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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