“The Broken Sort” starring Hugh Grant and Sandy Bullock
I am well-versed in the break up narrative. Of course I love me some RomCom! Of course I read Jane Austen time and time again! Of course it permeates every romantic notion of a character and a story arch and the thing we know best in the whole wide world, possibly.
The meeting, the intimacy, the falling in love, the falling out of love, the contemplation, the running through the airport, the declaration of vulnerability, the hesitant look, the “I don’t know if I can believe you” type yada yada, the earnest deep listening after seeing the error in their ways, the embrace and roll credits.
Over and over again. Grow up in stability, declare autonomy, learn something, go off to college, realize it was stupid, fall out with your old self, spend years making your way back to reconciliation.
OR grow up with only falling out and discord, never having a model of safety or love, watch movies, fall in love with them instead, recreate the break up narrative all on your own- emphasis on the break up.
OR grow up with the break up narrative, never fix old broken stuff, just keep chasing after new ones believing that if you get the right person, then the story will change. Break up with that person, start looking for the golden goose without ever tracing your steps back to what keeps breaking.
We do. We keep breaking. We break trust, we break water glasses, we break a sweat, we break concentration, we break down and we look at those micro-breaks as evidence that something needs blown up. Let’s blow something up because the story says that, in order to really love something, first, you have kick the shit out of it.
Interesting.
So here I am. No gigs, feeling sorry for myself, in debt, trying to come up with a plan B, when, all of a sudden, things start happening. People start reaching out to me, sharing my music, telling me they like my songs and this morning, whilst running (slowly) it hit me:
I was in the break up narrative. I had broken up with myself six weeks ago. I had broken up with my dream self because love felt like an uphill battle, because we were all wrong for each other, because my imaginary best friend told me I should break up, who knows? But I was squarely in the break up narrative. I was the one who broke it off. And now the question is: will my goofy group of rag tag British friends help me get to the airport so I can beg my dream not to go, so I can tell my real self I had it all wrong?
Scene: She’s standing, out of breath, staring her dream self straight in the eye. Dream self wasn’t expecting this. It’s a real unexpected sandwich we’ve all eaten a thousand times. And we’re rolling. And cue dialogue:
“Wait. Don’t go. I know I’ve done a lot of stupid things and said stuff that I can’t take back. I know you have every right to turn and walk away right now, get on that plane, never speak to me again and I’ll have to learn to live with that. But before you go, I have something I need to say. Please let me say it so you know the truth and do with it what you will.
I was wrong. I was so wrong. We were happy, we weren’t perfect, but I never wanted perfect. I just wanted me and you and a life we could build together. And it was awesome. WE were awesome.
But then I did what I always do. I started looking for cracks, I started doubting what we had. I got scared that it wouldn’t last and, to save myself, I started pushing you away. And yes, it was because I didn’t feel worthy, and yes, it was because I’m used to the break up more than I am the happy ending. You know that.
But the thing that I came here to tell you was that I can see it now. I can see that punishing me was really punishing you. I can see that feeling like I didn’t deserve you cheapened everything you had given me and all the ways you’ve always been there for me. I had no right to decide how we were going to end up and I have no right to decide how this story is going to end, but I can tell you this:
the breaking up and getting back together is over. I’m done with it. Just because we break doesn’t mean we break up, and just because we break down doesn’t point to us not being enough. I can see it now. You and me together in all our messiness is ten times better than us apart. Don’t go. “
Me and my dream. Me and my life’s work. It’s messy.
I’ve played the break up narrative so many time that I’m getting tired of it. This isn’t the first time I’ve sworn off the drama and then fallen back in with my break up ways, but I’m seeing things more clearly. Every day more clearly.
You and your dream? You’ve got real work to do. It’s not up to you to squash it because you think the break up narrative is the nobler, cooler thing to do. No. How about you double down on that dream? How ‘bout you lean so far into it that its imperfections are nothing compared to the deep deep connection you both share.
I’m growing weary of the the RomCom. I haven’t picked up a romance novel in ages. I’m growing and learning and that comes with letting go of old storylines in order to integrate new ones. High five.
In the words of a great poet, “Let’s stay together.”