The Ballad of XX and XY

Over the past week I’ve encountered a new and unexpected turn in the ebb and flow of finding stable ground. As many of you know, living in New York places you on a precarious edge of either going off the deep end, or trying to surround yourself with others who perpetuate normalcy in your own life. For me, XX and XY were two of these individuals that just happened to be married one another. For over 10 years XX has been one of my best friends. And dealing with an unstable family of my own, it was so nice to have a sense of what the word family actually meant. XX and I lived together for several years in college until we split off on our own to explore the world at a larger scale. And in that short amount of time, XX gave me the first-hand experience of knowing what it must be like to have a sibling. She was my sister.

Then one day XX met XY. Before I met XY I was a little worried. Once people get married it’s no longer a solo show; they come as a unit. And sometimes their “better half” turns out to be more of a dud than a welcomed addition, an accessory, if you will, that you have to put up with until the honeymoon phase is over and your friend is willing to hang out solo again. But in this case XY was lovely. So funny, so kind, so welcoming, and so demonstratively in love with my XX that I couldn’t wait until the unit was official. I wasn’t losing a sister; I was gaining XY.

All of this time, 5.5 years to be exact, I found XX and XY to be so in love, so thoughtful of each other, supportive of one another, a role model for what I would one day want in my own marriage. It was only two weeks ago that I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as they sat at a dinner party, hands embraced, kisses being placed on cheeks, apparently still so aware and acknowledging of each other’s presence. I was in awe, and at that moment XX and XY once again affirmed my sense of stability in the world on a grander scale.

Then, out of the blue, XX calls me to deliver the news. It’s over, she’s leaving XY, she’s moving away, it’s ending, and my heart sank into a place that I’ve yet to find. I’m still trying to retrieve it from the hallows of my chest.

The question is what do you do when married couples that you know and love and somewhat depend on in one form or another, stop loving each other? I’ve found myself in such a predicament and have to admit, I’m having a sincerely hard time coping. Is it normal to feel this devastated? Is it right to think that XX and XY are making a mistake and wanting to tell them so? Is it selfish to feel such things? Is it possible to let them go? At this time I’m just at a loss for answers.

XX and XY, I love you both. I wonder if either of you know how much you mean to me?