Yesterday I was driving home, listening to NPR, and I hear a story about getting your heart stomped on, and what better time of the year is there to explore heartbreak than this Hallmark-manufactured holiday dedicated to totally unrealistic expectations?
The story on NPR was astonishingly pedestrian given the topic. Is it just me or has NPR's quality declined? I mean, does Juan Williams even know what a follow-up question is?
But I digress.
The story did raise the question of whether men and women deal differently with getting the ole heave-ho.
It never occurred to me that men and women handle heartbreak differently. I thought we all curled up on the carpet like a bug in a frying pan. I thought we all made drunk calls at 3 a.m. with our IQ, dignity and pants down around our ankles and the slim glimmer of hope in our alcoholic haze. I thought everyone sat outside our former lover's house, a pistol in our laps, a vodka bottle and a bag of fast food burgers on the passenger seat.
No? Really? Just me?
I obviously need a bit of edification. Do men and women really cope with getting the shaft in different ways? I need to know.
Talk to me.
*Illustration by Chase Melendez
5 comments:
I rented a room from an ex... who turned into an ex-ex, later, but that's a whole other story. Anyway, she tells me that there's one other guy, but he'll be out of town for a few months and hasn't actually moved in, yet. Just his stuff.
So a couple months go by, and I never see him. Then out of the blue she tells me, "He's getting out of the halfway house this Thursday."
"Halfway house? The fuck are you talking about?"
Turns out that "Out of town," meant Pitchess Detention Center up in Castaic. He'd been doing a stint in County for lewd behavior, a DWI, a possession charge (cocaine), and indecent exposure. He'd been dating this girl for about a week when she dumped him and he went on a three day bender. Ends up sitting on her lawn buck naked, coked to the gills, screaming up at her bedroom window at three in the morning.
Then there's the whole underage thing. He was 35, she decidedly was not. So when her dad comes out to yell at him, he bolts. He's got the wherewithal to keep his car keys with him, but god only knows what he's done with his underwear.
Anyway, cops pick him up on the freeway, hands over his johnson, trying not to have to get out of the car to conduct a sobriety test. The arrest him on the spot.
Cemetery love at its finest.
Man, all you gotta do is find a girl that looks just like her, nail her, and then dump her, man. Get her of your mind.
Bitches, man.
What Dusty said.
(Dude, we have, like, totally identical credos.)
Karma always gets 'em in the end. My last girlfriend cheated on me, then eventually got dumped by her new man for her best friend.
She supposedly regrets her actions. Me, I'm happy it all happened. I'm currently in the longest relationship of my life and it don't look like it's ending anytime soon.
I also threw some of the ex's clothes in a metal bin out in the backyard and watched them burn.
Very cathartic, that.
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