Being Dumped. Chances are, if you've dated, you've experienced it. And unless you're a masochist, you don't like it.
I'm not a masochist.
I've been on both sides of the dumping often enough. Despite the sheer awkwardness of dumping someone, which I always thought was worse than people gave it credit for, I'd still rather be the dumper than the dumpee. If you're lucky enough to have been on the easy side of the dumping more often than not, anyone who's ever been dumped can tell you, one time is still too many. Even when a relationship is falling apart around you, even if you can see the asteroid hurtling toward you and you've already put on your Anti-Fiery Cataclysm Jacket (TM), it still sucks with the force of a black hole.
I've dated more than my share of emotionally stunted jackasses, which explains the reason for the dumper/dumpee imbalance. But I've always have a soft spot for Nice Guys. And no one can break your heart like a truly nice guy. Here's why:
1. Nice Guys want to let you down easy. They say things like, "You're too good for me" or "I have to get my act together before I'm ready for a relationship." Nice Guys dump you because they're insecure, or they have issues with commitment, or because you scare the crap out of them. They go to great pains to make sure you know it's Not Your Fault. Nice Guys don't want to you to blame yourself, so they hold your hand and tell you how beautiful you are, and how they don't deserve you. Then they bail.
2. Nice Guys don't want to hurt you. They obsess over everything they've (theoretically) done to displease you and blame themselves any time you feel unhappy. Nice Guys are so afraid of failing you that they set themselves up to fail. They think you deserve something close to Perfection and, since it's impossible, they give up. They hurt you because they're afraid of hurting you. They justify this to themselves because...
3. Nice Guys assume you'll be Okay. You're strong. You're loved. They didn't make you happy anyway. You're better off without them. And, worst of all, you'll Find Someone Else.
4. Nice Guys don't understand irony. They dump you because they want you "to be happy." They honestly think that the best way for them to address their Intimacy Issues is to break up with you and start seeing a therapist.
5. They want to Be Friends. This is the worst of all, the way they expect you to maintain cordiality, to still come to birthday parties and family functions, to smile and maintain polite conversation in the presence of other people. They post on your Facebook wall, share funny stories, and message you to ask How You Are. They Offer To Help. They thank you for Being In Their Life.
The reason it hurts is because you have no reason to be angry. Anger is energizing. It gives you the pep you need to Move On. It helps you to remember that you deserve better. But when a guy is so kind, so complimentary, so Interested In Your Well-Being, you don't have any way to mask the rejection. Because, in the end, Nice Guys (despite their sincere best efforts) remind you better than anything else in life that you just weren't good enough.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
February is out to get me
Easter is early this year, which of course means that Lent came early as well. Like many people of faith, I look forward to Lent with both positive anticipation and a little bit of dread. Lent is, after all, about giving up things. It's a reminder of your frailty, of how much you can live without, a pledge to discipline. Lent isn't about resolutions or self-improvement, but about deliberately choosing a form of poverty, of recognizing the impoverishment of the spirit. Lent is a reminder of your dependence on God.
This year, I gave up coffee. I gave it a lot of consideration, asking myself repeatedly if I really wanted to put my coworkers through that. I decided I did.
The thing about giving up coffee is that it's difficult. A Lenten discipline should be difficult, should be something you think about often, should disrupt your daily life enough to serve as a reminder of your place in the universe (hint: it's not in the center). It's a fundamental attitude shift I take on: When others jokingly remind me of how good their cappuccinos taste, or when someone ignorantly offers me a cup of coffee, or when I go to the coffeehouse for free Wi-Fi and I drink tea...it's a reminder, and I feel gratitude for the reminder.
Lent is about giving things up, and giving up coffee was hard.
Little did I know I would be giving up so much more. (Cue dramatic music.)
At the beginning of February, I had an accident at work. No details are necessary, other than it wasn't my fault. I hurt, a lot, and have reached the end of my tolerance for the painkillers. I've lost a good bit of flexibility and most of the strength in my dominant hand. This has made it impossible for me to perform the very physical job I had, the promotion I had worked so hard to get, and of course is a setback to my career advancement.
I can't knit.
My alimony has ended, and I can't pay all my bills. To add insult to injury, the small raise I received last year has made me ineligible for Category A Medicaid, and I now have to pay a portion of my son's routine medical bills. So, my financial insecurity has deepened.
I've lost time, due to doctor's visits and physical therapy. It wouldn't seem like much, but 4-5 hours of appointments a week are a real time suck.
I also had the flu this month, which resulted in more time off of work (without pay).
My boyfriend and I broke up. That's a huge loss.
I've even lost my dignity. While groggy and numb from hydrocodone, I scratched a big gash across my forehead. It's a beauty, let me tell you.
I'm really hoping this is a February thing. February's a short month, just a week left. But I'm afraid it's a Lent thing. It feels like a Lent thing. I'm just having a hard time feeling grateful about it.
This year, I gave up coffee. I gave it a lot of consideration, asking myself repeatedly if I really wanted to put my coworkers through that. I decided I did.
The thing about giving up coffee is that it's difficult. A Lenten discipline should be difficult, should be something you think about often, should disrupt your daily life enough to serve as a reminder of your place in the universe (hint: it's not in the center). It's a fundamental attitude shift I take on: When others jokingly remind me of how good their cappuccinos taste, or when someone ignorantly offers me a cup of coffee, or when I go to the coffeehouse for free Wi-Fi and I drink tea...it's a reminder, and I feel gratitude for the reminder.
Lent is about giving things up, and giving up coffee was hard.
Little did I know I would be giving up so much more. (Cue dramatic music.)
At the beginning of February, I had an accident at work. No details are necessary, other than it wasn't my fault. I hurt, a lot, and have reached the end of my tolerance for the painkillers. I've lost a good bit of flexibility and most of the strength in my dominant hand. This has made it impossible for me to perform the very physical job I had, the promotion I had worked so hard to get, and of course is a setback to my career advancement.
I can't knit.
My alimony has ended, and I can't pay all my bills. To add insult to injury, the small raise I received last year has made me ineligible for Category A Medicaid, and I now have to pay a portion of my son's routine medical bills. So, my financial insecurity has deepened.
I've lost time, due to doctor's visits and physical therapy. It wouldn't seem like much, but 4-5 hours of appointments a week are a real time suck.
I also had the flu this month, which resulted in more time off of work (without pay).
My boyfriend and I broke up. That's a huge loss.
I've even lost my dignity. While groggy and numb from hydrocodone, I scratched a big gash across my forehead. It's a beauty, let me tell you.
I'm really hoping this is a February thing. February's a short month, just a week left. But I'm afraid it's a Lent thing. It feels like a Lent thing. I'm just having a hard time feeling grateful about it.
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