Saturday, December 10, 2005

Beating a dead horse metaphor

Alright, let's do this.

(My new “friend” over at Got Back Together With My Ex The Same Day We Were Supposed to Go Out Depot* is the one in itals.):

1: Erin, thanks for not putting my name on your post. That would have been a bit over the top. I mean, blogs are a great forum, but no one wants to date or consider dating someone who would muckrake them publicly. I am fine with the anonymous muckraking, though. The comments about my email are really funny.

1: At least I can say I’m living up to my education. The first thing they teach you at Medill: “Muckraking is the most honorable form of journalism there is. The only way to make it even more honorable is to use anonymous sources.”

Just kidding. The first thing they teach you at Medill is spelling.

2: Yeah, the wording of that message I sent you was just terrible. No doubt about it. Sorry for using simmer — I don't even think of it as a cooking metaphor, just a way of saying let's put this on hold. Like I would tell one of my guy friends who was bitching about something: "Yo! Simmer down now!"

2: Of course you don’t realize you’re using cooking metaphors. What fun would it be for us girls who are fed (heh) said metaphors on a pretty consistent basis if we couldn’t search for the pattern and giggle when it actually holds up. I have a pretty sizable accumulation of “I don’t know how to tell you I don’t want to date you, so I’m just going to use a cooking metaphor” cooking metaphors, and it’s always kind of fun and exciting to add a new gem to the collection.

Also? “Yo?”

3: No I don't think I am hung like a horse. Or maybe I do think that. Totally irrelevant to the email, and I agree the horse metaphor was pretty lame (ha) in hindsight.

3: Pity. Or… maybe not a pity? I can’t tell. All I know is this: Confidence is key, my little champion steed.

4: It's spelled "Skittish"? Really? I am such a terrible speller. Thank God I live in a world where most forms of writing involve a spell check.

4: Terrible speller, eh? You should have told me that up front; could’ve saved us both a lot of trouble. We never would’ve made it, even if we had gone on a date. (See above re: Medill.)

5: Now let's get to the serious issues. Erin and I met on an online dating site. I thought her picture was breath-taking, so i messaged her.

OK, I know this is mid-point, but A: Thanks for outing me on the dating site business. That’s right kids, even in cyberspace I can’t find a guy who isn’t threepointfive seconds away from reuniting with a long-lost love, or who hasn’t already met the “love of his life”, or who doesn’t own a Confederate flag belt buckle. And B: Does anyone remember that episode of Seinfeld where the Hamptons doctor calls Elaine “breathtaking,” but then proceeds to apply the term to a supposedly hideous baby? Just saying…

A few months before I messaged Erin, I had been broken-up with my x-girlfriend over a couple specific issues. Erin knew I had an x-girlfriend, and I tried to be very upfront about the fact I had gotten out of a serious relationship not long before. My X let me know that she was willing to work out those issues, and I knew I would not be able to give a new relationship my all while I was still wondering about the old one, who I really love.

Erin and I exchanged some wonderful emails and some wonderful IMs. But we never met or talked on the phone. So it's not like either of us really knew what we were missing — we might not have even been attracted to each other. So, to that extent, I think I am less of a jerk, and certainly I did not try to use Erin for some booty or anything. Anyway, Erin's emails and IMs, like her blog posts, were insightful, witty, personable, and just generally a pleasure to read. I thought it would not be too hard to be friends, because we had never been on a date, and we could have gotten off to the right start.

5: Alright. Now we’re getting somewhere. This Pre-Dating Breakup In The Name of Fate thing is my absolute most favorite ploy of all time, and as soon as I get a chance, I am going to use it on some poor unsuspecting guy and it is going to be awesome. He is going to ask me out. I will accept. There will be dinner, drinks, maybe even a movie, none of which I will pay for. At the end of the night, I’m going to say: “I had a great time, but since there’s a pretty good chance we’ll both end up wasting our time on a dead-end relationship, let’s just break up right now. What? We’re not actually dating yet? Well, all the better, sir, because I don’t want to deal with any of that broken heart bullshit later on down the line. So this is it. We’re FINISHED!”

As far as “I’m in love with someone else, but whatta ya say to being friends? Eh? Eh?”: As I said before, it’s a nice idea.
But I’ve agreed to a few of these “friends” deals before and have been sorely shortchanged. So… it’s back to the preemptive strike against time-wasting and hurt feelings for this Just Friends girl.

Oh, hey, but thanks for all that “insightful, witty, personable” yada yada yada… (FYI: In actuality, I’m probably only those things online, and even then only sometimes. At least you can say you caught me on a good day.)

6: If my letter was cheesy, and consequently Erin does think I am a cheese-dick for how lame that "I can't go out on a date right now" email was, then all the better right? I mean, at least this way she won't think I am some great guy she is missing out on.

Ok, if anyone is still reading this thread, I'd be happy to hear how bad I suck, as long as you'll give me the opportunity to defend myself!

— In anonymity, Mr. Ed

6: There you have it folks. Have at ‘im.

But just remember: in my mind it’s all fodder for the book (or extraordinarily long post, as it were). And really, I was simply trying to make the point, the last time I dragged this actually-pretty-decent-seeming young man over the virtual coals, that it’s me who has the issues. The timing issues, the Just Friends Syndrome, that special little twinkle that attracts great guys who have great reasons for not being able to date me.

In the end, it’s not about the poor schmucks who find themselves players in this weird game that I made up, but don’t know the rules or object of. In the end, it’s all about me.

* Might I recommend a gift certificate to this fine establishment to anyone looking for the perfect Christmas gift to give me? I seem to spend a lot of time there and at its more cost-friendly counterpart, Yesterday I Wanted To Break Up With Her, But Today She’s The Love Of My Life Warehouse.