Call Me by Your (other) Name

Dating power moves, modern love and a dead shark.

artwork by @whitingglenn

I recently changed the name of my complicated beau to TOXIC TOXIC TOXIC on my phone. 

This was to a) remind me of the obvious and b) because I was running out of rational ideas.

But why didn’t you block him? Said the frustrated and perhaps stronger, more self righteous than me.

I did block him.

Then I unblocked, blocked and unblocked him again. 

It seems silly to think that these decisive actions we make with our phones can solve problems in a couple of taps;

Lonely? Swipe right.

Fed up with it? Block.

At your actual wits end? Edit contacts name; SOS/ OH NO NOT AGAIN/ TOXIC TOXIC TOXIC.

Earlier this summer Chloe Caldwell wrote in Vogue that in matters of modern love, blocking someone has become a dating power move.

“There are millions of reasons to block someone: to maintain your peace, to win the argument, to have a boundary, to end a relationship, to ease the anxiety of waiting for someone to text back. But maybe the most appealing part of blocking is the (sometimes-false, often fleeting) sense of control it gives you.”

I can attest to the latter section of this statement, since I only blocked Chris when my feelings ran away with me.

I feel like there’s this scramble at the start of relationships to not fall first - whoever falls first gets hurt, whoever falls last retains the power. But what happens when you both fall at the same time and the situation still isn’t going anywhere?

If you are me, you try changing their name in your contact list.

Over the last 6 months I’ve called TOXIC TOXIC TOXIC many things; Crazy Chris, Chris Chris Chrisss, baby, v cute one. 

The last time I saw him I found myself saying “You suck,” while flinging his underwear across my bed. 

“I know,” He said.

At this point we were about three weeks past break up number 4 and one day before break up number 5.

The conversations we had about our relationship always seemed to end with “But we’ve said this all before,” followed by around a month of silence then a spontaneous and sweaty reunion.

I saw a post on instagram recently that said “Why didn’t Carrie’s friends just kill Big?”

This made me laugh. 

Why didn’t they?

Some days I wish for any other person to be in love with; the extremely cute barman at my local pub who thinks I like fresh orange juice in my Campari sodas, the tall blonde neighbour that lives downstairs, the guy from Hinge who is nice but wears chino’s. 

Of course changing Chris’s name did not stop me from replying to his midnight text or from having feelings for him. 

Did the impulsion to do it come from my head, my heart or my subconscious?

And who has the power now?

The word hopeless springs to mind. 

As you can maybe tell from my SATC reference earlier, like many I often turn to sardonic instagram accounts and pop culture to make sense of shitty situations. This is probably what prompted me to quote the movie Annie Hall during a recent therapy session.

“A relationship is like a shark,” I said confidently. “It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we’ve got on our hands is a dead shark.” 

My therapist asked me then if I had a cuddly toy which I could use to impart some of my misguided affection. I politely agreed this would be a good idea but refrained from telling her I had just bought a new vibrator. 

“I love you Chris,” I said in a Sunday text to TOXIC TOXIC TOXIC, the day of break up number 5. “Can’t do this anymore. Can we please just end it properly?”

“End it properly ok,” He said.

“Yes, I mean it,” I said. “I really do love you lots.” 

“Me too.”

Neither of us have any power in the situation it seems. 

And that’s the gamble isn’t it. 

You can learn all the lingo helpful in modern love, read articles and books about it, educate yourself as best you can on toxicity, red flags, green flags, blocking, unblocking, bread crumbing, love bombing but none of it really prepares you for battle. 

“You just have to let it run its course,” Said a particularly non judgemental friend. 

And let it run I did, for 6 months.   

I realised lately that in the four years I spent with my ex, I never blocked him once. 

But that was then and this is now. 

Love is a strong word that describes very strong feelings and there are lots of different kinds of love. 

Modern love is sending photos of yourself in a gold bikini, Modern love is kissing in the kitchen until dizzy, Modern love is breaking up and making up, Modern love is Marlboro Lights and Vogue Blues, Modern love is him telling you he likes it when you wear tight tops, Modern love is never going out for dinner together - not even once, Modern love is believing a text says more than it does, Modern love is smelling him in your bed, Modern love never seems to end, Modern love has no closure, Modern love is trying to stay sober, Modern love is hot and cold, Modern love is seeing your ex on the Ubahn, Modern love is feeling like you’ll never date again, Modern love is not a big deal, Modern love isn’t real, Modern love is blocked/unblocked, Modern love is not enough. 

“I miss it,” I told my therapist.

“Yes,” she said gently, “Now you have to grieve the shark.”