In ninth grade there was a boy, maybe a year younger than me, that liked me and I didn’t like him. He had one of those generic boy names, Ryan, Michael, Sean (what I’m trying to say here is that I don’t remember) He was really annoying, kind of a perv, and, unfortunately, my best friend’s soon-to-be step-cousin. There was no escaping him, most of the times I would come over he would somehow show up and bother us or bother me. One day I had the great plan that if I said yes to him, then the nuisance would stop. We ended up “going out” for a week or two, which consisted of him calling me all the time and me ignoring him anytime I would see him. He must’ve gotten bored or maybe he wasn’t as dumb as I thought and figured me out, because he finally called to break up with me. I got the old “it’s not you, it’s me” story in freaking ninth grade. What did I do? I cried, I mean I balled, I ugly cried. I didn’t really care, but at the same time I couldn’t help it. I believe this was my first “fake cry” as a woman. Just like that he started going out with some other girl he could kiss and fool around with (good old three way calling, it doesn’t always hang up. I got to hear all about the new girl in his next call).
Then there was W. He really liked me and I thought he was dorky in a cute way so of course I went out with him. All we did was make out; we never really talked be it over the phone or when we were together. Our first time together it just fizzled out, actually the second time it fizzled out as well. The worst part about it? He sounded so sorry on the phone telling me how he “cheated” on me, while I was just bored and not saying anything, which he took for me being heartbroken. I figured, let some other girl deal with it, I knew I didn’t want to.
My latest breakup though, this one actually hurts. Not sure why since I was constantly treated like I wasn’t wanted or important. I tried to make the relationship work, putting my time and money into it, but it finally broke. I don’t appreciate being lied to, especially when it’s something I know a lot about, so I’m making a clean break. No phone calls, no “it’s not you it’s me” b.s. It’s over. Things I know a lot about: music, art, photography, designers, food, yarn. Can you guess which is the one I’m referring to now? I’m one lys short, all because of a stupid skein of yarn at the register.
me: this is pretty! what is it?
her: oh, umm, something I’m going to carry, I don’t carry it yet. It’ll be a while!
me: ok, it feels great. what is it?
her: it’s from South Africa
me: ahh, is it be sweet mohair?
her: umm, no it’s not Be Sweet.
me: umm, whatever it is, it’s really gorgeous!
Did I mention this was happening as I was paying for some overpriced needles, also known as addis? What did I do when I went home? Googled the hell out of it and unless there’s some other company from South Africa selling Mohair Magic Balls in a color named “underwater” we can safely say it’s Be Sweet! Why did I feel like I was on Seinfeld? Does anyone remember the Tuscany episode?
So I drink to my latest breakup, wearing the last remnant from the relationship and not a great one at that.