Breaking up is hard to do. Whether it’s explosive, tearful, or just plain unpleasant, in general it’s going to be rough. Even when the decision to end things is a supposedly mutual one, it’s not an enjoyable experience. That period of time when you’ve made the decision to end things, but haven’t found the right moment in which to do so, is the worst. Texts, phone calls, meetings in public – everything has to seem relatively normal to onlookers and to the other party, while inside you’re thinking of the expiration date (or beginning to doubt yourself). 

That moment before you finally break the news is painful. Those butterflies that looped semi-pleasantly through your stomach in those early days of romance are resurrected in the form of stomach-churning monsters. But then it’s done and you can heave a sigh of relief. Or can you? If you’re breaking up with someone in a place as small as Cambridge, it certainly will not be over. In Cambridge, everyone knows everyone and lives within about three-square miles of each other. This means you will have to face that post-break-up collision with your ex at some point, and probably sooner than you’d wish!

When I run into an ex (especially in public) I’m not really sure how to act. Obviously, the whole dynamic of the relationship has changed, but in the majority of my relationships we were friends before we were romantically involved and I’d be much happier just returning to that platonic status. Why can’t we just go back to the way things were before? Well, because I now know too much; secrets they’ve told me and confessions they’ve made hang in the air between us, weaving themselves around stammered small-talk and awkward smiles. Even where I’ve been the one to end the relationship and it has been a relatively angst-free break-up, the experience is still too difficult to bear.

And if you do decide to give friendship a try, you will probably start to notice things about them that you didn’t before, irritating, weird, sometimes downright creepy things; things that make you wonder how on earth you didn’t see them when you were a couple. This makes me wonder about the phenomenon of being ‘blinded by love’. Is love really so ocularly challenged? I’m not sure I can ever say I’ve been in love, but there is definitely something in those first few weeks of a relationship which affects our perceptive capacities and distorts our impressions of a person. It’s a kind of dreamy haze, where you’re high on the loved-up feeling of a new relationship and, consequently, you’re great, they’re great and you think it can’t get any better. That’s precisely it, too – it can’t get any better, because the mists will eventually clear to reveal the characteristics and quirks which, at best make you sigh, but at worst set your teeth on edge. 

I think I suffer from this idealisation period worse than some of my friends. I realise that it’s incredibly unhealthy to work at getting to know someone through the lens of who I want them to be rather than who they really are. This mechanism for choosing partners leads to disillusionment and a failed relationship. Maybe one day I’ll snap myself out of it, or someone will live up to my ideals, but for now, I’ve accepted that my attitude will lead to short-term romances rather than something more durable. I’ll just have to keep practising my awkward wave for that inevitable run-in at Sainsbury’s.