"Thank u, next"

“Thank you, next” is the very sassy way of acknowledging a finished love story and promptly moving on as though one was never in love.

It’s the business-like counterpart of the simpering “I have loved and I have lost”. I must admit that I am guilty of both, from wildly flinging myself into the chaos of love to discarding the person I once adored. What I now realize is this cool, smoothing over of the bubbling, messy love shared with another is a desperate attempt to collect oneself.

The truth is, there’s always a part of us left in the other, no matter how much we hate them or that part of us we left behind. Sometimes we try to unblock the contact just to see if our presence could still have the same effect - sometimes it works and we watch with satisfaction the realization that we were smarter at this game. But having committed to someone always leaves us a little hurt and a little healed. We chose them at the time because they were better than the last, and we chose the next because they were better than him… Until we realize our house of cards is about to fall down without a roof. Maybe the foundation was cracked or the cards were flimsy, or maybe we were unsure when placing each piece.

But when everything falls apart we still look for ourselves in everything we left behind.

One day, I wondered why I loved each of them so much, and so differently. Going over my records of the rollercoasters of emotion from each time, I affectionately held those versions of myself - where I was safe, angry, happy, hurt. Each relationship made me grow somehow - whether vertical or inwards or sideways.

Here’s a small list of what I’ve learned so far:

• Acceptance, confidence, and veneration of the body

• Intimacy grows necessarily both with and without sex

• The ease of travelling

• The value of friendship

• The pain of cultural divides

• The importance of familial and clan relations

• The breathless vulnerability of being completely transparent

• The fragility of trust

• The weight of financial freedom

• The work in building foundations for the future

• The luxurious sins of the rich

• The comfort of silence

• The joy in sharing art

I had this idea that I’d think of my past lovers as statues in the garden of my heart. There for decoration, but necessary in providing me with some kind of satisfaction. Some are immobile in stone, some come to life at the touch of a hand. If I am feeling particularly nostalgic, I may lay a flower by their pedestal.

I am grateful for all that has past, and for all that is to come.