The downside of having friends who sometimes read your blog is that you can’t blog about certain real-life events without risking getting kicked out of that social group. I’m going to take that risk anyway and write about this guy I spoke to last Friday. Besides being interesting enough to be blog-worthy, somewhere in here is a valuable lesson that may be useful the next time you go about trying to impress girls (or people in general).
This guy, let’s call him TMF (you’ll realize what the acronym stands for as you read along). He’s a friend of my bandmate who goes to our gigs, though we’ve only exchanged a couple of sentences during those times. One those sentences he threw at me had something to do with how he spent some time in France hanging out with “real” street punks. Right. He piqued my interest, definitely, but only because there was something in the way he spoke, carried himself, and dropped random details about his life that seemed a little…off.
TMF and I got around to having a real conversation on Friday when my bandmate congratulated him on his promotion to COO (chief operating officer).
“COO?” I asked, my eyebrow raised.
“It’s all really hush-hush right now, and I’m sure you’re wondering what a guy like me in a place like this–” This referring to the small artsy-fartsy place we were playing at tonight “–is doing being the COO of a car dealership. You don’t believe me? Come on, I’ll take you to my car and show you my suit.”
Before I could say that that wasn’t really necessary, the bandmate and I were standing outside TMF’s shiny new car. True enough, he did have a black suit crumpled at the back seat, and he put the coat on to dispel any disbeliefs we had about his big corporate job. Disbeliefs that we didn’t have.
“Oooh, big capitalist monkey,” I said.
He must have detected the sarcasm in my voice because as he removed the coat and tossed it back into the car, he went on to tell me about how he had no real choice in the matter. His dad owns the car dealership and if he hadn’t accepted the position, he’d have gotten kicked out of the house.
“I need to eat too, you know,” he explained. “Everyone’s been congratulating me left and right for being such a big success at 23. Truth is, I hate my job and I hate what I’m doing right now. You know what I really want to do? All I really want out of my life is to go to New York, study, and make music. That’s all what I want to do.”
He almost had my sympathy there. Nothing tugs at my heartstrings stronger than people who feel trapped in their jobs and who can’t afford the freedom to do what they want with their lives. Then TMF ruined it by saying something that killed any sympathy I had for him whatsoever.
“Just think of me as a subject from a Virginia Woolf novel.”
Nothing irks me more than people who name-drop in ordinary conversations. Half the time it’s because I don’t know who those people are and what they’ve done to become name-drop fodder. The other half is because the name-dropper does the name-dropping with all the arrogance in the world. The worst part is when I see their eyes go “Aha! So you’re not as smart or as cool as I thought you were.” when I admit to not knowing who they are. Most of the time, I end up playing along because I hate it when people make me feel like I’m stupid.
Oddly enough, the vibe I got from TMF when he name-dropped Virgina Woolf, feminist writers, and indie bands was not one of arrogance. He was going out of his way to impress me or everyone else. I noticed that he was carrying a bunch of books with him throughout the evening, the Belle and Sebastian graphic novel included. Seriously - why would you bring that many books with you to a social event unless you wanted to show how cultured, sensitive, and artistic you are?
I wonder if he would have kept on talking me if I said that I have never read a word of Virgina Woolf in my life.
Over fastfood dinner at KFC, TMF unloaded his girlfriend, family, and life issues (not without making a reference to an obscure indie band every so often) at me, which I honestly didn’t mind. There’s a lot you can learn about life, people, and yourself, just by listening to people talk. The conversation I had with TMF, for instance, made me realize that if there’s one thing I can’t stand - it’s a Male Feminist.
“I think of myself as a male feminist,” TMF said. “I read all these novels by feminist writers and I feel this connection with them, you know? All my life I was bullied by people for being different, and now my parents expect me to be this and that. I can definitely relate to how women feel about being oppressed by society.”
If he had caught me on a bad day, I would have punched him the face for that. Male feminist my ass! Okay, I’m no expert at feminist theory but to me, a guy who says that he’s a male feminist is like a CEO of a big multinational company saying that he’s Marxist because he can “relate” to how hard the factory workers in China has it. Sure, I understand that men may be able to empathize with how women suffer and agree with feminist theories or writers. But secondhand oppression is not the same as experiencing actual oppression. The pressure you feel from your family and the crap you get from society for being different is on an entirely different ballpark from getting your tits groped at age eleven and being stared at like a piece of meat from assholes in the workplace. I don’t care how sensitive and emotionally vulnerable you are. Anyone who is born with a dick between his legs can’t declare himself a feminist and back up that statement by saying that he can “relate” to how women suffer. The only people who know how women suffer are women. Period.
If all that stuff about feminism was supposed to impress me, well, it didn’t.
