Catullus and Lesbia: A Situationship Saga

Lesbia and Her Sparrow

Situationship: “When two people take part in a relationship, but out of fear of making things serious or messy, do not label it, leading to said relationship, ironically, becoming more serious and messier” - The Urban Dictionary (a.k.a., any Snapchatter’s most frequently visited website). Just as confusing as its definition, a situationship might be one of the more disheartening concepts of our generation. Have you ever asked someone their relationship status, and rather than a simple single or taken answer, they respond with a stuttering seven seconds of awkward silence followed by an uncomfortable pile of “um”s and “its complicated”s? That dumbfounded look on their face right there is the ultimate mark of the dreaded situationship.  Most people think that this concept is modern and new. Some hypothesize that social media culture of short attention spans has stomped on romance, and created the fear of monogamy and commitment that flags a situationship. However, when Catullus, an ancient Roman poet, describes his situationship with Lesbia, their problems sound all too familiar. 

Catullus paints a comically confusing picture of his relationship with Lesbia in his (frustratingly) many, many poems about her. When things are looking up for the couple, Catullus writes beautiful poetry describing his undying love for her. He begs her to seize the day and be with him, pleading for millions of kisses and praising her beauty. When he goes negative, on the other hand, his words are nasty and sharp. Still, despite relentlessly slut shaming her and claiming no one else will ever want to be with her, somehow Catullus always winds up hinting at missing her and struggling to move on. He seems to be as confused about his feelings towards Lesbia as we are. Not only are his feelings confusing, but the actual nature of their relationship is complex and blurry. In poem 72, he fumes at her previous (allegedly false) claims that she was with no one but him when they were together. This “are we exclusive?” confusion is textbook situationship; because the relationship is unlabeled, no one really knows the boundaries and rules. Lesbia seems to be following a similar don’t-ask-don’t-tell rule. Catullus wallows in self pity because he longs for commitment and feelings rather than just sex. Clearly, they were on very different pages about what they were and the legitimacy of their relationship. In short, this entire complaint feels straight out of the comments section on a tiktok crying about a situationship. 

In all honesty, Catullus’ Lesbia poems pull me in two very different directions. On one hand, Catullus triggers the angry feminist in me. She doesn’t want to be with him, so he slanders and slut-shames her to cope with his rejection. Don’t get me wrong, this is a terrible and inexcusable habit. He simultaneously demeans her and depicts her as an overly masculine figure to soften the blow to his own ego. Pathetic, embarrassing, etc. However, a tiny less judgy part of me sympathizes with Catullus. He clearly had deep feelings for this girl who not only didn’t reciprocate, but, by his account, gave him hope that they could be more. While the way he goes about this practically provokes my fight or flight reaction, I also understand the inclination to put down someone who has hurt you to try to convince yourself you are better off. In this way, his poems sound like unfiltered pages out of his diary. He went through the stages of grief in trying to get over her, but he got stuck (really stuck) in the anger stage. The problem here, though, is that this is not his diary; he writes these words in a published book for the world to read. Today, Lesbia, or Clodia whom she is believed to be, is only discussed through the context of his poetry. He took control of her legacy and immortalized her as this overpowering and oversexual figure because their relationship shattered his fragile ego. Here lies another more subtle (and frankly depressing) similarity between Catullus and Lesbia’s relationship, and a modern situationship. When a relationship falls apart in some way, people tend to hate on, and for boys specifically, slut shame, the other person to their friends to recover their egos. People spread all these rumors and create a reputation that their ex has no control over, just like how Lesbia has no control over her final legacy here.

These little similarities between Catullus and Lesbia’s relationship and modern situationships are like common ground between 21st century teenagers and an ancient poet (not exactly an expected mix). In some ways, the fact that this situationship style has been around for so long is disheartening; if relationships have always been confusing, they’re certainly not uncomplicating anytime soon. However, there is also something comforting about knowing that this issue is not new. So much has changed in the thousands of years since Catullus’ lifetime, yet this weird (and painful) romantic dynamic stuck around. With the exception of the occasional creepily perfect couple, romance always feels unpredictable and unstable. In some weird way, I’m glad that this confusion is consistent; never understanding it is the one thing about love you can count on.