breaking up has got me down.

Iraq was so busy this time three years ago I couldn’t see straight. Things are different now. They’re better – much, much better – and so unlike anything we expected back then. Work comes less frequently, and when it does, now with an integrated Iraqi presence. Security has improved, and not superficially so. Iraq’s native sons now shoulder much of the load. They patrol, and investigate and actively hunt Al Qaedists. There’s a palpable optimism in the streets of the villages we observe – optimism absent in these same souls only a few years ago. It’s remarkable. How come I don’t feel remarkable?

Iraq is breaking up with me – and breaking up has got me down.

The Status of Forces Agreement has codified the split. Three years ago it seemed as though Iraq couldn’t go on without me. Now she’s in charge (by virtue of plebiscite, self-determination, and the fact that lots of military lawyers told me so) and things will never be the same. What’ll I do without an Iraq to visit every 7 to 10 months? What will she do without 120,000 me’s? I know, she’ll be fine and really I’m very proud of her. But that doesn’t take away the hurt. She’s moving on, and damn if she doesn’t look good as she walks away.

While this isn't the bad, self-loathing, listen to the same Damien Rice song on repeat while reading her old emails, stuffing my face with high fructose corn syrups and saturated fats, wondering “what happened?” kind of break-up, it’s a break-up nonetheless. And breaking up really sucks.

Breaking-up is best understood in Calvin and Hobbes terms: short, long and longest. In the short term, a good break-up is best categorized by how civil the two can be towards each other. In the long term, a good break-up is best categorized by how little (or how much) regret survives (regret as either a question of “was it best he leave?” or “should I have even dated him at all?”). And in the longest term, a good break-up is best categorized by what you learned from your partner while you were together.

I met with a Kurdish Major a few weeks ago. We talked and drank chai. He had a pencil-thin mustache pasted to his upper lip with hair gel. He warned that if my platoon wanted to go here or there, he’d come and assume command. To which I told him that we’d be going neither here nor there. To which he told me that was fine because no matter the case he and his men detested Arabs and took care of them in short order. My Marines were surprised by the Kurd’s intensity. My Arab linguist was surprised that when the Kurd said "short order" he looked right at him. And the Kurd, I think, was surprised I kept staring at his mustache. It was a short term consequence of the break-up. All very civil.

The long term question of regret remains to be seen. It’s been a rough affair form the start. We entered the relationship with bad intel and without the benefit of all the facts (story of my life), got in over our heads (who doesn’t), things got a little out of control (who said love is easy) and got bad before they got better (they always do). And then, after some big fights (Fallujah, Najaf), and some self-improvement (The Awakening, The Sons of Iraq, The Surge, SOCOM raids, and a Chuck Norris USO tour) things got better. Al Qaeda infiltrated and were killed by the thousands. Iraqi nationalism defeated Islamic radicalism. Free elections occurred, oil revenues poured in, and schools were built. Commerce spread. Security forces grew, trained and succeeded in the field. And a brave, young democratic Iraq stood up to no applause in a region of kleptocracies.

Still, what of Baghdad’s corruption? What of Tehran’s short-game? And Washington’s hand? Good questions all. The long term question of whether Iraq will regret breaking up with us remains to be seen. The question of whether Iraq will regret having dated us at all is, in light of a sans-Saddam landscape alone, decidedly unlikely. Still, when it comes to long term success or long term regret in both love and war, my absolute law of be-lief holds: be yourself, be aggressive, be careful.

Then there’s the longest term – those lessons we learn along the way. Those things we’re supposed to recall, reflect on, and revise. What could we do better next time? Or not at all? What have our leaders learned of the projection of power? Or it’s delicate balance? Our citizens of war’s scope? Our soldiers of its cost? The longest term is relevant if and only if these very difficult questions are asked, answered, and remembered. These become the hard learned take-aways, the essential waypoints for a dynamic Republic.

Personally I’ve learned much from Iraq. I’ve learned that war is not company softball – not everybody gets to play just because they’re on the team. I’ve learned that the Marine Corps preserves democracy, it does not practice it. I’ve learned football analogies explain most everything and all care packages will almost always contain bubble gum, hand sanitizer, and old magazines. I’ve learned to take your job seriously, not yourself. I’ve learned Copenhagen is best kept in your sleeve, tin to skin and someone who calls you “big guy”, “champ”, “chief” or “boss” is almost always a jerk-off. I’ve learned more I’m sure, but I can’t remember them now.

I do remember a break-up’s bad feeling gets better. Short term anxiety turns to long term understanding, long term understanding to longest term wisdom. At least it supposed to and that sounds nice, but it really doesn’t help the fact that right now Iraq is breaking up with me and I didn't even see it coming. My roommate (who's looking over my shoulder as I write this) reminds me the first thing any man does when he gets dumped is immediately establish his awesomeness elsewhere. And I remind him that while this classically takes the form of a night of bad casual sex or a bad night attempting the same, we all end up at home, alone, drunk and on her FaceBook page. In this case, I think we’ll both just end up in Afghanistan.

And that’d be just fine by us.