Down To One...Again

‘Tis sad, but true kids. I heard the news on the radio this morning and confirmed the rumors via a quick Google search once I got to the office. Melissa Etheridge and Tammy Lynn Michaels are, indeed, splits-ville after a nine-year run.

Now you might expect me to get snarky here or try to find the humor in the situation, but even I – the person who jeered Etheridge and then-partner Julie Cypher mercilessly for their selection of David Crosby as sperm donor in an early issue of GAY e-magazine – cannot find, or at least bring myself to look for, the levity in this event. The news has actually rendered me a bit melancholy.

It’s not that I live and die according to the happenings in celebrity lives. I’m not all that emotionally wrapped up in their doings, nor do I have some distorted expectation in regard to their ability to carry off a relationship with any greater degree of success than the rest of us. Rather, it’s the parallels with my own life and semi-recent relationship demise that have struck a chord today.

While not as extensive as the historical correlations drawn between Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy, there are a few comparable circumstances between the Etheridge/Michaels relationship and my own most recent union:

• Etheridge and I are the same age. It’s a minor coincidence, but a similarity nonetheless. And when you think of yourself as a decent, kind, semi-intelligent, and all-around fun person to be around, it does give one pause as you approach the half-century mark and find yourself un-partnered. While it’s almost instinctive to point the finger at the other party when a relationship initially crumbles, there are two sides to every break-up and if you’re the least bit emotionally mature, you eventually have to pause and ask yourself, “What the heck am I doin’ wrong here?”
• Etheridge and my ex are both cancer survivors. Thankfully, both prevailed in the battle, but I can’t help but think about the bond that is formed when you go through that type of challenge with someone – or the crevasse that’s created when the afflicted partner shuts you out of the process. I know how my story played out and can’t help but wonder whether Etheridge’s struggle intensified their connection or deteriorated it.
• Etheridge and Michaels were together nine years, the same duration as my relationship with the woman I thought was the love of my life. Our nine years had stops and starts, movings in and movings out, and more than their share of dysfunction, but even so it was nine years. And when you spend that long with someone, an entire decade of memories are created. Some loom larger than others – historical events, vacations, holidays, birthdays, and kids’ graduations, for instance. Others are more insignificant reminders – Nordstrom’s department store and picking Maryland crabs will forever be linked in my memory with my ex. And, of course, for someone whose entire life has a soundtrack, there’s nary a song from the last decade that doesn’t in some way remind me of her. I know how I deal with the memories and my heart goes out to Etheridge and Michaels just a wee bit as they enter the stage where reminiscing becomes bittersweet.

So, no, you won’t find me scolding or mocking Etheridge and Michaels here today. It’s just plain sad, to be honest. The only upside I see in this (and I beg Melissa’s forgiveness for my selfishness here) is that “Skin”, the creation resulting from her break-up with Cypher, is my favorite of her CD’s. Perhaps something good will come of all of this after all.

Candy Parker