The Beginners Guide To Conscious Unbuddying

Seeking Derangements is a monthly column by 20-something Arielle Edie, who shares dating confessions as a sex worker in NYC.

---

I’m going through another break up with the same idiot I’ve been trying to end things with for almost a year now. There seems to be an endless supply of writing on how to make friends as a post-college adult, but rarely do I see helpful advice on how to end a toxic connection during a time when loneliness seems more lethal than ever before. So whether you’re trying to ditch a friend, a lover, or a hook-up past its prime, hopefully my weekend of conscious-unbuddying will provide you with answers.

---

Part 1: The Sugar Daddy Supplement Program

We are motivated primarily by fear of death, but secondly by little treats. It is not just enough to remind yourself how bad your current situation is, but also how much more fun it could be as a free agent. To remind yourself of this, re-establish a connection with someone you previously cut off because of the last relationship you were in.

For me, it’s my lawyer. He’s youngish, hot, always inviting me to come stay with him in LA. Plus he already has one stripper with BPD as an ex wife so I know I’m his type.

“Hiiii. Thinking about visiting LA soon. Is there a week that works for you this month?”

“I’m pretty open. Also, watch Past Lives.”

Cute!

Part 2: Hormone Replacement Therapy

The club is the love addict’s methadone clinic, and I am here tonight at The Stranger looking for someone to ease my withdrawals.

I’m nursing a red bull on the balcony, mesmerized by an aerial dancer glowing green in neon lights when I notice a floral-patterned shirt entering my peripheral. I look to my side and see a very cute but kind of fratty looking dude. Not my usual comfort zone, but I’m exploring today.

We start kissing just as a giant pink elephant starts crowd surfing below us. I have always wanted to kiss someone as pretty as him on a club balcony, overlooking the sea of chaotic bobbing partiers below. I thought it would feel cinematic. But right now, it feels more like kissing your first boy at the middle school homecoming. It’s kissing for the sake of crossing it off the list, not kissing because you can hardly help yourself from doing it. I also kind of feel shame, like I’m cheating. I pull away, a little shocked by my own embarrassment.

“I haven’t been out in almost a year,” I tell him.

“Why not,” he asks.

“I had a crazy boyfriend. We’re broken up now. But I feel weird.”

“You want help forgetting him?”

It is only then that I realize, I’m probably not gonna be able to have sex tonight without crying. Maybe I just need to find someone to dance with.

“I don’t think I’m in a place to entertain tonight,” I give him one last kiss and head towards the stairs.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

I scan the pit for my next mark. A tall, lanky guy with a big gorgeous nose and dark wavy hair comes to my attention. I let the current of the crowd push us toward each other until I feel him bump into me. He takes my hand and turns me to face him.

“Who are you with,” he asks.

“My friends,” I say as condescendingly as I can while gesturing to a group of girls I have never spoken to before.

“Well you’re with me now.”

He pulls me into him and we immediately start making out. He smells incredible and he dances like he’d be good in bed. But the longer we dance, the more I notice how young he looks.

I stop kissing him.

“I think you’re a minor.”

“Baby, what? I’m 26.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ID for a place I don’t recognize. “Look, see my ID.” The more he forces it in my face, the more I suspect that he may be a very tall child. I start to walk away but he pulls me in for one last kiss and ass squeeze before I disappear into the crowd.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

I wander into the karaoke room where twenty drunk people are absolutely butchering “Gonna Be” by The Proclaimers. I sit down on one of the benches and stretch my feet. There’s a boy on the same bench just a seat down. He looks up from his shoes just in time to catch me looking at him. I gesture to the empty space next to me.

“Come over here.”

He scoots.

“Are these your friends,” I ask.

“These are my best friends.”

I feel like he doesn’t know anyone here.

“I’ve never met these people in my life.”

I love being right about dumb shit.

“So you’re here to sing then?” I ask him.

“I’m completely tone deaf,” he says, “but I make an excellent duet partner if you wanna go up there.”

“Why would I want to duet with you if you’re tone deaf?”

“Because I sound so bad that it’ll make you seem even better than you actually are.”

We spend the rest of the night talking about nothing important, but I leave our conversation feeling… stable. We exchange Instagrams.

Part 3: Compatible or Competing Madnesses

Alone in the back of the Uber, I read through 25 missed messages from my ex. Each is filled with promises of things he’ll never do, or memories warped to seem more beautiful than they were, and questions about the new guy who just followed me on Instagram. Reading through these, is unfortunately, the most fun part of my night. In relationships like these, it is usually their flaws that keep you in it more than any mythical merits.

There was a time early in the relationship when those flaws felt compatible with mine. We were both so possessive and passionate and impulsive. And for a while, I will admit I liked being able to wind someone up so easily. I felt completely in control. I liked how mad I could get him, and I liked how desperate he was to get me back every time we broke up. And there’s a part of me wondering right now if I’ll ever receive as much love from anyone else as I do when I’m forgiving him for the unforgivable.

I’m home, sitting in the chair I was sitting in the last time we spoke. This used to be my favorite cozy place in the whole apartment, and now it’s the place where he pushed my head against the wall and threatened to bash my skull in. It’s impossible to sit in this chair now without admitting that I have no power in this relationship anymore. It’s very clear how this will resolve if I don’t resolve it myself. He’ll do whatever he thinks he can get away with until there’s no more left to do.

Part 4: Block and delete.

I….

Part 4: Block and delete.

….

Part 4: Block and delete.

….I’ll come back to this one.

Part 5: The Law of Kamie

I took the G the wrong way to an abortion once and wound up on Nostrand Ave, talking to Kamie, an older woman in a cheetah print blouse, sun glasses, and a black skirt who asked me for a dollar, but then quickly offered me a tissue from her purse when she noticed I was crying.

“You crying over a boy?” she asked me.

“Not even. Just my whole life kind of,” I told her. “I make bad choices.”

“You know what I tell myself every time I cry over a guy?” she says, “Yes, I’m crying over him. But I cried over the last one too. And the one before that. And the one before that. There’s always another one."

Kamie spoke the truth, and I am desperate to find peace in between the terror and the comfort of that truth. There will always be someone new to love. They’ll always take too long to come into your life and once they get here, the time you spend together will go by too fast. And when they go, they’ll always feel like the last person you’ll ever be able to love again. And then there will be another one. And there’s no choice except to let the feeling in and then let it leave when it's time.