it is so so so so difficult to take the spigot of emotion and turn it off. in fact, the more i think about it, the whole idea of "turning off" feelings is such a terrible metaphor. i stopped using it.
i see it more like this, perhaps it's tempered by those "love is a room" images from "Everything Is Illuminated." it may seem hokey to you, but i've always thought it: two people in a relationship build something together: something complex, something unique, something structured. it's not any definite object we see in life, like a house or an igloo or a bench or a car, but those are close in aspects. during a relationship this thing is fleshed out, it goes through upkeep, overhaul, upgrades, rebuilds; over time, it really takes on a form, it's almost tangible. it has colors. it has shape, it has a speed or pace. and it is reflective of its builders.
then one day, the two creators have to go separate ways, and just leave the structure derelict, sitting in its place. at first breaking up is like staring at a big red barn and pretending it's not there, it feels insane. soon it's like driving past the place you used to live, a momentary lapse into sadness over something too familiar, but newly alien. over time it wears away to nothing. but even when the structure is far gone, just a patch of try grass in an abandoned field, and even you've built something else up in another place, it's still an object you think about. in the end, in a bit of irony, it turns out this *thing* built facets of you, and tore down other aspects of your self... and the thing itself is gone...
and on that note... monogamy is one of the things that will be gone in 35 years... at least according to one writer:
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/story/cms.php?story_id=3158
