Many years ago in more immature times my first boyfriend and I experienced a long, awkward breakup. We more than just experienced it; we were active thespians with starring roles to a soap opera. I would have named the soap, Overwrought Recurrences. While a small corner of our rational brain lobes recognized that it was time to move on, the more creative areas of the brain decided to make the most of this poignant moment of youth. Making the most out of something doesn't always mean making the best of it.
We didn't want each other but we didn't want anyone else to have each other either. I would manage to find out who he was interested in and then show up at a party where I would casually (at least casually in my head) make comments to the other girl about how he had shown up to watch my race and drive me home the previous weekend. Of course he had only shown up at the race because he heard that I was getting friendly with a fellow runner and needed to show him who was the big dog. We spent almost a year lifting our legs and peeing over everything until he graduated and moved away, thus saving us from further humiliating events.
Despite our best efforts to act like idiots we managed to salvage the friendship and moved on from the toxic behavior. He is one of few people who has known me since school days and I am thankful for that connection to my past even with the cringe-worthy memories. Those times when I remember something particularly childish serve as a reminder to work on self awareness, because I certainly wasn't thinking, "Gee, this will cause me to flinch in horror every time I am reminded of how bratty I was." The recognition of jacknappery is quite a character building tool.
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