the end.

I know I’ve slacked off a bit this week, partly because I’ve been hideously busy with work and extracurricular activities, but also because I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this blog post. You see, something big happened to me recently, something that is a major breakthrough in my personal life, and I needed some time to process it before I started writing about it. Truth be told, I’m still not exactly sure how to deal with this, but dammit, I’m going to try (and no, I did not find a significant other or enter into a new relationship, so you can chill out with that business.)

In fact, sort of the opposite thing happened. I was finally able to close the book on a past relationship, and I don’t know if I’ve ever known such a sense of relief, hope and assurance. You see, this was not just any relationship that was finally laid to rest; this the the relationship. The one that I thought was The One. This was the guy I was ready to say “I do” to, whose dismissal crushed me harder and more completely than any other rejection in my life, and whose memory haunted me for years, always accompanied by that most tortuous of questions – What if?

I got my answer to that question last weekend, when I came face to face with him, and what I’ve been realizing little by little in the four years since our spectacular demise was undoubtedly crystallized  – it would never have worked. It will never work. There is nothing left between us but memories, some good, some bad, but definitely in the past.

It doesn’t mean I think ill of him, or wish ill on him; I still care about him a great deal, and am sure I always will. But I don’t love him, and more importantly, I don’t want him to love me. That which I thought was imperative to my happiness in life isn’t. I see that now. I see  that we’re two very different people, and while that doesn’t necessarily need to be the death knell for a relationship, in our case it would mean there would always be more conflict than harmony in our relationship, and that is something I know I do not want. I’m older and wiser now than I was when he and I were dating, and I know now not to mistake constant turmoil and fighting for passion and excitement, and mind games for intellectual stimulation. There are plenty of other ways to have those elements in a relationship. The person who will make me happy and who I will love will know that.

There was a time – and I’m not ashamed to admit this, because I think everyone pretty much knew it anyway – but there was a time when he could have showed up on my doorstep, asking for another chance, and I would have agreed in a heartbeat. That time has passed; I suspected it for a long time, and it was confirmed when I saw him. I wouldn’t say that I felt nothing; I felt a lot of emotions, but love and desire were not among them, and that is the most important thing. I was able to walk away, without looking back, looking only ahead.

done.

It’s official. As of today, I am announcing my resignation from dating. (Well, technically, as of 11:30 pm Wednesday night, but let’s not split hairs.) I’m not swearing off men (perish the thought!), or even giving up on the notion of one day finding a man I can love, respect and want to share my life with. But as for all of this “Let’s go out for dinner and make stilted, awkward conversation/Should I text? Should I call?/Where are we going? Do you like me? Do I like you?” demoralizing, draining, degrading bullshit called dating – I. Am. Done.

I don’t want to credit this exile from the dating to one single person; let’s face it, this decision is the culmination of a lot of disappointments, heartache, stress, and ridiculousness. However, the events of Wednesday night were the final nail in the coffin.

Let’s backtrack. About three weeks to a month ago, I met a guy on plentyoffish.com whom I’ll refer to as “Palooka,” because that’s really just the best way to describe him. (Side note – this is the first guy whose full name I have considered using on this site, simply for the fact that he is such a tool, he deserves to be publicly shamed and mocked. However, I’m not going to do it at the expense of my integrity and good name, so henceforth and heretofore he will be known as Palooka. But if you want to know his real name, just ask. I’ll be happy to tell you.)

Anyway, I found his profile, and thought it looked promising enough, especially given that he specifically indicated that he wasn’t into playing games, appreciated honesty, and wasn’t a bull-shitter. I e-mailed him, noting that I liked his straight-forwardness; when he responded, he re-iterated again that he didn’t like people who were passive-aggressive or beat around the bush, always tried to be honest with people, and appreciated when people were upfront with him. I know this may not seem important now, but trust me, it will be.

