carpet, grasp us in his/her strong arms, dip us low to the floor and say, cowboy style, "I've changed, doll. Let me spend the rest of my life showing you how," and then there's Never Never Land, with good wine and sheets with a high thread count.

But my friend really meant it, really saw Jill for who she was and now, happily, has no desire to renew anything with Jill. Or see her, or accidentally run into her (and we ALL want to "accidentally" run into our exes, preferably when we look really hot and have someone equally as hot on our arm).

Here's the point: listening to my friend, I wondered how many times I've gone through this same thing. Crazy-obsessing over someone who really isn't that great, only to realize this someone's lack-of-greatness months (or years) later. Imagine what I could have done with all that TIME! The people I might have met, the work I could have completed, the thoughts I could've thunk! It's such a hindsight thing: we ALL have felt this way, we ALL can look back over the history of our lives and see the moment when we've done this, yet we all will probably do it again because it's uncontrollable. We will obsess about Jill, and Tom and Bill and Chad and Liz and all of them, and then we will wonder WHY we obsessed. We will vow not to obsess again, and we will immediatly break that vow when the next Jill comes along.

Until, of course, a Christopher comes along, and then we are not only safe from the Jill's of the world, but we're safe from ourselves.