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Predicament of the Week
In which Breakup Girl addresses the situation that has, this
week, brought her the most (a) amusement, (b) relief that it is happening to
someone else, and/or (c) proof that she could not possibly be making this stuff
up.
Brad VI
Readers will recall that Brad's original predicament
vaulted into Of the Week status the moment he recounted that the girl who wanted
to hang out, hold hands, snuggle -- and just be friends -- went so far
as to bake him a cake. (Thus serving up, for Brad, immense confusion,
and for Breakup Girl, a veritable dessert tray of metaphors.). A
week later, the frosting thickened, and our man B. got in trouble for being
nice-guy-shoulder/pastry-chef -- not, say, Boyfriend -- for the women
he desired. His unrequited cookie-baking had begun to take a toll-house on his
will to love. Then Brad came back for BG-record-setting thirds,
prompting a rather sugar-free response. And then, in a Denoument thus dubbed
"Have Your Cake and Eat It IV The Last Time"Brad
tested -- and shared-- a new recipe for romance! Most recently, he rounded
out the millennium by trading in the baked good for the bon mot.
And now, our Bard, I mean Brad, is back. Again. Post-poetry, out of the loft.
And in love.
There's just one problem.
Dear Breakup Girl,
Yeah, it's me again -- Brad.
The old Loftbuilder himself. But things have changed since the last time I've
written you; I haven't built any lofts in months. That's right, I'm no longer
a loftbuilder. I've been loft-free for a while, and it feels good. I've tried
to get friends to stop building lofts, but...well, that's what led to my current
predicament. First, a bit of background: I now have self-esteem.
I also have an ego. I'm in sales now, and you really can't be in sales without
a serious amount of self-esteem bordering on delusion. I'm happy to say that
my self-esteem doesn't border on delusional; I realize that I'm an intelligent,
funny, kind, caring guy whom any girl would be lucky to have. And I'm not just
saying that. I've said it in the past without meaning it. I actually MEAN it
now. I FEEL it. I got into sales because something in me snapped when the last
girl broke my heart, and I decided to change my life. I got out of my dead-end
job and got into a job where I could make some more money. It wasn't sales,
but I knew that if I did well, I'd be in sales in no time. Six months later,
they moved me from customer service into sales, where I promptly stunned them
with my remarkable ability to make them serious money selling computers. The
rest is history. Self-esteem came quickly afterwards.
Now for the ceasing of the loft-building. My love life was stagnant
for months because I didn't want it to be otherwise. I didn't get out and meet
people; I didn't try to create anything with my friends; I just focused on myself.
But I promised myself that when a girl who interested me came along, well, I
wouldn't build any lofts for her. In the meantime, one of my best friends, who
is exactly like I was at his age (he's 18; I'm 21) proceeded to build
a loft for a girl he was interested in. I tried to warn him against it, but
he wouldn't listen to me, and he built more and more lofts for her. I've never
seen a guy build more lofts for a girl. Well, except for me.
Needless to say, she just wanted to be his friend. He was upset,
of course. But in the meantime, he made a mistake. He introduced me to her.
Apparently something about me struck her, because she wanted
to see me again and again after that initial meeting. A group of people was
getting together to go out to dinner one night, and I happened to drop by on
my way somewhere else. She begged me to go with them for half an hour, just
to talk to her. I finally agreed, and we talked. As I left, she asked for my
phone number. She called me the next day. We talked more and more. She flirted
with me a lot.
Understand this: my friend and I have the same taste in girls.
We've had crushes on the same girls in the past. He began to realize what was
happening, and he didn't fight it. Yeah, that's right, I began to fall for her.
By this time, he knew that he had no chance with her. He told me that if I ever
had the chance to date her, well, that he wanted me to take it. I suddenly realized
what I'd been doing -- I'd been turning down every chance to build a loft that
she'd thrown at me, and suddenly I was in a very, very strange position. I was
in a position to date this girl.
At least, that's how it seems. Here's the good news -- she's smart,
funny, creative, shares my own strange sense of humor, is sarcastic, cynical,
loves the same music and books that I do (she's read Carl Hiassen books -- WHO
has read CARL HIASSEN books besides ME?), is terrible at math, loves to write,
cannot dance to save her life, and is incredibly beautiful to the point that
wherever we go, guys openly stare at her.
She makes me smile, makes me feel very comfortable, and I can sit and talk to
her for hours about nothing in particular. Her parents love me, something that
is very rare -- her parents hate every guy she brings home. Except for me and
my friend. She also thinks that I'm cute, something very rare, especially for
someone as beautiful as she. She goes on and on about how beautiful my eyes
are. I can't get enough of it. I am everything that she says she wants in a
boyfriend, and she's told me what kind of girlfriend she would like to be --
the same exact kind of girlfriend I've been searching for years now.
"What's the problem, then?" you're screaming. Well,
as I said, I'm 21. She's not. She's 16. Ugh. Huge age
difference.
Now she's gone to Pennsylvania for two weeks, and I let her go
without telling her how I felt about her. I didn't want to leave things out
in the open for two weeks. I want to sit her down when she gets back and tell
her everything I'm feeling. I want to sing "Miracle" by Vertical
Horizon to her. I want to wrap my arms around her and not let go. She makes
me happier than anyone has in years.
Should I let the age difference matter? And how should I go about
telling her how I feel? She's not really given me any indication, except for
a couple of incredibly subtle flirtations and comments, that she might be interested
in me. No matter what happens, I want to keep her as a friend. Should I risk
my friendship with her by telling her how I feel? My heart screams, "YES!" more
loudly than it's ever screamed anything in my life before. I have my friend's
blessing. What do you think, BG?
-- Brad
Dear Brad!
Oh.
That's the problem.
Okay. First let me say Yay. Loved your sales
pitch for self-esteem; thrilled to hear you've put away the hammer/sifter. And
tickled to death that you now know that there are girls who will gladly hang
out with you without your having to do so much work (as in odd jobs,
of art, etc.). Whom you click with. Whom you dig, and who dig you back.
Now let me say what I hate to say
(brace yourself, o poet, for the rhyme that's on its way): Nay. Oh, Brad,
I'm so sorry. I'll bet she's ultra cool and mature and superb and smells sweet
as a Hiassenth. Honestly. But Brad.
She. Is. 16.
It's*. The. Law.
I'm sure your intentions are nothing but
gentlemanly, but let's just say it bears mentioning.
Also think of the Law of Age Difference.
Due to a blip in the space-time continuum, the five years between 16 and 21
are actually longer than those between, oh, 29 and 34. (There's also a cusp
at 25.) Think about all that happens in
those intervening years. I mean, college?! I know how connected you feel
right now, but you two are in two "different places," on two tectonic
plates that will only drift more as you spend more time. And in two different
places when your friends all go out somewhere where they card.
Please understand that none of this is to
say I think you're some kind of Sick
Puppy. This situation makes complete sense to me. Look what happened: you
don't lift a finger/level/cookie sheet, and this cool girl is all over you!
All by herself. You talk, not in verse. You click. She looks up to you -- past
your shoulder. You -- finally -- get to
feel and be all that and a bag of Big Man chips.
Yes, indeed. She is the kind of girlfriend
you've been searching for all these years. The kind of girlfriend. Now
you know this kind of girl exists. And now -- especially given all the "progress"
you have demonstrated -- there's no reason whatsoever to believe you
can't find the same kind of girl...in your peer group. Eating raw cookie dough,
building some sort of dry wall, and then picking up the phone to call you.
Love,
Breakup Girl
* Probably. Depending on where you live.
But you get the idea.
NEXT LETTER:
"I'm embarrassed to admit we met on the 'net!"