“Purple rain…I never thought it would end with Purple Rain.”
Shaking her head in confusion, my friend looked back at me from across the table. She had just explained the tale of her most recent romantic “thing,” which, up to this point, had always seemed to be serious — at least in terms of the characteristically vague and ambiguous young adult relationship.
She looked at her phone again, re-reading a text conversation, which promptly ended when she sent a picture of Prince’s cover art for his 1984 song, “Purple Rain.” She had confirmation that the guy had read the text shortly thereafter — thank you, read receipts.
She was confused — and understandably disappointed — by the fact this almost-relationship fizzled after something so arbitrary. Weeks later, there were no new developments. He had never responded and never reached out again, after four months of legitimate dates and quality time with my friend.
“I just don’t know what happened,” she kept telling me any time the conversation came up. “I wish I had some closure.”
Since I arrived at the University, I’ve heard this phrase multiple times. Friends and strangers alike seem to always have an endless supply of stories about romantic “things” that “just ended” for “no reason.” I’ve heard countless stories of somethings that one day were all cloudless, sunny skies, and were downpouring with unexpected bouts of (purple) rain the next.
After her “Purple Rain” picture was ignored, my friend didn’t do too much. She very well could have reached out again, but the fact that she didn’t highlights the heart of the problem — we’re afraid to communicate with each other.
On one side, whoever’s ending things is too nervous to explain to the other what’s happening, to say a few hard-hitting words and finalize an end. On the other, the confused party is often too nervous to ask for a simple answer.
I’m no expert at this myself — rather than suffer through any awkwardness, I’ve become a seasoned pro at shrugging off rejection as “typical” and semi-jokingly compare myself to the unlucky-in-love Liz Lemon. I don’t reach out, I don’t ask questions, I don’t try again — instead, I just let it go.
But sometimes I wonder if this really is the best route. Why aren’t people honest with each other? Why are we so scared to say what’s true when communicating with each other?
If you’re through with a person, I think it’s important to let him or her know. No need to be brutally honest and outline every flaw — let’s show some humanity, here — but tell them it’s over. Don’t let it end mysteriously with a picture of “Purple Rain.” Be upfront and offer the closure you would want were you on the other side of things.
Especially on a college campus, few people are stranger to the 21st century “hook-up culture.” I’m all for liberation, but it certainly looks like this potentially hedonistic, no-strings-attached era of one night stands has us viewing each other solely as a means to fuel our allegedly romantic fantasies.
We “talk” to each other, but only through text; “date” each other, but shirk off the idea of dinner together; “care” about each other, but don’t bother to end things cleanly.
Seems to me that when we compromise the quality of our communication with others, we sacrifice having meaningful relationships and fail to view people as people.
Mary’s column runs biweekly Thursdays. She can be reached at m.long@cavalierdaily.com.
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