Tag Archives: Vanessa Huxtable

Should Exes Get Back Together?

presidentabrahamlincolnmarytoddlincolnLately, the ex factor keeps messing with my mind. I’ve wondered if exes can be friends, pondered if exes should live together, and examined why sex is better with an ex. Now once again, I’m re-entering the ex-files to pose another all-important ex question: Should we ever even consider reuniting with one of ours?

There was a lot of that going on in the season finale of Girls (Marnie + Charlie, Hannah¬†+ Adam — again), but something (experience, hard earned?) tells me happily ever after isn’t part of the plan for either couple. A few lucky examples aside, it rarely is for exes on TV. And even Carrie and Big and Miranda and Steve had to break up and reunite a series of times on Sex and the City before they finally got it together and got to the altar.

While the process of coupling and uncoupling and coupling again (repeat one, two or three times) makes for great story on TV, in real life, you’re just likely to increase your battle scars. I recently watched a biography on Abraham Lincoln which revealed a few things I’d never known before. First, he despised his tyrannical, physically abusive father and refused to see him on his deathbed. (Who would have thought Lincoln could be so vengeful and hold such a powerful grudge?) Second, when U.S. President-to-be Lincoln and future First Lady Mary Todd were first dating, they got engaged, and when he got the proverbial cold feet, broke up. They spent 18 months apart before reuniting and finally marrying.

For those who didn’t glimpse those tense scenes from a marriage in Lincoln, by many historical accounts, the state of their union was often fairly miserable. It was one dead son, a Civil War and an assassination short of happily ever after. And that doesn’t even take into account what was going in the marriage, which, according to the documentary, may have been filled with spousal abuse inflicted upon Lincoln by his wife. This is the Lincoln story I want to see on screen! (Maybe Joaquin Phoenix can play him as a younger guy and get his Oscar.)

In contrast to the turbulent Lincoln marriage, future 26th President Theodore Roosevelt’s decision to marry his ex, Edith Carrow, after the death of his first wife, yielded far more blissful domestic results — or so claimed another Presidential documentary I recently watched.

My ex experiences are closer to that of the Lincolns — though without war, death and slapping. I recently reconnected with one, hoping that a year apart had changed us both enough that our relationship could evolve into something sturdier and more mature. Alas, it didn’t take me long to realize that it couldn’t, and I had to let him go once more. Unfortunately for us both, he hadn’t changed at all. In fact, he had become even more like he was before.

It was my second failed attempt at recapturing lost love. The previous time was nearly 10 years earlier, with an ex whom I had dated 10 years before that. On the surface, he had changed immensely. Formerly the life of every party, he’d morphed into a teetotaling zealot. While I applauded his health-consciousness, when it came right down to it, he’d traded one addiction (party favors) for another (self-righteous sobriety). Same guy, new drug. He had to go.

What did Luke Spencer say again? “People don’t change, they just get older.”

As much as I try to embrace the idea of moving forward, never looking back (after all, as yet another TV great, Vanessa Huxtable, once said, “The ship that sails backwards never sees the sun rise” — technically untrue, but I get her point), a part of me — the hopeless romantic — thinks the perfect love would actually be rediscovered love with an old flame. It’s a hyper-romantic dream, but trying to force it into reality can be like re-watching an old movie or re-reading an old book and expecting a different outcome at the end. If you’re lucky, you might enjoy the story even more the second time around, but the ending will still be the same.

Of course, if you resist the human urge to fall back into old patterns (which with both of my returnee exes, especially the second one, I did — new year, same relationship), together again, two exes can write a brand new story, one that might not be quite happily ever after but rather, to be continued. A perfect denouement might not be guaranteed, but the great scary thing about love and life outside of Bangkok massage parlors is that happy endings never are.


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Leaving New York

“You left
Your girlfriend on the platform
With this really ragged notion that you’ll return
But she knows
That when he goes
He really goes
And do you think you’ve made
The right decision this time?”
— from “London,” by the Smiths

Several years ago, I read an article by a writer who fell in love with a woman who left the United States to move to Buenos Aires. Although they’d only just begun dating, he decided to follow her, a bit in awe, but also slightly resentful. How could she just pick up and leave? “It takes a person who is remarkably independent, perhaps to an unhealthy degree, to leave everything they know and love behind to move to a place where they know no one and don’t speak the language.” I can’t remember any other details of his story, but I’ll never forget that one sentence.

I can’t say I understood how he was feeling. I’ve never followed anyone to the other side of the world, and I doubt that I ever will. But I knew exactly where she was coming from. I’d been there — young, restless and scarily independent. I also ended up in the same place. Six years ago, on September 15, 2006, I left New York City for Buenos Aires. The plan was to be gone six to 12 months. Six years later, I’m still gone.

The day before I left (six years ago today), I was walking down 13th Street for the last time, talking on the phone to my friend Rebecca. She had recently quit her job at All My Children, where she had played Greenlee for many years, to move to Los Angeles. Though she was still speaking the same language in L.A. as she had been in New York City, she could empathize with my fear and trepidation over leaving everything that was so familiar behind to dive head first into the unknown. What a leap of faith I was about to take!

Her parting words of wisdom: “Jeremy, sometimes when you take big chances, bad things happen. But if you don’t take any chances, nothing happens.” I was walking past New York Health & Racquet Club, my longtime gym, between Fifth Avenue and University Place, one street down from my apartment. I knew I had Rebecca’s approval.

I wasn’t moving for love or money. In fact, I was leaving behind loved ones, a great apartment, and what had been a fairly lucrative journalism career in New York City for a big question mark. I just knew that it was time for me to grow, and to do that, I had to fly, far far away. I had no idea where I would ultimately land. Six years later, I still don’t. I’ve loved and lost, enjoyed good times, cursed the bad. Through them all, I never even considered straying from my route less traveled, packing up, packing it in, and heading back home.

“The ship that sails backwards never sees the sunrise.”

Words of wisdom from Vanessa Huxtable on The Cosby Show. If I’d hit reverse after hitting that first bit of turbulence (me, three men and a screwdriver, on the floor of my bathroom), imagine all that wouldn’t have been. Perhaps I never would have made it to Australia four and a half years later, or Bangkok. This blog, inspired by my expatriate experience, certainly never would have come into being.

And I would have missed one of my most memorable moments of all. It was on Christmas Day, a couple of years into my time in BA, and I had just finished my morning run around the parks and lakes of Palermo. As I wandered the streets looking for breakfast (as in Bangkok, an omelette was never easy to come by in BA; instead of dinner meats and fried rice first thing in the morning, it was all about facturas — good morning, sweets!), an elderly woman stopped me.

“Merry Christmas,” she said in English. She then proceeded to give me a big hug, obviously unbothered by the sweat dripping off my body. I was moved by her kind, unexpected gesture, and I never forgot it. Sometimes it’s those random throwaway moments, the small incidents in between the grand adventures, that make the greatest impact, convince you that you’re right where you should be. I hope there are more to come. I could use another one today.

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