Into the Great Wide Open

Finding space for my everything.

One year ago, I was leaving for a lengthy summer trip to visit elders in Newfoundland and the UK, and then meet up with friends for a long-anticipated two-week vacation in Portugal. My then-boyfriend offered to drive me to LAX. When he came to pick me up, he gave me a card. It was, uncharacteristically for him, a love note, addressed to me: Mary Jane - a badass smart hot funny woman with infinite power. Inside, he wrote, “Hi girlfriend. I love you so much. Have an amazing trip (where even the tough stuff slides easy). You rock so much. I will miss you so much. Love, [this guy].” It made me feel wonderful, and I told him so.

Over the next few weeks, we exchanged DMs, texts, pics (mostly of the “this is me waking up thinking of you” pillow-selfie type that’s only charming when you’re in looove), and voice notes. He left me a particularly sweet one at the end of June, saying I want my voice to be the first thing you hear when you wake up. It was the best! On July 7th, we finally caught up via FaceTime when I was in Madeira. I was so happy to see his face; I told him all about the dolphins we’d seen on a boat tour that day, how the local feral cats had received a fat-and-gristle payday when I’d grilled steaks poolside, about the beautiful cows who were grazing in the neighbors’ steep gardens. I told him that someday I’d bring him to Madeira, and that I couldn’t wait to get home to him; and he said, “I want to talk to you about that.” I experienced the physical sensation of my heart dropping into my stomach as I pushed myself up from a ‘being cute on the couch’ pose into a ‘holy fuck, uh-oh’ upright position.

I quickly let him know that I wasn’t in a private space —  I was in the living room of our Airbnb, the only place with Wi-Fi — but he forged ahead, even as one of my friends walked past and waved a friendly hello in the background of our video. He’d uncorked something that he was determined to tell me, no matter what: our relationship was over. I don’t feel a connection with you any more, he said. I asked him what the fuck he was talking about. He repeated: I just don’t feel our connection. I asked him if he was sure that he knew what he was doing. He insisted he was. And that, friends, is the abbreviated version of me getting dumped via FaceTime by my longtime boyfriend when I was on vacation in Portugal last summer.

If you’ve read some of my personal essays, you know that that conversation was the beginning of a months-long, agonizing, stupid breakup which got extra messy when a bunch of fuckery came to light. This guy, who I’d been with for years, broke up with me by telling me he couldn’t be in a relationship with anyone because he wanted to focus on his career. But he was already in a new relationship with someone... and he'd been denying that he was with me for years. One gal told me that, when she asked him if we were together, he said I was ‘obsessed with him’, and that we were just friends and creative partners. I mean, sure, I was obsessed with a guy who I thought I was in a big ol’ relationship with. I assumed that, because we’d spent significant holidays and life-and-death events with each others’ families, and because he’d driven me to the airport with a love letter, etc., that our feelings for one another were mutual. When you choose to speak at the memorial for your lover’s deceased sibling, that means something, you know?

Having your heart broken sucks. Having your heart broken by someone you trusted is hell. Having your heart broken, and discovering that the person you trusted is denying that they ever loved you, or were in a relationship with you, is really fucking whack. It’s a funny-not-funny kind of situation. Which brings me to the good stuff — sorry it took me this long to get here! I’m still processing many things, including the silver lining that this bananas situation has revealed.

at the Utah Salt Wash with Archie

I’ve always loved traveling, and being on my own; I left home at 16, and I’ve never looked back (or forward, to the consternation of many folks). The freedom and adventure of the quintessential American road trip has always appealed to my romantic nature. I’m most comfortable as a nomad – and so, the silver lining of being on my own after a bad breakup is that I’m on a big fat road trip for the entire summer, crisscrossing the country to reconnect with friends, family, and my wild solo self.

Last night, I camped in Zion National Park. I pulled into our campsite at sunset, and Archie and I ate our dinner as the last of the day’s sunlight turned everything purple and red, and the stars came out. I got a campfire going, and poured myself a glass of wine. Archie bunked down for the night with a doggy grunt after he’d ascertained that the coyotes he could hear weren’t close enough to worry about. I settled into the glow near the fire, and turned on my headlamp to finish reading Jena Friedman’s Not Funny (which was, funnily enough, a gift from my now ex, who told me I was not funny. Thanks to Friedman’s musings, I now get that he’s pretty bummed about how funny I am, or, at least, how not funny he is worried about being).

Reading Friedman’s wonderfully feminist book felt so right under those stars, especially because there’s no indoor or technological space that can contain all of the grief and rage that so many of us feel right now. The great outdoors is the only place to take it to. My father found space for all of his unspoken sadnesses in the wilderness. My sister did the same. It’s where I continually find my love for them, as I did in Zion last night. Those are the places that I will keep seeking out this summer, to try and find space for… everything.

Also! I’ll be calling in from the road for a new audio series with the delightful Michelle Davis of

Stir the Pot

for an epic summer adventure with hot gossip and hotter takes. On the High Road is launching June 11. Each episode will dive into what a single gal needs to know about weed culture, reproductive rights, culinary curiosities, and the political landscape in today’s America.

I love you, and am so grateful for you all. More to come soon from the road. - MJ ❤️