I've learned to mention it by the second date. Just so ya know, some of my closest friends are ex-girlfriends. There's nothing whatsoever to be concerned about—if we wanted to be together, we've had plenty of chances—but some women find it off-putting. So if it weirds you out, please let me know sooner rather than later. Dategirls are never offput by this early on. If anything, they misinterpret this as evidence of a loving, forgiving nature that I do not actually possess. So why give the little speech? To set up the speech six months down the road, when Dategirl's traumatized by, say, Maddie knowing that the chicken masala gave me food poisoning. To me, this is a no-brainer. What good is having diarrhea, after all, if you can't graphically depict the symptoms to your appalled ex-girlfriend? "But that's so intimate..." Dategirl will say, suddenly feeling threatened. And then I launch into the 6-month speech: "Look. I was straight with you from Day Two about this friendship. You have no right to have a problem with it now..."
Allie and I have long looked for a project we can write together. I thought I had a pretty good idea: a he-said/she-said guide to being friends after a breakup. She gently declined. "Why on earth would I wish this friendship upon another living soul?"
So I guess I'm writing this on my own.
First of all, much as most relationships shouldn't happen, so is it with ex-ships. Most exes should just go away. Far away. I know it feels good to know that this person doesn't hate you, but that's no reason to invite the unique strains of ex-ship into your lives. I personally think the strains are worth it. I like that these friends know my every last wart and button; that they turn up my thermostat without asking; that they decide that the vase looks better there and presume to move it; that I can make them scratch that spot on my back I can't reach; that they know they can criticize me with impunity. I don't enjoy this level of platonic intimacy with any other friends—they haven't earned it, and neither have I—and I've yet to meet a Dategirl for whom I'd even consider giving it up. I'd sooner be alone for the rest of my life.
But it ain't easy. I've tried ex-ships and failed. I don't pretend to know all, here, but my experience is that the following ex-ship scenarios are doomed:
- Evolution, not revolution. People who try to transition to ex-ship immediately are lying to themselves, IMO. Going from planning a future together to talking about your respective dates the other night is like shifting from fifth to reverse. You'll scatter your transmission in tiny pieces all over the freeway. Stop clinging. You need time apart—for me, at least a year—time to forget what you were and become something else. This is hugely important. And it's still no guarantee that after a year, you'll be able to be friends.
- Assignment of blame. Once this becomes an ongoing priority, forget about being friends afterward. Of all the legacies that can't survive the romantic era, this is #1. It's more destructive than physical attraction. If you're still talking about this nonsense, you haven't moved on. Thou shalt not assign fault for the breakup. It just wasn't right.
- No right of succession. Your ex has Dateboys of her own to contend with, and they'll be varying degrees of accepting. One of the great burdens of ex-ship is that it's incumbent upon you to make them comfortable with the thought of you. Is it fair? Hell no. You were here first. If they don't like it, they can take a hike, right? Wrong. It's on you. You're the extenuating circumstance, the complicating factor. Your ex has risked her romance in order to accommodate your friendship. Accommodate back. Once you get past all the weirdness, you'll probably find you have quite a bit in common with your successor. And you'll find no bigger fan when you insult your ex.
- The trade-in. Friendship is, of course, a subset of any worthwhile romantic relationship, but I'll be damned if I don't see people who were never friends suddenly vow to be friends afterward. It doesn't work like that. Friendship is a treasured component that you labor to keep, not something for which you trade-in sex. I've actually had the following breakup conversation: me saying we're not really friends, so what's the point; her, gradually accepting this, then saying "Okay, so we'll be just friends now." Having freshly tolerated my being friends with two exes, she thought ex-ship was her entitlement, the consolation prize awarded to romances that didn't work out. Alas. There was nothing to salvage.
- Different pages. This is obvious, but it's happened to me. I'd taken my year off, forgotten what we were, and I was delighted to be her friend. And then we'd be hanging out and I'd catch her getting weepy. Not bloody allowed. Pull the plug.