Tuesday, February 9, 2010

"Heartbreak Warfare"

Red wine and ambien/ you're talking shit again.
Good to know it's all a game/ disappointment has a name.

--John Mayer

I think everyone pretty well knows I'm not a John Mayer fan but I couldn't help but laugh when my Emergency Backup Straight texted over these lyrics at bedtime -- fully knowing he would make me chuckle. He's on sleep-watch, but his shift is not tonight. Since I hadn't slept with anybody regularly in about 20 years (and now I remember why I never liked it in the first place), there is now a weaning schedule underway. I get very Rainman when my routines get disrupted, and it takes me awhile to re-set them.

That's not to say I never had boyfriends in the past 20 years, I had plenty -- I just rarely, rarely let them stay over. About 2 a.m. I turned into that pushy bartender everybody hates,  "everybody OUT! Ya don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

Last night and tonight was assigned to one of my college classmates. When I told my old roommate about it this morning, she was like "Holy COW... you're using him for weaning?! He is hot!" She went on at some length about how tall and funny and articulate he is -- quite the catch, I'd agree -- but really, all I could see was the donuts. I haven't faked it with him though. I was very clear as to which of his utilitarian values I was most interested in: transport. Transport of donuts. She said, "Man, I didn't even call you cause I thought you'd be curled up in bed with all communications devices turned off and a Sex and the City marathon on HBO."

Sure, that is one very valid way to recover from heartbreak. I have simply chosen...a different path.

I had to explain to myself as much as to her, that it really isn't 1994 anymore. The weather most definitely had something to do with all the forced cabin fever bonding that went with that relationship -- now? everybody has four wheel drive, and we all come and go as we please. In 1994, I took to my bed; in 2010, I turned to the Pank and the BlackBerry, and used them to summon forth subjects to the Bed and re-pave some new Rainman ruts for myself. It's a pretty good system. Press releases were issued; statements were released. Facebook groups were formed.

My backup straight teases me mercilessly, "you got dumped the week BEFORE Valentines Day? I thought you were nice to him? What the hell did you do?" To which there might be many nuanced answers filled with sensitivity, every one of which can be summarized by, "he's just not that into me." Yeah, there were other women, but this one time, I'd say, they were really kinda beside the point.

I'm afraid I must disagree with Loretta Lynn when she says, "You ain't woman enough to take my man..."  If my man can be taken, trust me, you are more than welcome to him. Good luck. God bless. If he thinks he can better-deal me, hope it works out.

My poor backup straight was stuck with me all weekend Drinking for Charity when it really was raining men and I was turning down cards and phone numbers right and left, so you can see why he thinks it's all a little funny. Apparently, he caught the writing on that wall weeks ago, just from the blog, and what minimal interaction he'd had with the Ex. To say the least, he was not optimistic. I think his exact words were "That guy? Seriously? I don't see it." No one did. And if I was very honest, I didn't either. It made no sense at all.

So, when somebody tells you they're having a "nice time," don't assume words have failed them. Instead, believe it. And acknowledge it is NOT a rave review. I'd hate to try to get  elected on an endorsement like that. The one thing that unequivocally interests me in a man is his ability to find me totally, completely, and endlessly fascinating, and of course, I have to feel the same about him.

But if you're trying to be "entertaining" at half time -- dusting off all your old sword swallowing tricks from the beauty pageant days, and the desultory review, upon questioning, is an anemic sigh followed by, "ohhhh, I can get  through it," trust that you are not bringing your A-Game. 

When people are into you, you know they're into you.
And when they're not.... they get real, real vague. And you hear a lotta "nice" and "fine" and "been busy."

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