So fast forward a week or so. We talk on the phone, and it’s good; he can at least carry on a conversation, which is more than I could have said for the last guy I dated. We decided to meet for coffee, which turned into a walk in the park, which turned into dinner – all in all, a very good date. We hung out twice more, and even though it was nice, I started to realize that I just wasn’t that into him. He was a nice enough guy, but wasn’t really intellectually stimulating, which, even though I’m no Stephen Hawking, is important to me; wasn’t very cultured or well-spoken, and didn’t do it for me physically. Wanting to make sure I gave this guy a fair shot, since he didn’t completely repulse me, I agreed to one more date, on Wednesday night. We went to Eastern State Penitentiary (a little unorthodox, I know, but that’s how I roll) and then to dinner. I had a nice enough time, but by the time we were done with dinner, I was convinced that we had gone as far as we could, and love was not going to be blooming from this bud.

Since over dinner we had again talked about being honest and straightforward when it comes to dating, when he asked me if I wanted to hang out again as we were leaving the restaurant, I figured it would be best to just bite the bullet, be polite, and tell him that we were done. I basically said that while I thought he was a nice guy and enjoyed getting to know him, I didn’t feel there was romantic chemistry between us, and didn’t really see it turning into something serious. I said that, knowing this, I thought it would be better to tell him, rather than lead him on or just fall off the face of the earth. I also said that, since I knew he was looking for something serious, I didn’t want to waste his time, but that if he wanted to keep in touch, I would be cool with that (hey, I can always use another person to go grab a beer with once in awhile). He seemed to take it well, saying that he kind of felt the same way over the last date or two that the “spark” wasn’t really there. Sure, it was an awkward conversation, but as awkward conversations go, it was pretty painless. I dropped him off back at his workplace, where he was picking up his stuff before leaving, and drove off, figuring that was the end of it.

It was, until about 11:30 that night. As I’m laying in bed watching Family Guy, I get a text message. Whatever. And then I quickly get four more texts in rapid succession. Uh-oh. Here now, I present to you, verbatim, the text messages the Palooka had the audacity to send me:

“Hey thinking about what you said. i came to conclusion that i dont want to be friends. i am tired of women who want jerks so they can feel bad for themselves. i hope you meet jerk of your dreams and for the record i can do better than you. i just thought that maybe the ones not in my league are fine. Guess not. Maybe its because your from PA. Who knows. Dont bother writing back because this number is on auto delete and I dont open messages i have no idea who they are from. Wow its finally feels nice to have last word for once.  Going back to being a player. That is why my girlfriend likes me because I am a jerk. Cheers.”

And that, my friends, is the poorly worded, mistake-riddled, barely coherent, massively insulting text message series that sounded the death knell for my interest in dating. Because really, I may not be perfect, I may not be the best person in the world, but I sure as shit do not deserve that.

Per his “request,” I didn’t respond. What would have been the point? I wasn’t going to change his mind, I didn’t want to change his mind, and I certainly did not want to get involved in some sort of fifth-grade schoolyard insult-off with him. However, that didn’t stop me from composing in my mind a totally devastating, eviscerating response, which I will now share with all of you because really, it’s too beautiful to waste away in the gray matter of my neurotic little brain:

Dear [Palooka],

Wow. Typical guy. You’re all about honesty, truth and straightforwardness until someone tells you something you don’t want to hear, and then you’re crying and screaming like a goddamn 5-year-old girl with a skinned knee. Way to reveal yourself as a complete hypocrite. Yes, rejection is painful and unpleasant, but there is a way to handle it with dignity and class, two things you obviously know nothing about. Although, I guess I should be thanking you. By showing what an immature, spiteful jackass you are, you confirmed that I made the right choice in not pursuing a relationship with you. Good luck finding a girl who is better than me; perhaps there will be one waiting for you when you return to the rock that you crawled out from under.

Sincerely,
Kristen

Seriously, folks, I should write for Hallmark.

dating do’s and don’t's part 5: advice in general

Well folks, it’s been quite a week. We’ve talking about first dates, phone etiquette, online dating, and sex, but today I wanted to leave with the gentlemen with a few pieces of general advice to guide them through the sometimes hazardous waters of the dating pool. While nothing can guarantee romantic success, following these tips will at least ensure that fewer women will be throwing darts at your picture or bashing you mercilessly to her friends during Happy Hour. Good luck!

