So…you might have noticed my posting has been a little light around these parts lately. A lot’s been going on. A few friends have come to visit, I’ve been hard at work on a new freelance project, still wrestling with the cottage, projects at my own house—I guess none of that’s so out of the ordinary. What is out of the ordinary? A couple months ago, Max and I decided to break up. And, frankly, it’s been hard on many levels. Personally, of course, but continuing to post here with this at the forefront of my mind has felt…weird. So I took a little time to myself to get my head right, regroup, and recharge. I hope that’s understandable.
I think and hope that it’s fair to say this decision did not come at all lightly, but was about as mutual as such a decision can be. For those of you who are new here, this might not matter to you at all, but for those of you who have been around for a while, you probably have a sense that this is sort of a big deal in my life. Max and I were together for over four years. We had a good ride. Nay, a great ride. In that time, we moved in together in the Brooklyn apartment, we supported each other through several jobs, we adopted two dogs, we travelled, we got engaged, we bought a house. Together, we experienced innumerable “firsts” for both of us, and saw each other through countless fun times, difficult times, and everything in between. I wouldn’t trade those years for the world, and I mean that sincerely.
Not everything is meant to last forever. It’s strange. I don’t think of our relationship as failing—not at all. If you’ll forgive me the cheesy extended analogy, I think of it kind of like a rollercoaster ride. You get on, there’s a steep ascent, and then it all comes rushing at you—the quick turns, the loop de loops, the steep climbs and dramatic falls and all that speed, and then it slows and eventually, it stops. There’s that moment in the middle there where you feel like you could stay on the ride forever—where you might wish it would never end—but it does, and you do the right thing. You unbuckle yourself, get up, and move on. The ride didn’t fail because it stopped. It just ran its course.
You might be able to tell that I have no idea how to do this. Having to do this at all is, admittedly, a little odd: making so public what feels like an intensely personal and intimate matter. I don’t honestly know how our relationship came across from the perspective of a stranger reading this blog (or following our instagrams or twitter accounts or whatever…), but I can assure you that it was good. Max is a wonderful person—possibly the kindest I’ve ever known, smart, funny, charming, handsome, intensely sweet, extraordinarily talented, all of it. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. In so many ways, I feel like we grew up together. Challenged each other, taught each other, made each other better people. I’ll forever be grateful and honored to have had that. Moving on from being a couple hasn’t been particularly easy, but it hasn’t been bad, either. We care deeply for each other. We’re there for each other. The nature and definition of our relationship has changed, absolutely, but we’re on great terms. We’re approaching this in more or less the same way we tried to approach our relationship: with caring, compassion, mutual respect, and love. There’s no dramatic story behind all of this, no sides to be taken by any of our friends—none of that. It’s all OK.
If you’re one of those people who does care about this post and has made it this far, I’m hoping I can anticipate some questions you might have.
This blog isn’t really going to change. Max is taking over the Brooklyn apartment as his full-time residence, and I’m now a full-time Kingston-ite. At the risk of crossing too many personal lines, the house is more or less mine, and I’m staying in it, which I’m happy to do. It became apparent to me pretty early on after buying the house that I had no real desire to live in NYC any longer—I really feel like I’ve found my home here in Kingston, and in this house, and it’s still my great pleasure to do my best to restore it and really make a life here. I love being a part of this community and while leaving the Brooklyn apartment behind me isn’t easy, I’ll admit that it feels kind of nice to take that responsibility off my plate. It was my home for two solid years (and my kind-of home for two more after buying the house), and I’m happy that it’ll continue to have such a wonderful person living in it. It’s a special place.
The dogs are staying with me. This is a tough one to talk about, because it’s no secret that we adopted both of them together and we both love them so, so much. I think what it comes down to is trying to figure out what’s best for them, and they can have a better life here. They’re more at ease in Kingston and in the house, they have a yard to run around in—it’s just for the best. Max can of course see them whenever he wants, and there’s no debate about that. They’re still his, too, even though we’re not together. We’re figuring it out.
I’m not sure what more there is to say. I’m disabling comments on this post for what I hope are understandable and obvious reasons—this is just one of those things that I don’t really feel compelled to field a lot of input on. If you’re feeling compelled to comment, trust me, I appreciate it.
I hope you’re having a great weekend—I’ll be busy hauling demo debris to the dump, and back on Monday to kick off a new exciting project that’s been in the works. Until then, thank you for reading and I’ll see you very soon.