Are we or aren’t we? What level are we on? Should I delete Tinder? Ohhh, the situationship. Modern dating hell as we know it. The only things worse than comprehending the situationship are a) Coleslaw and B) Moving on from the situationship. I mean, I really hate coleslaw, but damn that guy I was texting for four months and emotionally planning romantic getaways that he didn’t know about with… Gimme all the coleslaw, NOW.
All jokes aside, the situationship heartache is a bloody nightmare. I’ve thought about this a lot, about how the end of these can feel just as bad, if not worse, than the end of actual relationships. Why though? Why is the person we never really had, one we struggle so hard to lose?
I think that’s it, we never had him so we never knew. We never knew if we would be the rural Ireland equivalent of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively, we never knew if his mother would have loved us and brought us on cute coffee dates, or if we would be on her hit list as the daughter-in-law from hell. We never knew if our new highlights and choppy bob would look good on his Instagram, if he has to obsessively check he definitely packed his passport every 7 minutes (me, guilty), if we would be one of those excessively bickering couples, or the ones who look like they should be on a quote on Tumblr… WE JUST NEVER KNEW OKAY.
I think back to several situationships and still wonder: “What if?” There were different characters with different personalities, what would have happened if we had made the finish line? The likelihood is nothing. Clearly we weren’t supposed to be, yet some of those hurts linger like the smell of egg on crockery. Not overly obvious until you take notice, and boom, overwhelming your soul.
When you go through a relationship breakup, you’ve lived it all together, so sometimes there’s little to wonder about. The situationship hurts because sometimes it can be such a significant amount of time that is just whittled down to nothing, for a reason you have little idea about. Anything you commit time or energy to is going to hurt when it ends, whether you print the words “MY BOYFRIEND” across his forehead or not. (Would not advise by the way…)
So here is your reminder to stop beating yourself up, that label means little to your heart. In fact, it means zilch. It can’t tell the difference between societies norms and your emotions, it just listens to how you’re feeling. You liked him, he made you laugh, and now he’s gone, bloody ouch is right.
Your hurt is your hurt, even if he did turn out to be coleslaw whilst you were on the hunt for potato salad. Allow yourself to feel the heartache, it is yours after all. Cookie Dough for me hun, cheers.