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Predicament of the Week
In which Breakup Girl addresses the situation that has, this week, brought her the most (a) amusement, (b) relief that it is happening to someone else, and/or (c) proof that she could not possibly be making this stuff up.

Dear Breakup Girl,

I'm still feeling lousy about a messy, messy, messy breakup. Still loaded with those pesky what-ifs, still thinking about him way too much, and still wondering if it's possible to get him back somehow. At the beginning of 1999, I was happily dating someone and lazing my way through my sophomore year of college. Then, just after Spring Break: my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and my SO of a year and a half (we'd been talking marriage, and even were taking care of a fish, to see what sort of parents we'd be) dumped me for the leading lady of a play he was in. I got hysterical for a few months, my friends got bored with listening to me, I felt like the world was ending, I even made a truly pathetic suicide attempt. Then, school ended, I moved into my summer apartment (first time living on my own, supporting myself, and holding a full time job), and I was too busy being hungry, sleepy, and occasionally sick to be miserable about my ex. I lost a lot of weight (hoo boy! did I need to!), spent a lot of time getting to know myself again, made some online friends and got back in touch with some older friends, and started feeling human again. Pulled myself up by my bootstraps, you might say.

In the meantime, kind of as a measure of desperation, I'd set up an online personal ad. (I really didn't think I'd meet anyone any other way, chubby and sniffly as I was.) Ad #1 turned up one guy who was a darling and supportive friend but who lived too too far away. Encouraged by having met him, however, I plunked another ad down and was deluged with replies from men with stars in their eyes over the fact that I didn't seem like the "other" gals in those personals (older, defensive about their weight, defensive about their cats). It was nice for my ego, but the few guys I met in person were either sleazy (as in the fellow who worked his way into my apartment by saying he really needed to go to the bathroom, and then plunked himself on the couch and wouldn't leave, then put on some mood music, then stuck his tongue down my throat, and then was politely shown the door) or uninteresting, or homely.

So, with my ego nicely put back together, I was about ready to get rid of the ad, when I got a very long reply to my ad from a guy who had the sort of smartass sense of humor I treasure. I replied to his message in an incredible amount of detail, just to see how badly I could intimidate him. Oddly, he wasn't intimidated. Soon, every day I could expect a good half hour of reading material and a good hour of writing material, and some good laughs. He was charming and nerdy and silly and we had absurd things in common, and we clicked.

The budding relationship moved to IRL within three weeks: our first date was on the fourth of July. (Aww.) Over the next four weeks, we went out on periodic dates and he was adorably shy and kinda weird-looking but cute and I fell head over heels. The rest of the summer was a blur of long car rides, cute field trips, bad movies, precious moments, staying up all night, going to concerts, etc. I was walking on air.

Then, school started, and we were off to our colleges, his an hour and a half away from mine. At first, he'd drive out to see me one week, I'd take the bus out to see him the next. I loved being cozy and couple-y, getting to know his friends and his cat, leaving an extra razor and an extra toothbrush in his apartment, watching his band practice, waking up together in the morning.

The bumps in the road started small. I wanted to see him more frequently than he wanted to see me, he prattled about "space," and fretted that I didn't seem to like his friends (I liked some of them, but I didn't like the party atmosphere or macho attitude when they were all together, and I didn't like going out and getting drunk every weekend. He took this, however, as simply not liking his friends, and he has a very tight social group.) Conflicts started; he withdrew from me. By November, we couldn't talk without fighting. He dumped me just after Thanksgiving break (incidentally, two days after my fish-- same fish-- died, and the day before it was announced that my dad was starting chemo).

I didn't go nuts this time, but I couldn't seem to convince myself that it was really over. I figured he'd change his mind. He didn't. I called him and begged he didn't. I threatened that I'd be forced to never talk to him or see him again and hate him forever he was pretty sad about that but said hat he was sick of fighting and didn't feel the same about me anymore. That was the last time I talked to him. I waited a month. I hoped. I e-mailed. (Twice.) No response. I stopped hoping-- a little.

See, I can't stop thinking about him. Because I'd never felt quite the way I did about him before, not even with the guy who I'd been thinking marriage with! I saw stability and constant support with Boy #1. I saw Grand Romance and True Love with Boy #2. And up until the relationship went long distance, everything was spiffy.

I would put my continuing misery down to the continuing general dreariness of life (my dad is still very ill, and his case is considered terminal, family finances have gone down the drain since his retirement, I'm still rebuilding my social life since my last breakup, I'm worrying about my classes, general seasonal depression, the fact that my previous ex is still blissfully in love with his theater girl-- when does karma kick in, if ever?), but for some reason I can't help but continue thinking about my summer boy. Since pride and general common sense have kept me from trying to contact him again, I'm reduced to imagining running into him at concerts and checking his band's Website to see what's up in his life.

