"Maybe you’re right, I say. Ultimately, it won’t last. Relationships end, affairs fall apart. But it doesn’t mean that one shouldn’t have them. It doesn’t mean that one shouldn’t fall crazily in love and live.
Passionate love affairs die hard. They convulse and writhe and agonize till the bitter end. But the bliss and the headiness of love is worth the agony of the breakup. Death always comes at the end of life.
What you did, I might have done it too. The details, the sequences, might have been different. I might have been less cruel, more decisive, but sooner or later it would have ended.”
This is a passage from the most moving, portentous, and beautiful book I have ever read. God, there are so many amazing passages, I want to transcribe the entire thing here. It’s called Breakup: The End of a Love Story and it is about… the end of a love story.
I am admittedly bias because I find stories about breakups, breakdowns and the breakdown of breakups inherently fascinating because of their voyeuristic nature, but this book is arresting and it will rip you apart.
It’s Texier’s memoir and is specifically about a marriage disintegrating slowly because of an affair, but anyone who has been in and fallen out of love with someone will relate to the unbearable, stinging pain that comes with being able to see and feel your relationship falling apart, but being completely helpless.
Her profoundly candid descriptions of watching her husband - someone who was so hers - become someone else’s are devastating, and the intricacies of her alternating relatable, crippling weakness and admirable, redeeming strength make her a compelling and multifaceted character and not a simply a bystander in her husband’s indiscretions.
(And, bonus: parts are a lil literary porny…)