PLOT TWIST: I am writing the advice I need to hear. I begin fruitless arguments knowing that I’m prying open any sense of closure, and I have to go down every road to see the dead ends for myself. It doesn’t matter how much I thought I knew that ex-people don’t suddenly go, “Wow, you have located the hole in my argument! You are right that my logic is flawed, and now my gut will change its mind and my heart’s brain will decide to love you. You are so good at debate. Are you in Model UN? Let me guess—you represent the country of France, because you, too, speak the language of love, and resemble Kim in her and Kanye’s Vogue spread, and because you’re just so, gosh, idk, lovable!!!

Eventually, these attempts dwindle down from in-person fights to long phone calls to essay-emails to petty texts to Snapchats of piles of dog shit on the street to nothing. I guess the only way out is through. But I don’t think you should have to like, earn the “Out of the Woods” moment by exhausting yourself, you know? It’s possible I took Charles Grodin too seriously when, as the doctor in Louie, he said: “The bad part is when you forget her, when you don’t care about her, when you don’t care about anything. The bad part is coming, so enjoy the heartbreak while you can, for godsakes.”

Right now, taking care of yourself means not making time or space for what is over. This is not a betrayal of the love you once had or the person you now miss, and that person probably does not want you to be in pain. (If they do, all the more reason to become your own hero and leave ’em in the dust.) Self-care is not anti-love; its practice will actually serve the love you’ll have in the future. Self-care can never backfire, like, Oh no, I took too-good care of myself and now I’m closed off from the world and living in a giant shoe off a beaten path with passive woodland creatures. Self-care = learning about yourself = knowing who you are = self-respect. When the insecurity is at a minimum and your walls can come down, THAT’S when you are the most open to the world and capable of loving. That is when the connection you find will be its most true, and more valuable than whatever’s on the other line of this phone call.

I leave you with something found in my Notes app from the subway ride home after seeing the singer Joy Williams live:

    1. She talked about how many changes took place in her life in a condensed amount of time and how, in the face of a challenge, you can either break down or break open.

    2. Her voice is a force of nature and she exudes the kind of confidence borne out of necessity.

    3. Shows always feel too long but I turned my phone off and looked up the whole time and it went by like that.

    4. Normally at times of heartbreak I feel torn between (a) being a Girl and stopping myself from self-care because it feels somehow at odds with the relationship I am mourning and the person I was then, because I don’t want to harden, because it was nice to have someone chase my butt; and (b) being a Man and moving on and wearing asexualized clothing and becoming a writing vampire and detaching emotionally under the guise of “strength.” Joy finished the show with the song “Woman,” and I felt like being capable of love is not counterproductive to strength and vice versa, and how good it is to be in this place because it means that something new can unfold.

    5. When I did finally check my phone, I saw a text from Lola: “There’s a fixed essential part of my being that only comes alive in the place where romancé ends.” ♦