Relationships are like the humans that have them: dying as soon as they are born.
If you're lucky, your death and the relationship’s death will coincide.
Most of the time, sadly, the relationship dies prematurely…often way prematurely…and the humans choose to live with a melancholy ghost in their house.
Sometimes a relationship dies a spectacularly fiery death. Like something from a Hollywood disaster movie.
Lots of drama, a little humor, lots of collateral damage, a little false morality, lots of people watching.
One element, however, is lacking from this disaster movie. There is no redemption.
But the most farcically tragic relationship death comes with an affair.
Most affairs end in a metaphorical suicide, along with the above-mentioned dramatic death. A twofer. I have watched it. I have felt it.
At some point in the affair, one or both participants become nihilists. Not caring about anyone. Including the other “affairer.”
The relationship…the insanely damned liaison…is all that matters. Soon the suicidal process begins.
The risky behavior, the flaunting, then the impending doom. Your own personal car wreck, directed by Michael Mann.
You get to both watch and participate. In slow motion. In exquisitely painful detail.
It is never pretty. It is never worth it. Yet, it never really seems optional. Kind of like death.