Double trouble on December 14, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

My boss and I have this incredible chemistry between us. We get along so well, and he has many of the qualities I would look for in a man. However he is married (and my boss!). Lately, he makes a lot of comments about me, like jokingly, but like he is trying to see how I feel about him. Recently, he invited me out for Happy Hour Friday after work and told me that he’d like to spend more time with me, but can’t ask me to do things because his wife is jealous of me. (And I met his wife only once!) We haven’t spoken of any related issues since that night. He also said that night at the bar, that if he weren’t my boss and weren’t married he would like to get involved with me. But it’s almost as if he said that to see if I would accept those conditions, almost proposing an affair to me (my gut level feeling). I told him, “in some other dimension” we could get involved but not like this. We haven’t spoken about that night/conversation since then, but he constantly talks to me at work and I catch him looking at me often. I know the right thing to do is to NOT get involved, yet we are so attracted to one another. HELP!

— Meg

Dear Meg,

Three words: DON’T GO THERE. Fourth dimension? Not even there.

Attraction? Fine. Doesn’t mean you need to act on it. Two words: window shopping.

Incredible chemistry with your boss? Great. Then you’ll be an excellent employee. Right?

But if the chem has crossed the line from inspiration to distraction, then one word: transfer.

For a situation this complicated, it really is that simple.

Love,
Breakup Girl

A poetic Predicament from December 14, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I want to share with you the recent story of a fellow heartache fighter. Let’s call her Compass Rose.

This wandering knightess-errant (for she doesn’t yet aspire to superheroine status) found herself quite stuck in the land of LDR Limbo. Caught with nonrefundable plane tickets for two separate trips, she struggled valiantly against the demons of Insomnia and Inappetence using Exercise, a weapon of choice. Email and the telephone were of no avail in freeing her from her condition. Weeks later, a few pounds lighter, and more sleep-deprived than usual, Compass Rose reached the hour of her first plane ticket.

She equipped herself with a little optimism, phrase books and travel guides, and clothes contained for overhead storage space. Her Quest for Closure, or, at least, An Answer, had begun.

Her crusade led her to a fabulous country where she doesn’t speak the language but feels a fascination and comfort. Immediately, our heroine was confronted with a change in attitude and behavior from the Object of Affection (OA). Stressed and jet lagged, she decided to pick her battles wisely and wait for a more opportune moment. Instinct told her that the dreaded beast, JF (as in Just Friends), was afoot. Rage and panic overtook Compass Rose. Her head filled with escape plans and thoughts of Thanksgiving turkey with the family. When the beast manifest itself fully her first night, sleep came in short supply.

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Trippin’ on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I have had a crush on this particular girl for a while now. She and I seem very compatible with our similar personalities. Secondly, she’s downright beautiful. Both of those put her way out of my league or at least I thought… Our school had a eduactional trip to our state’s capital for some kind of business conference. She wanted to sit with me on the bus ride there. I didn’t think much of it, I just thought she was being nice. But, late into the trip, the heater on the bus broke and I offered to share my coat with her, using it as a blanket. She agreed, and for another 10 miles or so, she was cuddled against me for a while, and then with no provocation from me, she slides her hand down my leg and rests it above my knee. I’m thinking, “What the heck?” So I slowly put my hand atop hers and she doesn’t move away. We stayed pretty much like that through the first day, being affectionate all the time, and at one point she was running her foot up and down my leg. So I knew she had to like me, and just wasn’t playing around.

Day two, I find out a horrible thing… she has a boyfriend back home. I was nervous all day, and she must have been reminded by one of her friends that saw us flirting that she still had a man back home, because she started distancing herself from me from then on. By the day we were to come home, she was acting like nothing ever happened. Two days later, (today) I finally have enough nerve built up to ask her what the whole deal was. And the only answer I get is “I don’t know, it sucks doesn’t it?”

How can anybody be so cruel? I told her, tears in my eyes, that I didn’t care if she had 10 boyfriends, because I really liked her, and if there was ever a time when she didn’t have a boyfriend, I would be there. She just fell silent, and then said, “We can be friends.” Sweet Lord, Breakup Girl, is love dead? I’m just so torn-up now I don’t know what to do.

— Genji

Oh, Genji,

No, sweetie, love is not dead. It’s just that that was not love in the first place. That was Bus Lust.

If the following at all polishes the mean, vindictive corner of your hurt, I promise you that Miss Blanket Excuse probably doesn’t feel much better about herself than you do. I know she’s cavalier on the outside, but I betcha she feels like a Bad Girlfriend and also a Mean Person for putting tears in your eyes. And it’s probably not the first time she’s felt that way.

