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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,

Love, love, love the column. You're the best thing to happen to relationships since long-stemmed red roses.

My story is part inspirational tale (for all the other deserving-of-happiness-lovelorn-types who write in), and part desperate plea for help. Good stuff first:

I fell in love with Dreamboat a good seven years (!) ago. We went to school together, and he was one of those fantastically alluring, aloof loner types -- the ones who don't talk to that many people, not because they're stuck up, but because they really are cooler than just about everyone. Plus, he was heart-tuggingly cute and obviously totally unaware of it...sigh. So after three years of obsession, I actually managed to work up a little bit of a friendship, and I finally confessed to him over coffee that I'd had a giant crush on him since approximately the early days of grunge. His response? "Oh, well, I liked you, too. A lot."

But, d'oh! We were on our way to different states within a few months, plus he had said, "I liked you," instead of, "I like you," so I kind of chalked it up to "mighta-been," and moved on.

We stayed in touch, though, and actually built up a really close friendship (closer than we had ever been when we lived in the same place). He became my very best confidante, one of the few people I could always talk to about anything that was bothering me without having him grab the spotlight and yank it back over to him. I also learned a lot about him as a person (likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams, embarrassing junior high stories,) and discovered that he was even more wonderful in person than he was as my imaginary boyfriend. And, of course, he was still cute.

We would hang out whenever we were in the same state, and there was always that little "damn, damn, damn!" twinge of regret whenever I saw him, but I had decided that since the mutual crush was a running joke between us now, nothing was ever going to happen. So I dated other people and complained about them to him. He did the same.

Well, you know where this is going or it wouldn't be an inspirational tale. Not too long ago, we did the thing straight out of a movie thing where you're talking and talking and then you lapse into silence and gaze into each other's eyes and mmmwwwhhh, it's like you've just invented this great new thing called "kissing." And now we're together, and it's without exaggeration the greatest thing ever in the whole history of the world. Greater than Dr. Pepper. So the morals of this happy tale are: (1) Don't give up! Even if you think you've missed your chance, life may hand you another one. (2)Wonderful things happen when you least expect them. (3)"Friends first" is the best way to go. At least, if you've been nurturing a mutual crush for seven years.

The end? Ha! Hardly. I'm far too neurotic to accept the fact that my life has taken a turn for the dreamy. You see, BG, most of my relationships have ended pretty badly. I get hurt a lot, and those who hurt me seem to favor a certain heavily-scarring tactic of professing undying love and admiration until I start to feel the same. Then, when I'm in good and deep and figure everything's swell, I'm blindsided with a sudden, "This isn't working out. Toodles." So this Grand Passion I'm feeling now has the most potential to wound of any romantic entanglement I've ever been a part of.

The New Girlfriend level is really enjoying the fact that New Boyfriend is indescribably sweet, considerate, romantic, etc. The Good Pal level already knows that this is a wonderful person whom she likes and respects. And the Shrieking Adolescent With Long-Term Crush level can't stop going "Eeeeeee! I can't believe he likes me!!! What should I wear?" In short, this is all too good to be true, and that's what I'm afraid of. This is somewhat akin, to Edward Norton calling up and asking if I want to go play some Skee-Ball. I can't believe it's real.

So now I'm so hopelessly neurotic around him. I'm uptight and self-critical and always afraid of saying the "one wrong thing" that's going to precipitate the sudden change of heart I've seen so many times. Plus, there's still the teenager with the crush in me who thinks this guy is cool personified, and desperately wants to impress him. And finally, if I screw this up, I haven't just lost another a-hole boyfriend -- I've lost a great friend.

BG, he knows me, he likes me. He's a good person who won't hurt me. So why do I spend hours after every phone call thinking back over what I said and smacking myself on the forehead with the heel of my hand and yelling, "Stupid! Stupid! Should not have said that"? How, oh goddess of Relationship Wisdom, can I relax and be inspired by my own inspirational tale? Thanks much and keep up the good work.

-- Neurotically Ever After

Dear Neurotically Ever After,

Ooh! Wowee!!! Love him!

Wasn't he divine in "Everyone Says I Love You?"

Oh, that Ed Norton. Also, your boyfriend sounds totally excellent. Your letter is brilliant, your tale inspirational indeed.

So why can't you settle down and enjoy it all?

Because this love thing, much like Skee-Ball, is rigged. We finally find a catch, we think: "What's the catch?!" He says, "You're Ms. Right!" -- you say, "Where have I gone wrong?" That, more often than not, is What We Do.

Even more to the point, it strikes me as What You Do. Look back at how you describe those "scars." Everyone says I love you, as it were, and you fall, and then they split. No doubt whatsoever that this sucks -- and smarts -- hugely, and I wish you hadn't had to go through it. But with all due respect (which is a lot), it's not that unique. That's kinda...what happens. I'm sure, if anything, you'd like a few more dumpER marks in your column, but still. There's a little bonus drama in there, is all. And of course, this the Grandest Passion stands to cause the gravest wounds. Like, of course.

So of course you're freaking out. But how can you shush the voices? Well, sorta by accepting that that's what they are. Voices. Perhaps you could spend as much time as you spend saying "I can't believe it's real!" reminding yourself that they, truly, aren't. They're reflexes. So, to the bestest of your ability, you should thank your Inner...Everyone for sharing. And that's that. You hear them yammering, but you don't really listen. (I call it "Far Side" Listening. You know, when all you hear is, "Blah blah blah Ginger, blah blah blah.")

Believe it or not, NEA, this is the fun part. Mostly, the kind of fun it's supposed to be. Far too many people write to me hunched under the weight of a blah blah blah relationship, like those surly carnies who hand over the balls at the Fun!!!-O-Rama!!!!! You're giddy. Go with it.

Love,
Breakup Girl

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