I kept talking to TMF anyway because if there’s one thing he’s got going for himself, it’s his excellent taste in music. At some point in the evening we were talking about folk music and he offered to let me hear stuff by Leonard Cohen. I agreed, thinking that maybe he had an iPod with him or something. Two minutes later I was in the passenger seat of his car, being serenaded by Leonard Cohen from the CD player as I recalled a story about myself as a kid from my mom. When I was four she attempted, in vain, to teach me how to fend myself from strangers who might want to kidnap me and sell me into a life of sex slavery. “If a man stops you on the street and asks if you’d like to step inside his car and have a kitten, what would you do?” “YES KITTEH PLZ,” was my enthusiastic reply. Dead in seconds. I don’t know how I lived to see my 21st birthday.
After our band’s set, I spotted a friend I haven’t seen in over a year and went off to say hi and catch up with each other. From the corner of my eye I could see TMF trying to grab my attention, but I was too involved in the conversation for my attention to be diverted. Several minutes later, TMF tapped me on the shoulder and said that he had to go.
“Bye, see ya around!” I said cheerfully before turning back to my friend and picking up where we left off.
The look TMF gave me before he walked away said, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to me? No hug? No kiss? No cellphone number and YM name hastily scribbled on a beer-stained paper napkin?”
If this entry made me seem like a total asshole, I’d like to take a moment to defend myself here and say that I’m not. I’m just a normal girl who can’t stand it when people try to bullshit their way into my heart. Now I’m not saying that this guy is a liar - for all I know, he really did spend some time hanging out with “real” punks in France. The point is, when you want to endear yourself to someone - regardless if you want to sleep with her, be in a relationship with her, or simply be her friend - just be. Do not attempt to get close to someone by listing down all the cool things you’ve done or telling her about how oppressed you were by your parents and by society all your life. Even if the latter may be true, these things are simply too intimate to reveal in a first conversation and will only come off as bullshit. Also, people who have done REAL crazy shit in their lives almost never talk about them, even when asked.
Finally, don’t try to impress girls by saying that you can understand their issues because you’re a feminist. TMF was real lucky that I’m too passive-aggressive and non-confrontational to punch him for saying that.
I’m really not sure what compelled me to walk up to my ex when I spotted him at the area where I usually wait for my next class. Maybe it’s because I knew that a confrontation was inevitable (we go to the same school). Maybe it’s because my ex angst is getting old and I’m tired of being angry at him. Maybe it’s because it’s almost Christmas, and at Christmas you tell the truth.
Whatever my reasons were, I tapped on his shoulder and asked for a light. He looked startled to see me standing there, using his lighter while making small talk as though he were an old college classmate instead of the person I loved for two and a half years and an asswipe I loathed for a year up until today.
Of course, my hands were shaking the entire time.
I always imagined that our first conversation after our falling out wouldn’t be so much a conversation as me ripping his throat open with my trimmed fingernails. I had a little speech written in my head that I would rehearse when I had nothing better to occupy my mind with. I imagined that he would walk away before I could even utter a word, or that I’d burst into tears in the middle of talking and I wouldn’t be able to stop because I’d be too overwhelmed with anger, or sadness, or both. But life never works out the way you imagine it would.
The whole conversation went amazingly well. No dramatic scenes, no angry outbursts, nothing of the sort. My anger disappeared like curlicues of cigarette smoke in the wind. As we discussed what we’ve been up to and what went wrong in our relationship, it occurred to me that none of this felt particularly strange. True, making peace with my ex wasn’t exactly at the top of today’s To-Do List (and I must admit I’m still slightly in shock because I always thought I’d hate him forever). But once the moment was there, it was all routine and old habits. Switching into my old speech patterns was almost automatic, and talking to him was a very comfortable feeling that I’ve missed. He is one of those few people who can make every conversation sound like something out of a blockbuster epic trilogy.
Me: I thought you hated me.
Him: How could I hate you for being human?
Me: We lived like demi-gods back then.
Him: I still think I’m a demi-god.
Me: I’ve long accepted the fact that I’m human. And I’m perfectly fine with it.
And before I left for class:
Him: You have one up on me.
Me: Really? What’s that?
Him: You have an unending capacity to feel.
I realized something else too. In life, you will encounter many people. Some are only around for a fun interlude; you’ll barely notice when they come and go. Some of them are worth fighting tooth and nail to keep. Some of them do an unforgivable thing, or a series of unforgivable things, that may or may not scar you for the rest of your life. Most of those people are not worth talking to ever again, but there are some who deserve a second chance. Thou shalt not forget the people who helped shape who you are.
Time can only tell if we’ll be real friends or if we’ll only acknowledge the other’s existence with a wave or a nod. Whatever happens from this point onwards doesn’t really matter much. The important thing is that I can finally put the last three years of my life back in its rightful resting place, without having to worry about revenants when the karmic cycle of life makes random things random happenly.
