Adventures in the Café

Panties

G sent me a message the other day indicating that she had been broken up with by her young man. He's a few years younger than she is, and apparently pretty immature as evidenced by the way he chose to end things. Perhaps he was raised by wolves, perhaps he had laryngitis, or perhaps he is the Hammer's Reigning Panty. Whatever the reason was, he decided to break up with G via email.

This implies a decided lack of effort and respect. Not to mention a total lack of balls. She has decided not to respond to him at all, but rather chalk it up to a loss. I agree with her maturity and respect her for it. I, however, would love to start sending one liners to him citing the various synonyms of female genitalia that describe him perfectly. Bridget Jones' Diary introduced us to the term "fuckwit" and never has it been more applicable than in today's dating climate. A climate wherein people are more circumspect about the level of involvement, emotional attachment, and interaction they have with members of the opposite sex.

Some people just want a fling, some want relationships, some want a partnership, some want a mate, and if you're the women I used to work with you want men who do shift work so that they're barely around, but boy, when they are...Have you really paid attention to firemen lately? Utterly lickable.

When G told me about this I was angry for her and I asked the boy I'm seeing to promise me that if he was going to break up with me he'd do it over the phone or in person, and not via email. He didn't really respond in the desired fashion. "Oh my, God, of course not! That's so rude." Fine, fair enough, but I was really hoping for something along the lines of, "I would never do that, and I would never break up with you either because you are my sun, my moon, my starlit sky. Without you I wither in darkness. Tonight let me worship you in my arms!" I really liked Val Kilmer in Willow. I really like Val Kilmer.

I'm usually the dumper, but on occasion have found myself as the dumpee. When Dave the Third dumped me it was less of a true break up than a "I'll call you when I get out of the shower." To my knowledge the poor bastard drowned in there because I never got that call.

The ending of my most recent relationship went much better than expected to the point where I was given presents. It was close to Valentine's Day and he was honest enough with himself to realize that he'd never take the stuff back, so I got it anyway. It's a surreal experience to receive gifts for breaking someone's heart.

Of course you're going to hurt someone's feelings when you break up with them. It's rejection and that is painful, but more hurtful is the lingering death throes of a doomed relationship. The kind where you just let it drag on and on and continue to let your feelings get hurt by the indifference of someone who is too chicken to just say that they don't think it's happening; you're not the one for them. I hate that, rather than stewing and ignoring and avoiding, just say. And this applies to both parties. There's no reason why the person who's sitting around wondering what's going on and why the other person seems so withdrawn to show a little spine and decide that they're not going to put up with shit anymore.

At any rate, everyone hears this, but it's completely true of G. His loss, so, so his loss. And G, if you feel any sort of negative emotion whatsoever you can comfort yourself with this much-loved schlocky expression of Oprah's: "he is a child of God put on this earth to teach you a lesson no one else could." Like how to be a panty.