1. Please remember that in the early stages of dating, everything you do sends a message. Most girls will try to keep an open mind and not be judgmental, but with little information to go on about you as a person, every word or action takes on a greater significance, so bear that in mind.
2. Everyone’s sense of humor is different, so until you know that the person you’re dating is cool with offensive, off-color humor, you probably want to lay off the racial, sexual, non-PC jokes.
3. Don’t ask a girl what her bra size is within your first ten minutes of talking to her.
4. Don’t play games. Be straight-forward and honest; if you’re interested in a girl, let her know. If you’re not, politely and respectfully tell her. Save the games for the field, court or TV.
5. Don’t lie, even if you’re only doing it to “protect” the girl. Not only will she find out, she’ll be twice as furious as she would have been if you had just told her the truth from the start.
6. Do not compare the girl you are currently seeing to an ex. It is never appropriate or proper etiquette to throw her name around loosely during conversation.
7. Never end a break-up conversation with the phrase “…but I’d like it if we could still be friends.” Even if you really mean it, the moment after rejecting a girl is not the time to say it. It does not soften the blow, and only adds insult to injury. Wait until the girl stops wanting to rip out your jugular, and then broach the subject of being friends.
8. If you are in the early stages of dating a girl (i.e. are not officially in an exclusive, committed relationship) and she breaks it off, you are entitled to have your say in a polite, respectful manner. Do not become whiney, emo, nasty, antagonistic, disrespectful, stalker-ish, or, under any circumstances, cry.
9. Recognize when it’s time to admit defeat. Calling or texting a girl two weeks (or two months) after she’s stopped communicating with you will not convince her that you’re persistent and really into her; it will convince her that you’re annoying, pathetic and possibly a stalker.
10. At the end of the day, above all else, do not be the type of guy a girl has to share her box of tampons with. Nobody’s saying you have to be a closed-off emotional cripple; sharing feelings is great and an important component of a successful relationship, but one of the reasons women love men is because you’re strong, assertive, rational and supportive. Showing a softer side once in awhile is fine, but one pussy per relationship is quite enough.

magnum opus

Over the past few days I accumulated some opinions regarding my query in Wednesday’s post, and, not surprisingly, they were quite varied.  Some people offered a cautious, “Follow your heart and your gut” response, while others (Charlie) offered the “I think you’re taking an extra helping of crazy pills” response.

In general, though, the replies were not so much about the protocol of who contacts whom, but about examining the reasons for and appropriateness of the contact.  There are those who made the argument that, for the good of all parties, some doors are better off closed.  No one advocated denying a relationship happened, or not paying due diligence to its memory from time to time, but, as it was put to me by one Julie Grega:  “It’s like a book that you read halfway through, and then lose interest in.  So you put it on the shelf, and from time to time you think about taking it down and finishing it, but then you remember that the last chapter was really hard to get through, and you’re still not interested, so you just leave it there.”

The flip side to that argument, of course, is that in certain situations, with certain people, you need the closure; you need to finish the book, so to speak, even if you have to slog through it, page by excruciating page, just to prove to yourself that you can do it.  So it goes with exes.  Sometimes you have to reach out to them just to prove you can, because, in acknowledging them, you de-mystify them.  Instead of being a concept that you’ve built up or torn down in your mind (depending on the circumstances of the break-up), your ex returns to exactly what he is – a human being with whom you once shared something very intimate and special, but whose life has veered off in a direction different from yours, someone you can acknowledge as a person who exists in your universe, and nothing more.

A couple people raised the question “What’s the point of making contact?  What are you looking to get out of it?”  A valid question, to be sure, as usually there is some sort of ulterior motive for initiating contact.  But, in certain cases, I think making the contact, extending the hand is the point; there’s no expectation of re-establishing a relationship, or even receiving a reply.  It’s more of a personal hurdle to cross – to know that you made the effort, to prove to yourself that you could make the effort.  To return to the book analogy, you have to finish it for the satisfaction of knowing you could.  The book’s not going to give you a standing ovation when you reach the last page, and your ex may never acknowledge your contact, but you know you did it, and came through unscathed, and that is the only payoff you need.

A sort of mantra that has developed in my life and the lives of those around me in the past few days is “You can only do what you can do,” meaning, you can only be responsible for the things in your control; as for things outside your control, there’s not much use in worrying about them, because they’re out of your control.  When it comes to exes, you can only do what you can do; how he or she reacts is out of your control.  But at the end of the day, there is a certain peace that comes with knowing you’ve done all that you can do.

contact

Dear readers, if I may, today I would like to pick your brains for a bit (that phrase conjures up some bizarre imagery, but I love it just the same), on the subject of exes, specifically communication between exes.

