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20-Nov-2019 11:51

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Yet when I try to tell someone who is single this rule, they genuinely never believe me.“You don’t understand.

Dating is different nowadays.”“He’s just gotten out of a relationship, so he wants to take things slow.”“She’s just really independent so she likes to be alone most days.”“No, no, you don’t get it.

I need time to breathe when I’m angry or else I lash out like a heavy-footed she-beast.

In my relationship (but maybe not yours), the best medicine in the world for intra-marital conflict is for me to be by myself, preferably with some sleep time in there somewhere. In fact, I’ve uniformly rejected every piece of relationship advice that I’ve ever been given — thank GOODNESS, because relationship advice is fucking dumb. In all the relationships I’ve witnessed from the sidelines of my longterm union, this is the one rule that has never gone away, never wavered, never been disproven.

We live on different continents, but inevitably, a few times a year, we find each other somewhere in the world, have a few days of romance, and then go our separate ways.

This arrangement would generally be called a friend with benefits, or a fuck buddy, or a romantic friendship, or perhaps even a relationship—with “no strings attached.” But let’s be real: There are always strings, aren’t there?

He’s got a super busy job, so it’s just hard for him to make time for me.”“She’s just spending a lot of time with the girls lately.”At first, when people told me these things, I tried to push them.

I’ve been in an obnoxiously happy relationship for fifteen years.

I try not to be a twat about it, so I don’t go around giving advice or writing something twatty like “Lessons I’ve Learned From Being Happily Married, Not That You Would Know You Sad, Pitiable, Single Who Will Likely Have Your Dead Face Eaten By Your Pet”.

But occasionally, a non-attached person will ask my advice about someone that he or she is dating.

But to the ones among you who don’t want to waste any more time with someone who won’t commit to you, heed my advice.

In a few days, I’m going to Cuba on vacation with a guy I’ve been sleeping with for eight years, but whom I've never once called my boyfriend.

It’s a feeling that’s almost unbelievable in its cruelty.