I’m no stranger to strange coincidences but I got curveballed by one of the strangest coincidences early this week. While I was on my way out the office for a cigarette break Monday morning, Kristel ran into me with arms wide flailing.
“Lauren! Your Asshole Ex’s current girlfriend is right outside the office!”
I was still reeling from the what-the-fuckness of her statement when I found myself getting ushered out the door to greet the Current Girlfriend. Since I didn’t have enough time to prepare myself, I think I walked out with a smile that was a lot wider than I’d like. Somehow, we (the Current Girlfriend, the Ex-Girlfriend, and Kristel, who technically is also the Current Girlfriend’s Ex-Girlfriend - but that’s a twisted story for another time) ended up having a cigarette break together. In a tone that I hope didn’t sound like I was in any way threatened, ruffled, or shocked that she of all people was waiting outside the office door, I asked the Current Girlfriend what she was doing here. The Current Girlfriend then told me that she a) graduated this month, b) needs a job ASAP, c) is applying for a writing position at our company.
Gee, what are the chances of that?
A few hours later, my Project Manager walked into my cubicle and asked me to give a character reference for the Current Girlfriend, seeing as we graduated from the same university. “You can’t be serious!” I sputtered. Unfortunately, he was. See, his asking me to give a character reference for an applicant means that the applicant is a candidate for our team. In the cubicle to my right, I heard Kristel laughing hysterically.
Now, any other Ex-Girlfriend who were in my position would have automatically slandered the Current Girlfriend’s character. But me, I’m nice and I’m fair. So I give her a glowing, non-bullshit recommendation because her horrible taste in men doesn’t change the fact that she’s still a good writer and a friend.
The next day, my Project Manager informed me that the Current Girlfriend is to be our new teammate.
The average Ex-Girlfriend would have defenestrated herself from the fifth floor upon finding out that she’ll be working in the same team with the current girl of a former love. I’m no average Ex-Girlfriend though. I really am cool with the Current Girlfriend and I have absolutely no issues with her. I just want to kill her boyfriend, that’s all.
(Well okay, that and I find it kind of creepy that she has now acquired his mannerisms and speech patterns. It’s like watching a female version of the ex, minus the condescension and the arrogance. Funny how the dead come back to life in perverse reincarnations.)
The thing is, my break-up with the Asshole Ex was quite amicable. We managed to stay really good friends for several weeks and I do feel a bit sorry that our friendship has been replaced by this unsnuffable hatred I have for him. You see, he was ten times nicer to me when we were friends than he ever was while he was my boyfriend. Unfortunately, assholes will always be assholes, and he did a very asshole thing that made me realize two things:
a) my ex is full of shit
b) up until the moment I broke up with him, I spent the last two and a half years of my life allowing him to manipulate me and take over my life
Believe it or not, I’m a very forgiving person. I’m told that I can be frightening when I’m angry, but it doesn’t take me long to get over my anger and forgive the bastard who pissed me off. Some people, unfortunately, do things that I simply can’t forgive. These people are usually sent off to what I call the Realm of Indifference, a place in my selective memory where they’re never given a second thought, except for when I tell stories about the WTF things they did to me. The Asshole Ex, however, is an entirely different case. It’s been a year since I dumped everything he ever gave me in front of his house (with his posse watching the drama unfold because I interrupted their group jerk-off session when I called him to say that I was coming over NOW and you better come out and get your fucking stuff). Until today, the mere mention of his name is enough to make my blood boil.
I hate that I care enough about him to hate him this much.
What’s going to make this whole work situation very awkward for me is this. Assuming that my ex is still the same person, it’s likely that he will stay within the area to wait for the Current Girlfriend to get out from work. I haven’t seen nor spoken to him since the drama outside his house, and I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I run into him unexpectedly. So far, my options are to:
a) get creative with my shoelaces
b) hurl a torrent of verbal abuse at him
c) punch him with my killer deadly girly punch
d) push him into the swimming pool and watch him flail because he can’t swim
I have a feeling that the only way my ex can move on to the Realm of Indifference is if I ever tell him to his face that I hate his fucking guts and that while I don’t regret our relationship, I do regret not breaking up with him sooner. Unfortunately, my ex is an asshole and I bet if I tried to sit him down and talk to him about this, he’d probably walk away mid-sentence. Or raise an eyebrow in the middle of my speech and ask me if I’m done yet. If he even chooses to see me. My ex is big on cutting ties with his past and pretending that his previous girlfriends never existed. Too bad for him that this particular ex-girlfriend is making noise on the intarwebz and will be working with his girlfriend soon.
Chances are, if I do ever get around to talking to him, I’ll just freeze up the way I always do in confrontations and never get to say a fucking word. Then he’ll walk away laughing and tell his friends that his ex-girlfriend is a total psycho. Not that they don’t already think that.
My life sucks.
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