An international incident from October 26, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I’m a 28 year-old single woman with a house, a garden, a couple cars, a PowerMac — the whole nine yards. At long last, I can finally say I’m as happy as I imagine clams must be, what with that handy calciferous shell and all. I mean, sure, I’d like a guy to bum around this wacky planet with, but it’s no big deal. For real.

Anyhow, around the first of the year I met this guy (he’s 31) from another continent on the Internet. I knew he was far, far away, so I didn’t take it seriously at all. But Around-the-World Boy had other emotional ideas, and I got a little swept along. After about four months he decided he wanted to come visit me. It seemed like a zany, romantic adventure and I was really looking forward to it — but he bailed at the last minute, saying he “didn’t feel the same all of a sudden.” For the first time in my life I heeded those big, red bells clanging away in my head, cut my losses right there, and told him I didn’t think we ought to write anymore. A teary, sorta embarrassed (I mean I met him on the *Internet*…) call to mom, a pint of coffee Haagen-Dazs, and a couple margaritas with the gals later I was already starting to forget it.

Flash forward a couple of months, and what should arrive but some mail from ATWB saying he’d been thinking about me. So I replied in a just-friendly kind of way, and we’ve been writing to each other a few times a month ever since. In the meantime, I’d made arrangements to use my frequent flier miles for a free overseas vacation. Since ATWB and I had once discussed meeting in the country I’m going to (I’ve wanted to go there for years), I debated not telling him that I was going because I didn’t want him to think it has something to do with him, which it honestly does not.

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Hopelessly devoted on June 15, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

Well, I have been reading your column regularly for a few months (since January, actually) when my boyfriend of one year and I broke up. It was good as far as breakups go… well, I guess, it was my first real relationship (I am now seventeen, he eighteen). We had a wonderful relationship, he was never less than all I could hope for in a sweetheart, first love, and best friend, we loved each other truly, and he never gave me a moment’s anxiety about my decision to not have sex until marriage, in fact that was one of his favorite things about me. It ended on good terms and mutually when we decided that it was not necessary to be so serious at this age, (we both imagined marrying each other, and still do) and we wanted to give ourselves and each other more space and freedom. I’ve written two letters to you since all this, since it has been a rather up-and-down past few months in the love/guy department! (more…)

MSN.com, Match.com, HappenMagazine.com: they’re in a healthy and satisfying 3-way relationship. Meaning that you’ll find MSN/Match.com’s “Ask Lynn” columns –penned by BG’s alter ego — over at Happen now as well.

This week Lynn advises Maybe Not So Mature? who can’t stop thinking about her fling with a younger man.

I cannot stop thinking about him. It’s driving me nuts! This is not what I need because I am finally ready to date after being divorced over a year and dating losers for six months. I feel weak for sitting and hoping that he calls.

Is she putting too much emphasis on this dalliance and should she feel bad about that? See if you agree with Lynn’s advice, then come back here to comment!

Going balmy on February 16, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I dated this guy over the summer and fell in love with him. He was real nice, sweet, and caring and I didn’t think I would lose him, but I did. Ever since then I’ve felt empty and just use guys as some kind of toy to play with. I know I’ve hurt a couple of people and I feel bad about it, but I can’t help it. I still love that guy but I don’t know if he still likes me, should I keep chasing him or should I stop. And how do I quit treating guys like a toy to play with?

— Samantha

Dear Samantha,

If there were such a thing as Breakup Girl Laboratories, they would be hard at work on the Boyfriend Patch. Available in fashion colors and Hello, Kitty designs, the Patch would, in the absence of an actual or particular pined-after boyfriend, provide the fix-of-the-quickie that we so often crave.

In the meantime, though, I will tell you that toy-boys are much like Carmex lip balm and the alleged conspiracy behind it. The idea being that your lips are chapped, you apply Carmex, they feel better momentarily… but… “Mulder, are you suggesting that Carmex itself actually makes your lips feel chapped again.?

You see where Breakup Girl is going with this. You feel empty, you mess around, you feel better momentarily … but … the fling itself actually makes you feel emptier. It serves not as a statsfying replacement for your summer Mulder, but as an acute reminder that you don’t have him.