Last night over drinks with Julie at National Mechanics, we started talking about exes and the ghosts of romances past, and when it’s appropriate to contact someone, and when it’s not. I shared my belief that, following a non-mutual break-up (which is a nice way of saying somebody got dumped), it should be up to the injured party to re-establish contact when and if he or she feels it’s necessary.

My argument for this is that, when someone is dumped, his or her recovery period is usually much longer and more substantial than that of the person who did the dumping.  As anyone who’s ever been dumped knows, it’s a very delicate time; you’re doing everything you can to hold it together, and the slightest push – a familiar song on the radio, the sight of the restaurant where you had your first date, an old T-shirt found buried in a drawer – can make you fall to pieces.  Getting a phone call, e-mail or visit from your ex is nearly catastrophic during this time, until you’re really and truly over him or her.  That’s why I feel, out of respect for those in their mourning and recovery period, those who have been dumped should be left alone by those who dumped them, until all wounds have been healed or at least thoroughly licked clean.

Julie, however, did not seem convinced, so it made me curious – what do you all think is the proper protocol for re-establishing communication after a break-up?  Do you think communication should ever cease during or after a break-up?  Do you think some sleeping dogs are better left alone?  Leave some comments and let me know what you think!

the ex-factor

Ex-significant others.  Everybody’s got ‘em.  Some people have several.  Everybody who has one is one.  Yet, for such a universal experience, the business of exes is one that never seems to get less complicated.

I’m thinking about this now because one of this blog’s co-stars, Ang, was due to meet up tonight with her ex, with whom she parted ways back in October.  This was to be the first time they’ve seen each other since the night they broke up.

While I don’t have the details on the outcome of this powwow yet (although I’m sure I will soon enough), it got me thinking about the delicate nature of dealing with exes.  Unless you’re a hermit, you deal with a lot of people everyday – family, friends, co-workers, classmates, random strangers – but exes fall into a category all their own when it comes to communicating with them, due to the paradox surrounding them.  Almost inevitably, an ex is a person about whom you care very much and want in your life, yet, most likely for one reason or another, you want them to disappear in a cloud of steam and smoke like The Wicked Witch of the West.  Which means dealing with an ex requires all the delicacy and precision of a surgeon performing a quadruple bypass – one small slip, and irreversible damage can be done.

Allegedly, a group of people exists who can maintain solid, sincere friendships with their exes (and I mean long-term relationship exes, not people who dated but ultimately decided to remain friends).  I say allegedly because I don’t actually know any people who do this.  Maybe my friends and I are a bunch of cold, unforgiving harpies, but I can’t think of anyone who has maintained a close, functional friendship with one of his or her exes.  Which I can’t help but think is how it should be.

Perhaps my friends and I have only experienced extremely traumatic break-ups involving lots of harsh accusations, hurt feelings, and general anger, but when a break-up is that traumatic, it stands to reason that the only way to move forward is to make a clean break from that relationship, at least for an extended period of time.  From personal experience, trying to maintain a cordial, friendly relationship with an ex too soon after a break-up can only lead to more hurt feelings and heartache.  Sometimes that sort of friendly relationship is altogether impossible, no matter how much time has passed or how badly you want it.  Time may heal all wounds, but the scars and weak spots remain.

Over the weekend, while I was visiting my parents, the subject of my last ex-boyfriend, from whom I split last September, came up.

“Do you ever hear from him, or talk to him?” my dad asked.

I paused in the middle of hanging an ornament on our Christmas tree.  “No,” I said, a bit wistfully.  “It’s not like I don’t want to – I would like to know how he’s doing actually, but…I don’t want to rock the boat.  I know how upsetting that can be when an ex pops back up in your life.  I don’t want to do that to him, if he’s doing better without me.  When -if- he ever wants to get back in touch with me, he can.”

Is it the right thing to do?  How am I supposed to know?  I’m no surgeon – I just fumble around and hope for the best, like everyone else.

why can’t we be friends?