So Genji, if there is ever a time when she doesn’t have a boyfriend — which may, in fact, be soon — I want you to hang out and wait for the next bus. Okay?

Love,
Breakup Girl

Something missing on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I hate to need your help — but I can’t admit this to my friends, and I’m beginning to struggle. Okay.

My boyfriend is perfect.

And I don’t care.

Well, it’s not that I don’t care — I do! I think he’s the best! It’s been almost three months (and you’d be so proud, we’ve been going oh-so-slow. I’m 32, he’s 39 and we’ve both been burned before, so there is a certain degree of caution on both sides), and we really *like* each other. And I don’t mean in the like as opposed to love sense, but in the genuine affection sense. It’s kind of scary. This could actually happen, for real, BG. This could *work.*

We’re both really busy at work, so we only see each other on the weekend, but then our dates last for like, ten hours! We talk, we hang out, we go hiking and biking — it’s great. And he *talks* to me! And actually listens, too! And he thinks the same and he’s funny and he works really hard and he loves his dog. And he thinks the absolute world of me.

But.

But I don’t feel like ripping his clothes off. He’s cute, too! And when I close my eyes and he kisses me (and one evening when we’d both had a teensy too much to drink and were silly . . . that was pretty good) … Oh, BG, I’m just a mess. He’s handed me his ego on a silver platter, and I am terrified of hurting him. And I just feel like he deserves *more*. Like a woman that wants to rip his clothes off, maybe.

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Ghosts of boyfriends past visiting on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I feel as though I’m experiencing a sitcom “inner dialogue/fantasy sequence”…it’s so cliche as to be deeply disturbing. I’ve been broken up since February and just recently started dating again…er, and venturing into nakedness with other men…

The problem is I keep thinking of my ex during all “intimate” activities. It’s so distracting that can’t enjoy myself and I feel terribly impolite (even though the guy I’m with has no idea). This has really never happened before. How can I make this ghostly bedfellow disappear??

— Clare

Dear Clare,

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: when you sleep with someone, you sleep with everyone else you’ve slept with.

I mean, you can toss their stuff off the balcony, but the muscle-memory of sex and intimacy will stay much more firmly lodged under your skin. Which means that to some degree — when you get naked with someone new — that ghostly presence in your pores is normal. And thus that to some degree, letting him be — rather than distracting yourself by trying to shove him from your mind — is what will help fade him out.

Also, make sure you actually like these naked boys. ‘Cause that ghost guy might also be Banquo. Wondering: “What are you thinking!?”

Love,
Breakup Girl

Measuring up on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I am a 17 year-old male. Please please please let me know what you think about penis size. Does size matter? You can laugh at me, make jokes, anything, but please let us know your thoughts on this. Please.

— Shain

Dear Shain,

Breakup Mom, didn’t you leave something on the stove?

Still, I’m going to play it safe and quote someone else on this one. In this month’s issue of P.O.V., Sheri De Borchgrave writes: “Yes, size does matter. Now get over it. Most guys are just right, i.e. average. They measure in at a proud five or six inches with a 1.25 inch diameter. But remember, a poorly handled weapon [note: BG does not endorse this word choice] of any size is useless. Size does matter, but so does good technique… Your mission: go forth and find the right fit, and stop obsessing about the size of your manhood. Men have hatched this absurd collective paranoia. Remember: in the end, what [women, or whomever your partners] really care about is not how big you are, but how big your desire is to satisfy us.”

BG’s finesse: it’s not that your partner will be unsatisfied if you are small (“small”). It’s that your partner will be unsatisfied if you act small.

This is information you will use when you are ready, in like, four years, right, Shain?

Love,
Breakup Girl

Regretting it on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

Firstly… you rock.

Secondly, I’m kind of a wreck, so I seek your counsel, once again, for a little perspective on my breakup nine months ago. To recap: I’m 29. Me and “John” broke up four times during the four and a half years that we dated, first he with me, then me with him…etc. Every time we got back together it was always because we tried to be friends, and then one thing led to another–you get the idea. We would keep our reconciliations from our friends for as long as possible because we knew they wouldn’t understand. Well, actually, it was mostly my friends who wouldn’t understand because they always felt that John perhaps wasn’t the best man for me, even though they all really loved him a lot, and thought he was a great guy.