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Here, your newest installment of Ask Lynn, the advice column penned by BG’s alter ego, now appearing on the spanking-new Lifestyle channel at MSN.com (and powered by Match.com). This week, we meet Maybe Not So Mature?, who’s doing a little morning-after quarterbacking after a hot and — well, not that heavy one-night stand.

“I knew this was nothing but a fling,” she laments, noting that he’s four years younger (maybe not a huge mathematical difference, but it gives him a whole different digit in the tens place) and that they have nothing in common except that neither lives in the other’s state. “[But] I cannot stop thinking about him. It’s driving me nuts! This is not what I need because I am finally ready to date after being divorced over a year and dating losers for six months. I feel weak for sitting and hoping that he calls. What should I do?”

Other than be stoked that girlfriend’s still got it? Not a whole lot! See what else Lynn has to say, and then come back here to comment!

When is a rebound not a rebound? When there’s a rematch with Miss Fling…

/

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Obsessing on November 23, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I’m a very lucky 35 year old guy. Married six months to a wonderful woman (she’s 33). M and I are compatible in all ways, and enjoy each other’s company immensely. We’re from the same small town, went through school together, pleasant friendship, both left town to go to different universities, different lives, different cities, no contact.

M called me out of the blue four years ago. She’s in promotions, I’m in TV, she had a pitch. Pitch failed, met for dinner. I was happily married (I thought) with two kids. Pleasant dinner, promised to keep in touch. Neither did. Two years ago, another call, another pitch. Pitch failed, met for dinner. I was six months single, with two kids living with me Monday to Friday, and weekends with their Mom. M and I agreed to keep in touch. This time, both did. Rapidly progressed to constant companions. Joined at the mind, hip, and soul. Dated eight months, she moved in, assumed and accepted stepmother role, got married six months after that. Very happy.

So what’s the problem? Her past lovers. When we went through that (normal?) stage of discussing/revealing our sexual pasts, she lied about a couple of partners. We discussed it again. And she lied again. We talked about it again, and she lied again. And then again. It complicates matters further that four of her old flames (two serious, two flings) are still in her circle of friends. (A terrific row, by the way, over inviting Mr. Significantly Serious to our wedding. I gave in.) Anyway, this whole issue bothers me to the point of obsessing. (I should say that we have each had 20 + partners, which strikes me as a lot. Is it?)

We have talked and talked and talked about this issue, sometimes heatedly, but always with the intention of understanding each other, and trying to deal with it. Yes, I know that the past cannot be changed. And that I have no right whatsoever to question or criticize decisions she made years and years ago, and I also understand that I have made her feel persecuted at times, and resentful of an attitude that has been, yes, at times, judgmental. It would be easy to explain my feelings as 1) inadequacies (Were they bigger than me? More stamina? More satisfying?) or 2) chauvinistic (good girls don’t -­ except with me). I suppose there is some truth to both.

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Mr. Perfect’s coming home on November 23, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl

Found your site when I had just broken up with a guy I dated for 7 years and it gave me some good laughs along with some good advice, so thank you…

Now I’ve gotten myself into this really weird situation and I’m not quite sure how to get out of it…or if I want to get out of it. After this breakup, I was feeling pretty down in general amd wound up taking comfort in the arms of this incredible guy…we had a little bit of a summer fling…which was actually great, my self esteem got a boost (this boy is beautiful) and I had a great time…then he went back to school (he’s 22, has one semester left at an almost Ivy League school, will be done in December and back in town, I’m 24, working in a big city, real life kinda crap).

Here’s the kicker — I’ve known Mr. Perfect for about 10 years…he happens to be my best friend’s little brother…and we chose not to let my friend in on this little fling because we weren’t sure how she’d react…in fact, our parents are friends with each other, and they have no idea either.

So we had this summer fling, that even had a little snag in it when I went up to visit my friend at their family’s summer house and the three of us spent the entire weekend together and we continued to hide the whole thing…well, we just stayed away from each other…then when we got back, we decided we shouldn’t continue the fling because it was too weird (he’s almost like MY little brother –we used to beat each other up…it was weird for him to look at his sister and difficult for me to look his mother in the eye, considering what I was thinking about her son…).

Well, that lasted about a week, until we went out to lunch and scrapped the idea of staying away from each other…it’s just too much fun…that was in August.

