It was a time when I got back into the dating game by treating it as just that: Flings happened and were then flung aside; only a few lasted longer than it takes me to get through a season of "How I Met Your Mother" on Netflix. There was Young Patrick, the year-old Congressional staffer for whom "selfish in bed" doesn't even begin to do justice: Andy, the father of two who came in like a wrecking ball of neediness and misplaced ideas of what courtship post-divorce is supposed to look like.
Also, who actually used the word "courtship": Then, "Bruce" quotes to protect the somewhat innocent: Bro-tastic to the extreme, who thought it appropriate to tell me we didn't need to use condoms because we're white: What these men and others had in common was something I didn't immediately realize was a "I dont want to hook up with him anymore" of pride for me, which is that I dumped every one of their asses.
But last spring, three months into another casual hooking-up scenario, I was summarily flung by a guy my friends referred to not unaffectionately as "DJ. Things were winding down anyway. I realized that despite both being cute, smart and liberal, we had absolutely no conversational chemistry.
After politely explaining that he wanted to try a relationship with someone with whom he saw a future and that, while fun, I wasn't that person, I could only smile and say, "Don't worry about it! Thank you for being honest. Let's be friendly but not friends. About 20 minutes and one hug later, I had my WTF? I had just been dumped and I didn't like that one bit. Egos are powerful things that can make an otherwise confident person lash out, as evidenced by the bratty gchat rants and texts I proceeded to send my friends about the situation.
Some were sympathetic; most just reminded me that I knew it was coming. I'm thankful that only my friends saw that side of me.
And after a day of reflection, I was pleased that, as far as he was concerned, I was the Queen of Chillness. The relief on his face that I wasn't throwing my fourth margarita at him is something I still feel good about. At the risk of tooting our respective horns, DJ and I were following a pretty stellar list of breakup do's and don'ts without even realizing it.
By actually respecting each other, we turned something that rom-com wisdom tells us is worthy of endless pints of ice cream and tissues into This prompted me to consider why, if conceivably every relationship we have is going to end save for the one that lasts foreverare people including me so angry when it happens? Why are we so wrapped up in being everything to someone we likely don't want anything permanent from anyway?