Surely I did once love a boy,
Who thought me no more than a toy,
Or perhaps a passing whim,
He broke my heart so shame on him.
And then one day he did return,
And swore his lesson he did learn,
To take him back I did agree,
He broke my heart so shame on me.
I am writing this blog on the tail end of a particularly unpleasant encounter I had with a female acquaintance on Saturday afternoon. When I consider the relationship I have had with this woman, I think frenemies would be too nice of a word to describe it.
Just to preface this a bit, this woman seems to have volatile relationships with everyone, but has always been especially mean to me. Now, I understand that people like this may have deep seated mental problems, which may evoke sympathy from a bigger person than I. However, unless she is locked up in a mental ward, wearing a strait jacket, I see that as no excuse for the way she has treated me. There are psychiatrists for this sort of thing, after all.
Immediately upon returning home on Saturday afternoon, I did what every other person in the world does when they wish to take passive aggressive action in a situation such as this one. I deleted her from my Facebook.
After waiting a few hours, and not receiving a sorrowful letter from her demanding to know why she had been deleted, and, in fact, not even knowing whether she noticed that her friend counter dropped from 375 to 374, I decided it simply wasn’t enough.
I tried to turn my negative energy in to creative energy by blogging about the incident, but nothing worthwhile was forthcoming. I even had a heart to heart with my mother. But when I woke up on Sunday morning, I was still feeling kind of sore about the whole thing.
That’s when it hit me. There was only one thing left to do. Oh yes, a Strongly Worded Email was in order! Now, of course, I know all about being the bigger person and turning the other cheek and all that. Yet I thought it might just be therapeutic to get the whole thing out of my system. I mean I didn’t have to send the thing, did I?
But oh readers, thanks to my caustic wit, my deep sense of sarcasm, and my carefully honed writing skills, what ended up on my computer was a masterpiece, so subtly scathing, so subliminally insulting, there was just nothing else for it. I had to hit send.
And then readers, I felt so much better.
UNTIL…
Until I realized that I had just sent a not very pleasant email to a certifiable mad woman who is probably, as we speak, writing nasty letters to my employer, defaming my character all over the internet, and quite possibly putting a hit out on my life.
Readers, if you do not hear from me for a couple of days, please call the proper authorities and present them with this blog post haste. I have already taken the liberty of marking it as Exhibit A for your convenience. In the meantime, if a crazy woman shows up at your door inquiring to my whereabouts, you don’t know me, you’ve never seen me, I have fled the country.
This was actually one of the first blogs I wrote and today’s Daily Prompt inspired me to reblog it. (Hope that isn’t cheating.)
Recently, I was inspired by a blog written by new favorite blogger The Office In Betweener ( http://seansmithson.com/). (If you haven’t read his blog you really should). He said he was trying to follow a blog written by a woman who was trying to go on 30 dates by the time she was 30 and blogging about them.
This does seem like an interesting premise for a blog and it made me reflect on the many, many dates I went on when I was younger. However, being on the rock n’ roll dating scene, they weren’t so much dates as a series of glorified booty calls. Still, my experiences prepared me a virtual pupu platter of men which I sampled without the complications of a full on relationship.
The problem, or maybe not the problem, but one of the desired outcomes, is that these relationships often fizzle out rather than coming to an ugly ending in which you tell each other how you really feel. However, sometimes I wish I could tell them what idiots (cute idiots, but idiots nonetheless) they appeared to be at various times. So here I go, vicariously making fools of all of them in open Dear John letters. I will change the names to protect the innocent.
Dear Eddie,
Because you have a mommy complex, because it is not cute to put the adjective ‘Little’ before your name when we all know you are about 5 years older than most of the people in the club, and because 5’2 is definitely too short for a man.
Dear Jamie,
Because I really can’t be with a guy who can’t tear himself away from a mirror, who takes longer to get ready in the morning then I do, who may be gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and if not missed a really good opportunity, and, oh yeah, who has a very obvious nose job.
Dear Marc,
Because you really need to get a car. I simply can’t be driving you home every time after we hook up. Also, the glam heavy metal thing is kind of getting old. I suggest you update your look and seriously look into a day job. You’re really getting a bit long in the tooth for all this.
Dear Tracy,
Because you didn’t take your shirt off when we…you know, but I could still see that your quite overweight. Because you made funny noises when you…you know, and just because you had somewhat of a career back in the 90s, your really not all that.
Dear Kurt,
Because the 90s are calling and they want their dread locks back. Because you blasted rap music at top volume in the car when we were driving home (and not even cool, rock type rap). Because you live way out in the valley and think it’s cool. Because I don’t like the fact that your huge dog sleeps in the bed. And, oh yeah, because you’re a stupid idiot!!
Thanks. I feel much better now!!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/22/daily-prompt-tainted-love/
image credit: http://relationshipplaybook.com/2012/10/breakup/
There are certain realities you need to accept in order to make a relationship work. The first one was passed down to me by my dear old grandmother and I have always thought it to be true: “Men and women are natural enemies”. After 12 years of marriage I think I can embellish on this with my own offering, “All men are stupid and all women are crazy”.
Glorious Results Of A Misspent Youth 