What a glorious time ÷ the breeze is blowing, the flowers are blossoming and sorority girls everywhere are taking advantage of the year's two temperate weeks by trading in their velour tracksuits for emblazoned butt shorts. It's spring, when our thoughts turn to love, or as it seems, the lack thereof.
Everywhere I turn, friends are greeting the new season and the end of long-term, high-stakes relationships. Maybe it's the euphoria that is occasioned by a fresh beginning. Maybe it's simply that libidos are hiked up as high as hemlines. Any way you slice it, though, there's no denying: Commitment is going out of style.
This weekend, for the first time in a long time, I wore green to a stoplight party. In layman's lingo, that means I've rejoined the ranks of the single. Gentlemen, form an orderly queue.
However, not everything is as easy to change as a wardrobe. Severing the cord isn't all reveling and revelation; as the saying goes, breaking up is hard to do.
For repeat offenders, the tribulations are particularly trying. When you're infatuated with infatuation, is there a safe way to break the cycle of abuse, to put down the love potion and back away? Does it, as with other addictions, have to be all-or-nothing, or is there a happy medium to be struck somewhere between devastation and delirium?
What we really need is a 12-step program for those addicted to love, a key to dodging the withdrawal, both mental and physical, that stems from resigning yourself to nights without a fix.
The first step to recovery is, of course, admitting that you have a problem ÷ and it's not the asshole you just broke up with.
The second step is looking around and realizing that, in fact, most everyone else in the world has a problem, too ÷ complacency. Think about the long-term couples you know. Granted, some of them may be madly, soulfully in love with each other. However, it's a safe bet that most couples, at least in the college years, are coupling for the wrong reasons ÷ not that you can blame them, given the oh-my-god-you're-not-engaged-yet-you-will-die-alone message promulgated by everyone over 30 with a mouth.
Those couples, too, are slaves to addiction and its ugly cousin, codependency. You gotta ask yourself: Is that really better than being single?
Step three: If it ends bitterly, give back the gifts. Diamonds may be a girl's best friend, but ladies, you don't need a ring to get rocked. Make sure he knows it. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. I will not be giving back my iPod · because I'm sure it would only serve as a painful reminder of his loss. So, really, it's like I have a duty to keep it.
Step four: Take down the pictures. Delete the e-mails and IM logs. In fact, erase all physical/digital reminders of your ex altogether. You don't need them at every turn to conjure up images of conjugation and rekindle feelings of prenuptial bliss.
Step five: Sever communication. When a relationship is built on love, the post-breakup let's-be-friends thing rarely works out, at least not for a long while. After all, what can you really say to someone who's tied your stomach up in knots? For that matter, what can you say to someone who's tied you up? The telephone is like the love addict's hypodermic needle ÷ the route to a quick, albeit painful, fix. Put it down.
Step six: Demonize your ex. This is the only completely optional step in the program, a measure reserved for true junkies. Granted, pretending your love was loathe-worthy all along may not be the healthiest form of self-deceit, but sometimes a little lie goes a long way toward recovery.
Steps 7-12: Goodbye Carrie, helllllllo Samantha ÷ see other people. This is the last resort, the Hail Mary of hookups. As one friend put it, "I think the best thing about the relationship might have been the second stage of fallout ÷ right after, ÎWHY?!?' you get to, ÎHey · '"
Sometimes when you hit rock bottom, it's all you can do to · hit it. It goes without saying, however, that this step requires some caution. The only thing lower than the pity fuck is the self-pity fuck ÷ the person you get it on with just to feel like you've still got it goin' on.
Choose carefully · and soberly.
Caitlin Hall has been strung out on the same sauce for three years. She is a molecular and cellular biology and philosophy junior and can be reached at letters@wildcat.arizona.edu.