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Dear Breakup Girl,

I'm a total mess. I am not a martyr, I'm not a victim, I am a disaster waiting to happen. I have developed some real issues with the whole dating thing and I don't want anyone else (particularly anyone nice) to get caught in the crossfire of the mess my life has become.

Up until about April, I did the serial monogamy thing for about seven years. Some times were better than others. For the most part, I was pretty good at the girlfriend thing and my shortest relationship was six months. I had some bad experiences and some good ones. I fell head over heels in love with a wonderful man who I truthfully still love. In a matter of days it will be a year since we've broken up completely and it's been a few months since I've seen/talked to him. So anyway, in April I ended my last real relationship and began dating (Brady style). I thought it would be fun and it would certainly be a new experience since I had been attached to someone for so long.

So as time went on, my dread of the next outing grew as did my dread of being noticed/spoken to by the opposite sex. I don't know how many times I had to go through the "this isn't working out" talk. For a while I thought I had bad luck and then one day someone asked me why I continued to go out with guys I didn't like. The only response I could think of was "that's all there is." So after a few more dates and mulling over that question, I began to study my dates and my own behavior. I had come to the conclusion that there couldn't possibly be that much wrong with the last dozen or so men and it must be me. Well, I went out a couple more times. I made the most sincere effort to overcome my recurring nausea at the idea of this perfectly nice guy looking at or touching me (the horror!). I seemed to have developed an inherent mistrust in anything that actually asked me out. I dreaded dates and men giving me that look (you know the one) or trying to hold my hand or something like that just made my skin crawl. In a matter of a couple of months, dating had taken me back to grade school when all boys were icky and cooties were a very real threat. The anomaly in all this, is that not all men invoke this violently negative reaction. Only the date guys. The guys who don't make my skin crawl are friends that I hang out with, married, taken or all of the above.

So here I am. I have my friends, my life is exceptionally busy; the dating thing is now a non-issue since I wear a wedding ring and if anyone still asks, I politely tell them that I quit dating. I don't want to risk going out with someone who might be decent since I have deemed that an act of cruelty.

So a few months back, close to the same time that I was bringing this whole dating thing to a close, I started hanging out with Mr. Married whom I work with. No big deal, just friends, etc. Untiläyou knew it was comingäwell, let's just say things moved a bit beyond friendship. So now I guess we're involved but not in the boyfriend/girlfriend, expectations, serious sense. Why is it that the only men who can look at/touch/kiss me without giving me the creeps are a really bad idea? Yes, there was one other that was also taken (though not married) and yes, I work with him too, but that's all past and forgotten. So now on to the real issueä

I have several male friends whom I have no other involvement with and they don't give me the creeps either. I am very worried, though, about one of these male friends -- we'll call him Mr. Wonderful. We've been friends for quite some time and the idea of romance has never been brought up. However, I went out with him last night and as we were watching a movie at my place and he sort of picked up my hand and was looking at my ring. No big deal, right? Then he didn't let go for a while and it occurred to me that I just might have seen a more-than-friends expression on his face for a moment a couple of weeks ago. Am I making something out of nothing here? Perhaps he didn't mean anything by it, but what if he did? The last thing I need is for Mr. Wonderful to start to LIKElike me. Oh, the guilt. This guy is so out of my league and I'm not sure any more if he knows that. I don't want anything to screw up our friendship and I don't want it go any further than that, because I'm sure I'd just mess things up like always and this guy really deserves better.

I know it sounds a little bit twisted, but I feel a lot less guilt over Mr. Married than I would over Mr. Wonderful. After all Mr. Married is cheating on his wife and therefore really doesn't deserve better than me, and it's good for me because he really can't make any demands because just where would he get off. I know you'll probably say that I deserve better than all this, but let me assure you that I really don't. Please help.

--Where Are We Going and Why are We in this Handbasket?

Dear Handbasket,

Oh, sweetie. If I may mix my metaphors, here's the writing on the walls of the corner you've painted yourself into: "I'm a bad person and that's that, so you can't help me. Please help. Signed, Unhelpably Bad Person. PS Please help." Heck, call it a circular corner. Symbolized by that wedding ring you wear like Wonder Woman's protective bracelets... though yours seems to only get you into more trouble. Circle, again.

Over to you, Belleruth. "Wow, the I-suck factor is pretty intense here. Fortunately -- yes, this is good news -- you're uncomfortable enough with this situation that you actually might be inspired to get yourself into the kind of good ol'-fashioned psychodynamic-style therapy (yep, the 'How did you feel about your ma and pa, and how did they feel about each other?' kind of shrinkery) that I think could really help you. Keep in mind, though, that the really uncomfortable part -- at first -- will be giving up your own 'I'm bad, and that's that' diagnosis."

Right on. I know it looks really, really scary to jump blindly out of that handbasket. But you can repaint the whole world when and where you land.

Love,
Belleruth and Breakup Girl

PS: Belleruth adds: "I'm also curious about women friends ... do you have any?" Could help with balance.

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