Posted by red on November 15th, 2009 in Loves Nuances

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the concept of expiration dates.

As I’ve thought about it more and more, I’ve started to realize that in my life there have been many, many relationships that naturally came with an expiration date. A friendship from a work place I am destined to leave. A floormate from residence. I girl I once dated who I always knew was moving away shortly.

All set to expire from the get go.

Did I set those dates? Did they? Did I orchestrate the demise of the relationship before it even really began? Did we both? Was it inevitable or was it something that came to be because it was directed that way?

I am leaving my fair city soon – the place I’ve called home for 23 years now – and a funny thing is happening. People are coming out of the woodwork, wanting to get together for one last coffee, one last drink – one last hurrah.

Am I set to expire from a number of these people’s lives?

I wonder.

Minerva asked me, a few months back, what would happen between her and I when I moved. It was a sparkle of honesty and fresh air (she does that to me – I would have just merrily avoided the topic). As I answered her I realized a lot of things. That indeed, I was moving and indeed, so many casual, fleeting relationships I have here are going to just plain die. I’m suddenly more aware of the relationships I have in my life that are set to expire. Friends. Coworkers. Playmates. I am not a Christmas card giver, and I am terrible at keeping in touch. The expiration is inevitable.

But the really interesting thing about all of this is that lately, in my embracing of my polyness, I feel like I’ve started to forge relationships that don’t really fit this trend. Lovers that I don’t honestly know if I’ll keep up with or if I’ll just let them drift away. Partners that didn’t come with an expiration date. Am I just blinded to the truth, or is there something more to this?

The thing I’m realizing right now is that those I feel love for don’t feel like they come with an expiration date. And this is confusing for me, because it makes me wonder if realizing a relationship doesn’t have an expiration date means I’ve fallen in love, or if I fall in love and the the expiration date I’ve unconsciously assigned dissolves away into nothing.

Which then brings me back to the concept of breakups. I’ve only had a few, but when I look to extend my definition of breakup into the friendship realm, I find I’ve had a few more. And in all instances, interestingly, they’ve happened because I’d come to realize that the expiration date had passed. Like, had really passed. And unfortunately, I don’t think this fact was obvious till it had passed – hindsight is so clear, after all. I think my wiring makes this a necessity – and it somewhat bothers the control freak in me. I like things to be neat and tidy. I like knowing when an endpoint is approaching. And yet it seems that this dastardly emotion of love forces me to let that go. It’s worth it, of course. But that doesn’t mean its not slightly disconcerting.

When I look back on my life, the friendships that I’ve maintained despite years and continents between us are with people I am happy to admit that I truly love. And it is a friendship that I believe has recently expired (which is super sad, but is seems incredibly clear to me) that has made me start to think about all of this. And of course, there’s my Roi, whom I love so deeply I can feel it pumping with each heartbeat…well I clearly see no expiration date with him, because I married the man. My relationship with him seems to transcend most of my overthinking, anyways.

So I need not be scared by this – and I’m not. In fact, I take some comfort in having relationships I see surviving my move away, just as much as I take comfort in the fact that many, many connections will be severed by the approaching expiration date I have set in my mind. The time for a fresh start is fast approaching, but I’m going to take what truly matters to me along for the ride. I feel pretty lucky to understand that about myself – even if it’s slightly confusing to me and doesn’t fit into a neat and tidy little box.