Today marked a milestone in the relatively short life of this’ere li’l blog.  I actually reached the point when I have written so many posts that I needed to go through the archives to determine if I had already written about the topic I had in mind for today, because I couldn’t recall all of my previous posts.  Either that or I’m in the early stages of Alzheimer’s.  Shit!

Luckily, though, the topic for today’s post is not one that I have previously written about at length, although it’s surprising that it took me this long to get around to this subject – trying to be friends with someone you’ve dated.

I was compelled to write about this subject today because, when talking to my friend Ang last night, she pretty much told me I was going to.  While I like to stay unpredictable, I had to admit, now is as good a time as any to address the Most Dreaded Words In The Dating Lexicon – “I’d like it if we could still be friends.”  (Ok, maybe third most dreaded, behind “We need to talk” and “I’m late.  You know – late.“)

Ang handed down her decree on this issue because she was, in fact, confronted with the Dreaded Words Tuesday night when she and her boyfriend of about three months broke up.  It was about as mutual as a break-up can get; both parties knew that things weren’t going well, and that they had different priorities in their lives at this time.  They differed in that Ang was willing to keep trying, and to try harder, to turn things around and make the relationship work.  Her boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t, because he felt they didn’t have enough in common, that they were too different.  Which made it all the more absurd a few minutes later when he told Ang, “I still like hanging out with you and would like it if we could still be friends.”

Ang’s response  is the reason that I, and every other person who has gotten the “I hope we can be friends,” should bow down and worship at her feet:  “Oh yeah?  And how is that supposed to work, considering you just told me we have nothing in common?  How can you be friends with someone you have nothing in common with?  Please explain it to me, because I’d love to know.”

Even my cold, black little heart can’t help but swell in delight and triumph at the blow Ang struck for everyone who’s ever been half-heartedly offered friendship as a consolation prize for being dumped.  Because what Ang, her (soon-to-be ex-) boyfriend, the waitress, and everybody else knows is that 99 percent of the time, when someone tells you he or she wants to still be friends after you break up, it is complete bullshit.  It’s generic, easy-out lip service that people give because they think it somehow softens the blow, that it will make them look more empathetic and kind while breaking someone’s heart.  It helps them sleep better at night, because, even if they have no intention of following through, they can still whisper to themselves that at least they tried.  It’s sort of like saying “God bless you” when somebody sneezes, even though you don’t believe in God; it’s something you say because it makes you feel a little better, and frankly, society expects it.

Of course, what anyone who has ever been on the receiving end of the “Let’s be friends” olive branch knows is that in the heat of a break-up, even a mutual one, the last thing you want is to be friends with your ex.  Delete his number and de-friend him on Facebook?  Yes.  Tear up her pictures and throw out all the gifts from her?  Yes.  Punt his dog over a bridge into a river? Maybe.  But go hang out and have a beer and shoot the shit like your bestest buds?  No freaking way.  Knowing that the offer is most likely insincere only adds insult to injury, and even in that rare, one percent instance when it is sincere, that the other person truly does  enjoy your company and wants you in his/her life as a friend, one still doesn’t want to be offered friendship while simultaneously being told they are undesirable as a boyfriend/girlfriend.  It’s just…not good timing.

I’m not saying it’s impossible for people who once dated, or were in a relationship, or were even married, to be friends.  It’s even happened to me, albeit only once, in my long and illustrious history of failed relationships sealed with a pretty “Let’s be friends” bow.  But it’s rare, and it only happens over time, when the deeper romantic feelings one or both parties have for each other have subsided.  One has to fully process the hurt, anger and disappointment of the failed relationship and break-up before he or she can commit to developing a true friendship with a former lover.  Push too hard too fast, and someone will still end up getting hurt (Ha.  That’s what she said.)  But seriously, I know from experience.  If you break up with someone and then try to be his or her friend before you’re completely over being their significant other, you will only end up trying to fit them back into the significant other mold that you know so well, and the healing process can never fully occur.  In my experience, if you really want to be friends with an ex, it helps if you’ve already gone through the period of cursing and crying and cutting up their photos.

So that is why today, I dedicate this post to Ang Freaking Brockman, for standing up for herself and throwing the brakes on the bullshit train, and not accepting the runner-up prize in the relationship sweepstakes.  You are truly an inspiration, and next time you bring your sweet-ass self to Philadelphia, I am buying you a drink!