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Changing his tune on November 23, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

Hmm. Wow. This is weird. I never thought I’d actually be writing to you–I mean, like, ever, in a million years. It’s nothing personal–I think it’s just one of those male ego/”of course I know where I’m going, that farmhouse over there looks just like all the others we keep passing at regular 10 minute intervals because we’re in Nebraska–or is it Kansas?–for God’s sake”/”I don’t need your help, I can quit anytime” kinda things. Plus, it’s been quite a long time since I’ve needed any chick-type advice because . . . well, it’s been too long since I’ve, um, been in any kind of position to need any chick-type advice (which, of course, I will elaborate upon further when I’m done with my really long greeting-paragraph-type-thing). So, anyway, commencing with long-formulaic-breakup-girl- “help-me-help-me-I’m-in-such- utter-despair-and-inner-turmoil” letter version 1.0 . . . or .01 . . . or something like that. . . .

You rock. Your column rocks. Your Mom rocks, your dog rocks, your car rocks, etc. etc. (I mean it all sincerely, but I know you get that stuff all the time, and hearing it from me probably won’t send you up to cloud nine or anything–if, on the other hand, it *does*, then, well, I went ahead and said it).

Allow me to quickly tell you about myself (trust me, it’s all relevant–really, it is). I’m a 19 and a half (yes, I count “and-a-half”s) (okay, I’m going to stop it with these parentheses thingies or I’ll never get this letter written) year-old college student. And I’m a transfer student–I’m from down South, went way up North for a year, enjoyed myself, money and stuff like that didn’t quite work out, came back down South to an in-state school and am doing fine. I’m also–okay, prepare yourself–shy. But unlike a lot of shy people, including those among my friends and most of those who have written letters to you, I’m not really embarrassed about my shyness. In fact, I’ve kind of learned to accept it and to be comfortable with it. Maybe this is a little difficult to explain, or maybe I’m just deluding myself or something, but I figure that the world needs shy people just as much as, if not more than, it needs those who are outgoing; were it not for reclusive, creative people, we’d still be living in caves, wearing fig leaves, and competing with the sabertooth tiger next door for our dinner–nothing would ever get done and we’d all be fighting each other and confused all the time. And to me, shyness isn’t a form of “social phobia”; it’s just another way to be, not something that I need to change, something I need to overcome, or something of which I need to be cured. Besides, as Ralph Ellison so succinctly put it, “I yam what I yam.”

But, that said–how, then, does an introvert get along in such an indelibly extroverted society, especially in matters of the heart, without waning completely Invisible?

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Confused on November 9, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

OK, let me put this in chronological order. I’ve had a few pretty rotten relationships in my past that lasted about 4-5 years. They were basically filling in for my absent father and were pretty lousy all the way around. Then I grew up and got more particular and thought I was bonding to a better type of man. I met my S2BX when I first started grad school six years ago. I should have gone with my first impression, which was that he was an emotional leech that would just put me through an emotional ringer. But after I met him and looked into his eyes I was hooked. I did the whole “get hot and flushed” thing whenever he walked into the room. Anyway, I can accept now that we were really more or less using each other and that it would never last, and that was OK, but at the time I was sure he was my soul mate.

However, the way he chose to end it was very painful. I think it was pretty unnecessary for him to use expressions like “If I’d known who you really were I never would have married you,” and “Maybe it’s just your fate to be second best.” You see, when he went back home for a visit which I hoped would save our marriage he ended up having some bodacious fling with an old flame. Which he finally told me about 3 months later, just when I thought things were finally going to go well, and he admitted to it right in the middle of sex. Go figure. Now I realize that he said those hurtful things primarily for his own sense of closure, so that it would have to end, but he really devastated me and my self image that way.

Anyway, the real problem is this. After a few months of suicidal thoughts every single day I decided to give myself something to look forward to, to try out life again before I totally gave up. I went and visited friends again, I started writing stories again, and I decided to try dating. My S2BX and I had been completely separated for six months, and basically separating for at least 9 months. Soooo, just for fun I started looking at internet personal adds. I live in a small town and finding acceptable dates has been…um…interesting. For a few weeks it was fun, just looking around and seeing what guys said about themselves. Then I found one that didn’t make me laugh. So I wrote to him.

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