Mostly, now, I find myself missing telling him things (every time something funny or interesting happens, it kills me to not be able to write), feeling weird about listening to the music he introduced me to (music is has always been pretty central in my life), doing stuff I know would impress him (admittedly, stuff I was always planning on doing anyway-- getting a radio show, learning how to play the guitar, getting tickets to see a band we were originally supposed to see together), and so on. I can't seem to shift my focus away from my long-lost love, and I hate it.

It's not as though my life is devoid of male attention, so that doesn't seem to be the problem. I've flirted with a few people, had an icky hookup for New Year's Eve, have met plenty of new people, some of whom seem interested in me and at least one of whom I'm interested in. But no one quite compares, and I'm not sure why.

I mean, I can look realistically at my ex, in many ways: he's what most people might call an eccentric loser, and weird lookin', too. He's in his second senior year of college, drinks too much (he seems able to control it now, but alcoholism does run in his family), cares about nothing so much as his very lousy band (he sings he shouldn't), and he's passed up decent jobs because it would require taking out his earrings and letting his hair go back to its natural color. He wasn't terribly affectionate, seldom complimented me, never said "I love you," and had general guy-type communication problems.

Yet, I compare better-looking guys, I compare people whom I have a decent rapport with, I compare people who have jobs and lives and just generally seem to have their lives together, and I say, "Naah." For better or for worse, he inspired me, and I can't imagine being inspired that way by anyone else, and I can't stand being separated from someone who made me feel that way. (Nor do I like being separated from his apartment, his cat, his friends, his car, his cozy flannel shirts, his neato blue guitar-- matches his hair-- good loud music, his crappy band, the book I lent him and never got back, the socks I left in his room, and so on.) At this point, I'd be happy enough to be friends (although I don't think I could handle seeing him) I just miss his influence and presence in my life.

So, my questions would be:

1) D'you think Mr. Bitterness will warm up one of these days and think about starting over? Presumably, if and when he graduates, he'll be back in the city or the general area, which would remove, essentially, the one great big difficulty which made everything go wrong. I just hate that everything about him is gone, not just the love part.
2) If Mr. Bitterness keeps right on being Mr. Bitterness, off into the horizon, how do I get over him, short of falling in love with some other new Mr. Bitterness, which doesn't seem like it's going to happen anytime soon?

--Punk Rock Girl

Dear Punk Rock Girl,

I am truly sorry about your dad, your breakup, and your fish too.

That was pretty cute about the fish, actually. (And, yes, it will be helpful practice if your children actually are fish.)

Also: did everyone see how well PRG handled the foibles of personals? She let even the clunkers buoy her ego, not zap it. Right on.

Now, about your blue-haired babe. Why does no one compare? Well, I could get all psychology on you and suss out some Needs of yours that he's fulfilling, yadda yadda, but hell, sometimes people just hook you. I mean, I knew you were hooked when you thought the fourth of July was romantic. This guy just got under your skin…and for many good reasons. Hey, it's love: who's to say?

And why is he still so indelible? PRG, when you list the legit miseries in your life and then say "but for some reason I can't stop thinking about him" … well, I think you're putting the karma before the horse. I dare say that we'e it not for all those sucky things, you'd be clinging less in the first place. He bailed at a time when you didn't have much backup. You say: "I wonder why I'm stuck." I say: no wonder you're stuck.

All of the other stuff you describe -- the dying to e-mail him, the musical triggers -- PRG, that is so Classic Breakup, I can't even tell you (though I can thank you for capturing it so poignantly). That is: this is not [necessarily] A Problem; this is your brain on breakups.

For now, though you've done well not to contact him, I'd go cold turkey on the triggers, too. Don't listen to "his" music; set up some sort of Parental Controls on his website.

Still, over time, I hope you will think of all the things he gave you as … things he gave you, not things you've lost. When I broke up with L.L. Bean, I lost my ski babe, but I still had … skiing. It sucks when they leave, but giving you that kind of stuff is what is what boy/girlfriends are for. Grit your teeth and try, eventually, to see it that way.

Also, think "bootstraps." How'd you do the yanking before? How did you push yourself to pull yourself up? Try to re-muster that will, that feeling -- as motivator, try to remember what it felt like once you were back up. (Hint: pretty good.) Part of the process will be, I think, making sure you have someone to talk to -- friends and/or a pro -- about your dad, trying to distract yourself from the breakup residue by focusing on your classes (rather than invoking it as the "reason" that you're slacking). Are there other activity-type things you've been meaning to get involved in?

Maybe even get a new pet to love (something between a fish and a cat).

And finally, remember my inspirational speech/elaborate IMPORTANT BREAKUP GIRL MAXIM about moving on: does moving on mean you never think of that person, or that it doesn't sting when you do? Hardly. (Heck, I happened to hear one song this morning that, ten years later -- even though I am certifiably over the person with whom it was "our" -- still makes me tear up.) It means that there may always be a little piece of that person stuck on your back, in that place you can't reach. But it's on your back, not in your way.

So, um, no, PRG, I don't think he'll be back. But you will.

Love,
Breakup Girl

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