Love and the Break-up Queen

The Breakup:

A)  Severe death.

B)  Loss of false identity.

C)  Heart drawn and quartered by ravenous ferrets.

D)  Puncture.  Quick loss of oxygen.

E)  Bloodletting, Leeches.

F) Forgiveness.  I know, Fuck is usually the answer.

G)  Division of assets you never had which now equal less than nothing.

H)  Don’t drive angry.

I)  With proper medication, it doesn’t hurt a bit.  This method can be costly and produces quirky side effects.  Avoid markets like Whole Foods where you’ll be compelled to buy frozen pies and Hydrangeas.

J)  And forget about how the girl you love is off gallivanting around town with a new gun in her holster.

She dumped me because she loved me too much.  How do you love someone too much?  For some people, any “love” is too much.  So she dug me like an irrigation laborer, but she couldn’t stand to feel anything that registered higher than a four on her heart Richter.  Otherwise someone might leave her and she would be heart-quaked and could disappear through a fissure in her terra firma, or some such bullshit.  So she ends the relationship while still in love.  It’s a neat trick if you can pull it off.  It’s like jumping from your sports car while doing 140 on the Autobahn.  Only problem is at that velocity it’s hard to jump far enough to clear the tires.

So now she is like a black plague that needs not only an unsuspecting host, she needs one who has not developed an immunity to her virus.  If a virus stays with a community too long, the population will either die or get stronger.  The virus must keep moving to keep up the element of surprise and be assured of a vulnerable victim.  So my ex finds some girl who she immediately starts fucking.  In fact, chances are she was rocking this new chick’s world at the same time she was still flinging my swing.  Girls sometimes use this overlapping behavior for last minute comparison shopping.  This is superfluous knowledge that doesn’t make anyone feel good.

My ex, for convenience purposes will be called Brie.  It’s the name that describes someone who is a triple cream, but could also go off easily.  Brie is bringing her new chick to all the social functions where she and I used to frequent, which doesn’t hurt all that much considering I only frequented struggling dance clubs and dive bars.  I think it’s great, even enviable, that she can have sex with a complete stranger within minutes of our breakup.  Of course, I’m healthfully narcissistic enough to think I know what Brie needs — what everyone needs after a breakup.  Alone-time!  Alone time is not when you can’t get reception on your cell while flying through the canyon.  If you spend time alone, you will not spontaneously internally combust as was first believed by the early female settlers.  You may however, with proper lighting and music, trigger some feelings of sadness.  Tears might begin to flow from those tiny ducts at the corners of your eyes.  This is just another use for Kleenex beside blowing the cocain clear from your nasal passages.  Eventually you will stop crying.  Grieving is a necessary part of the healing process. Completely off the topic, I’m sorry about that last fight.  It was wrong of me to say, “You hate everyone, including yourself,” in response to you telling me, “I hate you.”  Maybe you do hate only me.

The only thing which is truly painful about having a girlfriend drop you and become immediately involved with one of the square pegs in your circle, is that you fucking miss her.  You miss your friend.  This happens when people break up.  We lose our best friend.  Sure, she was my lover and the sex was indescribable.  In fact, whenever we made love, I couldn’t help wishing I could project the whole event up onto a massive screen across the sky so that everyone would be privy to how amazing she was in bed.  It’s all over now.  But you could still get your chance to catch her show individually.  Anyway, I miss her.  She was fun to play with.  And we played as if we had invented childhood.  I guess it would have gotten old after a while, being so young.

Maybe some of you are thinking, why don’t you just become friends?   It’s practically impossible to be friends right away.  I’ll call her now and she’ll put me on hold and forget to come back.  She’ll call me an hour later and say, “Why did you hang up?”  We might go out for dinner and she’d begin chatting up some woman neurotic enough to be me.  I’d be like, “What did you leave me for?”

Brie called me a while ago.  Okay, I called her but who’s counting?

I said, “Hey, what’s up?”

She said basically, “Ya wanna talk?”

“About what?” I asked.

“About how you’re feeling.”  She said.

“I feel fine, Brie.  You know how I feel.  I’m an open book.”

So finally she admits that she misses me.  Then she invites me over to her house.  I ask her why she is saying all this to me while I am trying to move on.

“I’m fucked up.”  She answers.

And she says it with such finesse that it sounds enticing.  It makes me want to be fucked up too.  I wanna say, “Yeah, I’ll be right over.”  Instead I decline the generous offer to kneel at the block of her bed and give her my head.

I don’t know what it is that makes us strong at some moments and weak in others.  For instance, I called her a few hours later to see if she still wanted me to come over.   She said I missed the door.  Perhaps the door was really ajar to trap me in.  Maybe another butterfly was already being wrapped for consumption.  I tried not to take it personally.  So, of course, I did.

I know that other people don’t hurt me.  I just use others to hurt myself temporarily while I’m not feeling any other emotion.  If this can save just one person from allowing me to use them in this way, then it will have all been worth it.  It might seem as if I distance my own pain by using sarcastic and sometimes caustic humor.   And in actuality I’m probably not some cool hard-boiled character who has it all figured out.  I might get hurt sometimes, it’s still great to fall in love.  That feeling reminds us of how vibrant life is supposed to feel all the time.  The people we fall in love with are just placebos.  I’ve been in love my whole life.  People just seem to wander in and out of my range.