Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.
Sorry if I sound a little bitter; it's just that two days before this semester started, my relationship with my former girlfriend disintegrated. My ex-girlfriend is now sleeping with other men - not that she had stopped doing that while we were going out, but at least I won't have to stand in line waiting for her anymore. Singlehood has its advantages.
We went out for a year and a month. That's roughly four hundred days wasted with the wrong person. And it the worst part is that it wasn't even that great a relationship. We argued a lot and we never agreed on what movie to rent in the video store. (Yeah, sure, that sounds minor, but you try watching "Reservoir Dogs" when you're really in the mood for "The Muppet Movie". Every Friday night. For a year.) I'm not sure if the fact that we stayed together for so long means that I'm becoming a more mature individual or that I'm simply developing a higher tolerance for pain.
Of course, breaking up is a difficult task. (I was going to say, "Breaking up is hard to do," but I refuse to quote Martha Raye and the Shondelles.) There's this insidious lie that says you should be best friends with whoever you're going out with. Let me say this is large letters -
DON'T.
Hate the person you're going out with. Despise them. Ignore them when you can - have them stab you once in awhile just so you won't feel too attached to them. If necessary, start dating rocks, trees, accountants, and other inanimate objects just so you won't be both friends and lovers with your partner, because having them being the same thing is a bad, bad idea. Despite what any yahoo Ann Landers imitator may tell you.
Why? Well, the two-in-one theory works out just fine if the person you're with turns out to be The One. But let's be realistic. How often does that happen? Once, if you're lucky. And how many other people are you going to date before you finally stumble onto that one perfect partner? How many breakups does that add up to?
And if your girlfriend's your best friend, when you break it off with your girlfriend who is most definitely not The One, who did you intend to talk about it with?
I know that I'm not calling up my ex-girlfriend and supposedly-still best friend to say, "Hey, you know I'm really upset because you turned out to be a total slutburger. I'm not saying you were loose, but sleeping with you was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway and I was never sure what species of mammal I was going to find in bed with you from week to week. Even though you're the cause of all the misery in my life, can you give me a little sympathy, talk me through it?"
Uh-huh. Some best friend she turned out to be.
Another problem is that the bitch has seeded your apartment with emotional landmines. The moment after you break up you sweep through your bedroom, trying to expunge all traces of her existence. That shirt she left over here? Bang. Burn it. That poem she wrote for my birthday. Argh. Shred it. That VCR she got me for Christmas?
- now hang on a second, we're not crazy here....
But you try not to remember her at all, and one day you're cleaning up when wham, you find it. Girlfriend spoor. Something she - sob - left behind. And you start feeling all emotional, and you remember everything that was good about your relationship, and you really feel like calling her up again and giving it another chance... until you remember why you broke up with her in the first place. Then you swear a lot and fantasize about blowing up her apartment.
You also wind up sectioning the town into Demilitarized Zones. Before you could go anywhere, but now you know that she's going to be hanging out here, here, and here. And you had a really tender moment here. Gak.
Your friends might complain when you plan your nights out, but you know that walking into any of these places is like jogging through Beirut with a yarmulke on. You'd definitely remember her, and you might even see her there, and that'd trigger some very nice memories that you're trying to block out now, thankyouverymuch. You're broken up. Remembering how happy you were is only going to make the present that much more unbearable.
That's why I feel sorry for divorcees. They've spent ten, twenty, sometimes thirty years with the same person - where haven't you gone? What haven't you done together? You can't stay in the house, you can't go out anywhere because you've been everywhere, you can't talk with your ex without going through her lawyer - your best bet is to join the Foreign Legion, but with your luck you probably took a trip to France at some point.
Anyway, I am recovering. Slowly. Surely. I am not as bitter as I used to be (the first draft of this column caused libel lawyers across America to begin salivating), and things are getting better. And I am sure that my ex-girlfriend, wherever she is, is becoming happier too.
The bitch.
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| An uncommon blast of vitriol even from me, I can't believe I got this published given the libel laws in the state, and how easily it would have been to track down who this was. Yet published in the school newspaper it was. But that's not the funny thing. The funny thing is that we got back together two weeks later, and she never knew, |
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 A funny comic about sex, blogging, and love, written by the guy who wrote all the essays on this site! Why not click the link and check it out? | |
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