R Last week there were rumors that the alternative pin-up couple Phoebe Bridgers and Paul Mescal had separated. The pairing of singer and actor over two and a half years was the stuff of internet legend: He was the sensitive Adonis with a starring role in the TV adaptation of Sally Rooney's Normal People. She was the sad indie singer who, it turned out, was one of Mescal's favorite musicians. They met via Zoom, in a public interview, as the pandemic raged. Soon they were together and seemed destined to live happily ever after, until suddenly chatty reports suggested it was all over.
In my circle of friends, this story felt like a fitting climax to a year marked by the end of long-standing relationships. "Wow, the season finale of the breakup season," one tweeted in response to the maybe-news. It doesn't really matter if these two celebs, completely separate from my social milieu, are no longer together – we saw what we wanted to see: 2022, the year of big breakups, may have claimed even more scalps.
The other day at the pub, my friend Stan and I started counting the long-term couples (which we defined as relationships of two years or more) in our immediate circles of friends who had broken up during the year. Including ourselves, there were 12. That, Stan said, seemed like a lot. Later, I told others about the exercise, who shared more anecdotes about the recent dissolution of long-term partnerships. Suddenly it felt like everyone was dissolving around us.
Of these relationships, the majority were heterosexual, but a significant number were queer. The ages of those involved ranged from late 20s to nearly 40. None seemed to have ended for any dramatic or bitter reason. These were "consensual" breakups – sure, there may have been hurt feelings and recriminations, but no one committed a major violation that would have ended the relationship prematurely. These longtime couples simply decided they had run their course in 2022.
I am under no illusion that our informal data collection would stand up to scientific scrutiny. It's also not likely to apply beyond our social spheres, which are heavily weighted toward middle-class Millennials living in cities. For others, I'm sure 2022 will be remembered as the year when it seemed like everyone was getting engaged or forming polycules on a Caribbean island. For my friends, however, the rate of major breakups became a running joke. "The curse got me," one victim wryly wrote me after they ended their five-year relationship.
Such a phenomenon naturally led to theories about its cause. Perhaps it was simply age: it's been suggested that the 27-30 range is a key stage in serious relationships; you either get out or dive into a mortgage. That lasted for some of us, but it still didn't feel like the whole story.
"The omnipresence of titles like the 1999 book All About Love by Bell Hooks in social media feeds this year suggests that something is afoot." Photo by Karjean Levine/Getty Images
The pandemic, of course, was cited again and again, with different interpretations: Was it the psychological pressure of living under two years of Covid 19 restrictions that eventually drove couples apart? Or maybe the problems encountered during the lockdown were initially written off, but if the problems continued into 2022, splits then occurred?
As I talked to some of the new singles – and examined my own feelings – I sensed a dramatic shift in perspective. Perhaps a cliche, but the lockdown, the magnitude of losses, and the long aftermath of Covid-19 have problems left us with a more urgent understanding of how fleeting life really is. Wants and needs came into focus. Priorities changed – including the importance placed on long-term romantic love.
Over the past two decades, there has been an abundance of academic work and discussion in popular media that attempts to dismantle the cultural reverence of romantic love. Such thinking argues that we can give equal importance to alternative forms of love, whether platonic or familial. The omnipresence on social media this year of titles like Bell Hooks' 1999 book All About Love suggests something is afoot. In the meantime, a focus on community dominated the Lockdown years. Is it any wonder that the message that romantic love is not a cure-all actually has a practical application?
I can't speak for my former partner, but I objectively believe we have a lot of mileage left in our relationship. There were cracks, yes, but at other times they may have been surmountable. In the grand scheme of things, we were happy enough – but in 2022, that itself became a fault line for us.
As the months passed, the feeling gnawed at me that this "happy enough" relationship was actually shortchanging us. So much of our existence as young people feels decided by forces beyond our control, from pandemics to the housing market to government slashing of public services. Certainly in this rare space where my partner and I had basic freedom of choice, we had more to ask for than just being "happy enough" for a while longer, and individually considering what would make us feel alive right now? Could romantic love alone carry the weight of these ambitions?
No, it was completed. Dreams that had previously been compromised or permanently put on hold in favor of maintaining a serious relationship could no longer be postponed. With tenderness we let go of each other. I had so far said goodbye to the great romantic love of my life, a man who looked like a movie star and read Angela Davis. He was everything I was told would complete me. In theory, I knew that wasn't true, but to realize it materially was truly emancipating.
When discussing long-term breakups on social media recently, one respondent suggested a number of negative reasons – including the possibility of Covid-19-induced "neurological damage" that could have driven relationships apart. Some interpreted these separations as love's departure from our lives, while I saw them as a rejection of the idea that romantic love alone is enough to fulfill us when a host of other desires remain unfulfilled.
Who's to say if I'm right? All I know is that I have never loved or dreamed bigger since I was separated. This is not a reflection on my relationship, but the freedom that comes when you break open your horizons. Here's to 2022, a year of great divisions. Losing love has never felt so liberating.