When we finally broke up for the last time, it was my decision. We were in the midst of a secret reconciliation, but this time I was really sure that it was not what I wanted at all, but I didn’t know how to stop the cycle. I went to a party, got together with a guy there (with John asleep in my bed at home), and that basically started the whole ball rolling…I told John a few days later that I was going to go on a date–we had decided that we could still date other people, a theory that had yet to be tested–and he obviously became very upset. OK, I told him on his birthday…but you really can’t plan the timing of events like this, right? I went on the date, the date spent the night, John “stopped by” my house the next morning at 6:00 a.m. and proceeded to scare the living daylights out of me/date by banging on the windows, calling incessantly, trying the door, and waiting for us as we came out the front door.

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Making things right on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I am in a very complicated situation involving my ex-girlfriend. We are both college students; I’m 20 and a junior, she’s 19 and a sophomore. We were dating for about a year and a half and monogamous for about a year or so. I broke up with her six weeks ago for many reasons, but mainly because I felt unwanted and unappreciated… I had almost always treated her with love, respect and dignity and felt that she was not reciprocating. In the cases in which I made a mistake, I always attempted to understand her concerns and apologize when appropriate. Although I initiated the break-up, it was not something I wanted to do; I felt compelled by the situation to save my self-esteem.

About a week after we broke up, I found out that she was pregnant. I went to be with her for the ensuing abortion which was obviously exceptionally difficult for both of us.

A few days after the abortion, I heard about some things that had happened in that week. My ex had tried to hook up with a friend of mine two days after we broke up and had hooked up with three other guys in a short period of time. This hurt me intensely… she was my first love, and I hers; I thought it unbelievable that she would treat my feelings for her in such a disrespectful manner. We have tried to talk about things the past few weeks, but about 10 days ago I finally blew up. She was trying to have it both ways… the alternative experiences that she thought she needed with other guys combined with my support and romance. I basically told her to get out of my life because she was being so unfair and cruel to me. She has never apologized for trying to hook up with my friend, and she continues to maintain that she loves me even though she needs these other experiences. I cannot understand that, and it was that insistence of her love for me that drove me over the edge. It felt like she was completely playing with me.

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Trouble trusting on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I have been involved for a year and a half with a very gentle, caring man who I feel is trustworthy. However, I cannot seem to give up relentlessly accusing him of seeing other women. I know this is a contradiction. I do feel he is trustworthy, but I believe that I am experiencing a case of paranoia–as my past partners have been anything but trustworthy. Perhaps, I have recently taken a blow to my ego as of late, and my insecurities are surfacing in this relationship–but I honestly cannot figure out why I have been questioning my partner to the point of him wanting to give up. I have done damage to this relationship through this, and he is sick and tired of arguing–as am I. I want to repair the damage, but I seem to be unable to keep my mouth shut.

— Big Red

Dear Big Red,

We’re thinking you should open up that mouth to a therapist. Cause here’s what Belleruth says: “Your insight into the situation is admirable, but, evidently, not sufficient. Yours could be one of those self-fulfilling prophecy deals, where you create what you’re most scared of — i.e. rejection — out of perverse self-destructiveness. But if you get some help, you’ll have more control over your testing behavior and wayward mouth.” Here’s hoping that it’ll start saying things like, “I trust you.” Or, better yet, that things like “I trust you” will go without saying.

Love,
BR/BG

Re: Gifting on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

Okay, un petit dilemma. It being the festive, gift-giving season and all, I thought you might be able to help with a somewhat topical question: What do you do about boyfriends who give lame presents?

Let me elaborate:

I love my boyfriend dearly. We have our ups and downs, but on the whole things are great. We’ve been together over three years.

Just one itty bitty li’l problem surfaced — it was my birthday. Now, my boyfriend used to give utterly lame presents for birthdays and Christmas, but he’s been steadily improving. This year, I got a pair of garnet earrings for my birthday — doubly great when he’d sworn never to buy me jewelry until I agreed to get engaged to him (whole ‘nother story).

The problem is that he thinks he was being really thoughtful and sweet and getting me something great. I already have one pair of garnet earrings — with nicer stones, even — and I never wear those. He just didn’t think, I guess. (He also helped his folks pick out a present for me, which was a dismal book I have no interest in reading, and really isn’t “me” at all.)

Trouble is, he gets all enthusiastic about stuff and thinks “Wow, that’s so great, must buy that for my girl!” without stopping to think whether or not I need or want it, or would even like it. The garnet earrings would not have been cheap, either, and it pains me to see him spending so much money on a present which, let’s face it, fails to hit the mark.

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