You recently printed a letter in regard to a boyfriend's exes not going away. I hate to admit it, but I have been the creepy cling-on ex who refused to let go. I even went so far as to write the "long-winded, sobby, please-forgive-me"–type letter. God, how humiliating!
Don't get me wrong. This is not an ordinary breakup response for me. Usually it's, "OK, it's over—see ya around" (or, "hope to not see you around" . . . in not-so-nice words). That or I maintain a healthy friendship with the ex that lasts for years and doesn't interfere with either of our love lives.
On the few occasions where I have turned into a psychotic, manic, overly possessive, lunatic ex, there was an underlying theme. And I can't for the life of me figure it out. In each case, the man/boy I was degrading myself over was not in any way worth it.
It wasn't worth it, first off, to degrade myself at all, but to degrade myself for someone who was so completely worthless? Worthless as in, you don't have a job, you live off me, you watch TV all day, you never see the sun, you have no desire to do anything with your life. . . .
It really boggles my mind. How can I be so calm and collected about the end of a relationship with a decent, hardworking man who enjoys life, and yet turn into a psycho wench when a relationship ends with a loser who probably never cared about me to begin with? What the hell?
There is a certain breed of man whose sole purpose on this Earth is to send normally sane ladies completely round the bend. If decades of dating has taught me anything, it's to beware the guy who describes all his exes as "psychos." Now I'm not saying there aren't scores of lunatic broads bobbing around the dating pool; I have no doubt there are. But nor will I discount the fact that their annoying boyfriends probably contributed to the erosion of their sanity.
Here are a couple examples of types I've gone out with who have allegedly only dated the insane:
•the closeted homosexual (he found female genitalia disgusting)
•the junkie/alcoholic (there've been a few of those)
•the musician (aka the chronic cheater)
•the chronically unemployed
Now, seriously—aren't any of these qualities enough to make even the sanest dame a little nuts? Only a foolish gal swallows half a story. Think about it. He says his last girlfriend threw a plate at his head—what a bitch. What if the reality is that dishware went flying only after she walked in on him banging her sister? Makes a bit more sense, doesn't it?
That you get loony when dumped by a loser makes perfect sense. It's an ego thing. When a perfectly nice, sane fella lets you go, you feel bad but reckon he had a valid reason. He's your equal, so there's no giant shift in your sense of self-worth.
But when some mook—who still has his mommy do his laundry because he spends his days smoking pot and downloading porn off the Internet—dumps you, now that's insulting. How dare he? Didn't that jackass realize how lucky he was? You were the best thing that ever happened to that rat bastard! How can he not know this? Why isn't he spiraling down into a dark pit of depression?
The fact is, he doesn't care. He knows he'll eventually find some other sucker to pay for his Extra Value Meal and his life will go on uninterrupted.
Think about it . . . if Orlando Bloom gave you the heave-ho, you'd be upset but happy that you'd had the chance to see him naked in the first place. Whereas if, say, the guy who mops up the spooge at the peep show broke your heart, you'd not only be mortified that you dated him in the first place, but you'd be incensed that he dumped you, when everyone knows it should've been the other way around.
It's humiliating to realize that you have been replaced by PlayStation 2 and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, which is why you become unhinged and start making pathetic phone calls. My advice: Quit dating down.
Need advice? Write Dategirl at firstname.lastname@example.org or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.