The two longest relationships I’ve ever been in, both bordering on the two-year mark, were meaningless. I learned a great deal from them, making them great experiences, but in all truth, that can be said about any of the relationships I’ve had.

My shortest relationship, which never even got into the three month range (and also happened to be with the only girl to break up with me), was the most meaningful.

And toxic.

I shouldn’t have been in that relationship, and I knew it. It was unhealthy, it was destructive, it was painful. Yet I kept going. I kept apologizing instead of accusing, I kept storming without releasing. Was I weak? Perhaps. Was I in love? More likely.

But I was scared most of all.

Scared of giving up a chance for happiness, scared of forever wondering, “what if?”. With lack of choice comes freedom from regret. It took more strength to push on, knowing that it wouldn’t last, than it would have taken to end it myself.

It wasn’t weakness. It was determination. It was an attempt at perseverance. It was an attempt at stoic resignation. I knew she was going to end it.

Because I never would.

I had the chance to hang out with Sonas on Wednesday night. He brought over some wine and cigars just as a chance to relax. He graduated last month and is looking for a job before he looks for a law school. The thing is, he’s not tied down by anything at all. His girlfriend is in Seattle, finished her studies and working as a pharmacist, but he has no plans on moving there. He’s perfectly fine with moving back home, out west, or even overseas to find a job. I have to admire that kind of freedom, especially since he’s in a relationship. There’s a trust there that really goes beyond most of the other relationships that I know. We ended up ordering in and hanging out on the balcony. I can’t relate to him very well because I don’t know much about him, but I can definitely say that he’s an easy person for me to talk to, which is a rarity in itself.

Yesterday I had the chance to hang out with Pat, and just kick back with some Soul Calibur II. We were pretty evenly matched, although I had the upper hand because I actually own the game and have a steady character. We’d really learn each others moves, so it ended up being a game of reflexes and feints, instead of button mashing like it is against most people. He’s the only person I know who used to be a hardcore gamer the way I used to be, so it was great to be able to talk about fighter styles and relate on that level.

It’s always funny when someone tries to play a mind game on me. For some reason they never work, so I really don’t mind them.

The secret, often confused with apathy, is actually the willingness to sacrifice everything, or the acceptance of such. Unless one is prepared to give up everything, there are no guarantees about what will happen. When one accepts the fact that they may lose a relationship, then one has nothing to lose.

It’s this power, this weight, that guarantees a victory. Bluffing such a thing is unpredictable and generally not recommended. Of course, knowing the opponent inside and out is an advantage. It’s like seeing his or her hand in a card game, and sometimes, this is enough to win if one is unable to pay a high a price as a relationship.

Such a strategy may leave one with few friends, but who’s a friend who plays mind games?

When people ask me what my favourite novel is, I tell them, “A Hero of Our Time”, and that’s been true for more than eight years now. It’s a prime example of Russian Romantic Literature, and I can appreciate that. It’s brilliant, not only in it’s lyrical style but also for the complexity of the mindset captured by the protagonist, which makes it such a pleasure to read through. It’s intelligent, it’s interesting, it’s creative, yet none of these things make it my favourite. It’s not even the book I’ve enjoyed reading the most.

It’s simply been the most influential.

Lermontov’s novel once offered me guidance (albeit blindly) when I needed it the most. His words have shaped me more than anything else I can think of, even though I’ve cast off most of my former self related to this. I still see his work as being an integral part of my development, in making me who I am at every changing moment, and that is why I hold so much importance in it.

All of it was a matter of timing. Otherwise, I’d probably think that it was just another boring book I was forced to read in grade 10 English.

The same goes with my relationships, something I would never have thought was related to timing. It’s funny to think that my most significant relationship was also my shortest by far, with a person who is most likely to think nothing of it at all. And everything that made it important to me was a combination of a very specific mindset I had at the time and the fact that this person was such a change from my previous girlfriend.

The same goes with my favourite movie and my favourite band. I’ve become a person who holds more significance in the things that change me than the things that please me.

And change is a product of time.

There are times when a commitment is made on good terms and the bond of such a commitment can be easily honoured. However, there are cases when these terms become subject to strains that may threaten the relationship on which the commitment is based. When these strains overwhelm, the bond is broken.

The commitment, entangled with the relationship, should be broken as well.

However, this bond sometimes does not end. In such cases, the commitment cannot be said to be honoured; rather, it exists out of pity. Such a motive is rarely something to be desired. It is best to end such an engagement instead of falsely keeping it alive, for commitments, much like relationships, are partially based on the self-interests of those involved. When they are not, one person assumes the role of a liar.

And the other is being lied to.