Friday, April 20, 2007
And how do you feel about that?
So I had a break-up the other day. One with a guy I wasn't dating. Yes, I got a guy I was NOT dating to break up with me. I'm THAT good.
It all stemmed from my standard-issue friend asking me if I was interested in him. In the 'more than friends' way. He didn't have that air of 'I hope she says YES!' to his voice, so of course I vehemently said, "No' and almost as if on cue, pavlovian-style, I suddenly began planning our wedding. I kept our wedding idea scrapbook a secret and I thought we were plugging along as Balki Bartokomous/Larry Appleton-pals, but then as Emeril says, "Bam!" - I got crazy needy, and he freaked out.
Him : "Hey..."
Me: "Are you mad at me? What's going on? Why are you ignoring me? Am I ugly? How come you never call me anymore? Let's move in together. Do you want to be roommates? I miss you. Let's hang out more often! Let's do couple-things but not be a couple. I'm coming over tonight. Can I cook you dinner? How come you don't want to hang out more? Let's go bowling. Why don't you want to go bowling? Do you like me? Are you mad at me still? Do you hate me? Do you? I think you hate me. Do you?"
Thank you! You've been a wonderful audience. I'll be here all week - enjoy the veal!
So the secret is out. No more cooking him dinner. No more waiting for him to call every evening. So I did what all good broken-hearted girls do. I went shopping.
At the mall, I eyed a 275$ Prada purse, but that was possibly too much therapy. Like buying a Mercedes because you stubbed your toe. Walking past HotDogOnAStick, I realized I was still morose, and that not even retail therapy was making me feel better. I also realized those striped HotDog outfits are kind of kinky.
One friend suggested standard psychologist sit-on-a-couch-and-talk-about-your-parents therapy. "Like a spa for the brain" she says. I've never been to a spa, and even getting a pedicure seems like a luxury worthy of only Paris Hilton. Actually, what I think I need is a cupcake for the brain.
So, no retail therapy. No regular therapy. Blogging therapy it is then. It just makes me feel so secure to blog about how insane I am with my massive insecurities. And really, the bottom result is that I think haughtily, "Well, at least my insecurities were validated." I'm also aware how insane THAT statement is.
So the non-breakup breakup is over. And as they say - it takes you twice as long as you were dating to get over it. That means...oh hey - who is that cute guy sitting over there?