A painful relationship break: that’s what journalist Jeroen writes about in his column this week. He and his K. are no more. Yet there is a bright side to that sad end, because Jeroen now knows better than ever where things go wrong in his relationships. He shares his view on love breakups. “It’s she who made me realize that I don’t love my own body. And de facto not very much of myself tout court.”
“Everything of value is defenseless.” I think that’s a wonderful phrase. A true sentence. It is not mine, unfortunately, but Lucebert’s, a Dutch poet and artist who, together with Hugo Claus, Karel Appel and Corneille, among others, gave color to the Cobra movement in the middle of the last century.
Everything of value is defenseless. Defenseless, like K. and me, now. We have shed our cloaks of lovers and molted into exes. We are still very valuable to each other, not of that. But also helpless. To have became had, existence became existed, being became were. That is to say, there are things we were – lovers, wrestlers, wordsmiths, heat spinners – but also things we still are. To be better. Close, for example. Without judgement, most definitely. Word jugglers.
And you can still smile. Look at each other. Say: we stay clean. Otherwise clean, but nevertheless: clean through and through.
Jeroen
Gentle, more than ever. Full of love, too. Staying keeps staying. That’s clean. I’m scared, yes. Of how much I still have in the way. In head and heart and – there was the real surprise – even skin. It’s strange how you cover acres of memory. How a small touch opens entire archives of memories. Or how much the limited presence of physical contact in your childhood determines what you reap today: discomfort about and alienation from your own body, for example.
It’s K. who made me realize that I don’t love my own body too much. And de facto not very much of myself tout court. I, who see myself primarily as an emotional romantic, actually live mainly in my head.
You might think that realization saddens me. Well, it does, how could it be otherwise? But at the same time I experience it as a very powerful pivotal moment. I’m happier with a painful insight that I can deal with than with a blind spot that keeps everything as it was.
Knowing is better than not knowing. Knowing is what makes you pupate and grow. What makes you sprout again. It’s like the seasons. A person is all of them: now autumn, then winter, but also always spring and summer. And it is in their contrasts that you learn to value them.
The wetness and the shivering, the soft spring sun and the burning heat of a heat wave in August, I love it all. Everything of value remains defenseless. Love itself is defenseless. She’s going to run off with you. Let yourself roll and trip and bounce back. Sometimes you lie down. On your back in tender grass, your gaze fixed on a crystal clear sky, your eyes at the same time a collection of dancing spots. And you can still smile. Look at each other. Say: we stay clean. Otherwise clean, but nevertheless: clean through and through. Like a drop kick. Like K. and me.
Copywriter, spokesperson, journalist, ghost-writer, poet… The CV of Jeroen Vermeiren (48) is a colorful collection of crafts. As the single dad of Cas (13), he likes to release a contradictory balloon about relationships and parenting.
Read also:
COLUMN. Journalist Jeroen about his biggest coup de foudre and shortest romance ever. “I was way too in love”
COLUMN. Jeroen does not think everyone is suitable for parenthood. Buying children? Skill not required”
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