Trying to be friends with an ex is a special kind of hell…

I think one of the craziest things about the breakup with Grant is that in a matter of three days he went from being someone I confided everything in, to someone I wasn’t even facebook friends with. During the breakup Grant had said he wanted to stay friends, which seemed absurd considering while he was speaking I was imagining my own episode of Dateline;
“And why on the same day that Grant disappeared had Becca bought a shovel? She claims it was a coincidence, she had simply decided to take up gardening. But it was well known that Becca hated the outdoors unless it involved a patio and vodka. Her alibi was falling apart…”
I couldn’t imagine phoning him to chat about work and pretend like I was ok with everything that had happened. So I said no to being friends… well, technically I said a lot of profanities that added up to “no”.

Right after the breakup with Grant, I was trying to rationalize everything (because breakups always make perfect sense). I needed to figure out what I could have done wrong, so I phoned the one person I knew would tell me. I phoned Parker. I know it seems weird to go to your old-ex and ask how to get your new-ex back, and it was. It was super weird.

My life is not a romantic comedy. If it were, this story would end with Parker and his British accent riding in on a white horse, and us riding off into the sun together. It would be perfect, except I’m terrified of horses and I’m really pale, so the sun is my sworn enemy.
Parker was great to talk about the breakup with because he wasn’t nice about it. He gave me the kick in the ass I needed (not literally, just to be clear, no violence occurred). He reminded me that I’m more Rihanna than June Cleaver, and what Grant considered my weaknesses are actually my strengths. Most importantly, he told me to stop feeling sorry for myself… then he drove off in his white car into the night, alone.

My relationship and friendship with Grant is done, much like this bottle of Prosecco I just drank… But I hope he’s doing well (just not as well as I am) and I hope he’s happy (just not as happy as I am) and I hope he finds someone really nice one day (that’s a lie, I hope she’s insane and writes about him on the internet…).

 

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I’m trying to avoid music that reminds me of my Ex, so I mostly listen to Hasidic Jewish songs and the occasional banjo anthem now.

As I move on from the disaster that I affectionately refer to as ‘my last relationship’ (which I know seems harsh, but you wouldn’t call the Titanic a ‘lovely cruise’ just because the beginning was good.) I do so with all the grace of a baby deer learning to walk. I’ve had a few ups and downs with sporadic crying followed by a solid hour of female empowerment music, but I’ve mostly evened out now.
The only trick is to avoid things that remind me of him, which is much more difficult than I imagined. I am one of those people that forever attaches meaning and significances to useless things. When I dated that guy Brent 2 years ago we had a joke about pineapples, I just sent him a picture of a crystal pineapple a few days ago because it reminded me of him. Two years later and pineapples still remind me of a man who never came close to meaning what Grant did to me.

From the beginning I knew Grant was different than the other guys I dated, so I started keeping silly things from dates. I’m not saying I’m a hoarder, but I’m not not a hoarder. I’m not Grey Gardens level yet, but you know, another 30 years, some scarves and a lot of cats and I can probably get there.
I’ve had to collect the things I was saving and put them all in one place so that I can stop seeing them around. For Christmas Grant gave me a custom made version of my favourite book that has been hollowed out so you’re able to store things in it. My favourite book is The Great Gatsby – if you haven’t read it, it’s a wonderful love story that ends in abandonment and murder.

Things I’m packing up that remind me of Grant
1. The book he lent me after on our first date
2. The picture of the egg I accidentally smashed on his counter after proclaiming I make “the best eggs”
3. A tab from a beer can on our first date and napkin ring from a restaurant on our first trip together
4. A ticket stub from a hockey game and our winning raffle ticket from a charity event we attended
5. A t-shirt I wore the first time we made pizza together and he made fun of me endlessly for that says “Mikey’s Friends” across it
There is one thing I took during the breakup that won’t fit in the book and I can’t stand to look at. I took the pizza oven I bought him, with my exact words being “I’m taking the pizza oven, and I want you to know I’m never going to use it, I’m taking it out of spite because you don’t deserve to have crispy crusts.”

There are also a few things I left at his place that will remind him of me until he gets rid of them too.
1. My poncho and sombrero that I wear while preparing Mexican food (apologies for any cultural insensitivity)
2. My ice cream (which I hope he cried into while eating)
3. The pizza slicer (because I totally forgot and would have taken it out of spite too)
4. Strands of my hair (because I shed more than a cat)

When a guy is saying he’s a ‘nice guy’, I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself of this supposed fact…

You know when you’re sitting enjoying a soda at the diner, and a 6’2” good looking, all-American guy walks up to you and says he wants to take you out for dinner and movie? He shows up at your house with flowers and chocolates, and you have your cardigan tied around your shoulders in case it gets a bit chilly later… oh wait… that was 1945.
It seems that a large amount of men have chosen to ‘swipe left’ when it comes to effort and even getting up the energy to go on a date anymore. And I’m looking to blame you Tinder. I’m not saying that Tinder and I never had a thing, but I’m saying it’s taken an already dire situation and made it worse. Laziness and entitlement have joined forces to somehow make it ok for men to approach women, who are perfect strangers, and proposition them for sex. I know this has sort of always gone on, but it’s now gone main stream.
I give you my weekend and the lovely pick-up lines that were used to woo me (this is in an upscale lounge).

Guy 1
Decent looking man, very clean cut, about 30-35, Pilot
Him – I really like your smile
Me – Thanks, I like smiling. It’s my favourite.
Him – Well watching you smile is my favourite.
Me – **blank stare**
Him – Do you like the thrill of doing something crazy and adventurous?!!
Me – ooo, like meth?!
Him – um…. No. Like sleep with a pilot while he’s on a layover in the city…
Me – Oh… um… are you the pilot?
Him – Yes.
Me – No thank you.

Guy 2
Good looking, broody, with dark features, about 30, Actor
Him – Why are you here?
Me – Oh, well I’m staying at the hotel next door for the weekend.
Him – Why?
Me – Because I like it.
Him – I don’t.
Me – Then why are you here?
Him – Because there are hot girls here who have rooms for the night and they leave the next day.
Me – Alright. I’m going to go ahead and turn this way now.

Guy 3
God’s gift to women… if he was trying to punish us. Good looking, probably 32ish, professional.
Him – I’m very successful.
Me – Well that’s good.
Him – But here’s the best part, I’m also really laidback.
Me – Ok.
Him – You don’t find that combination too often, a guy who is driven and successful, but also laidback.
Me – Um… **look away for exit**
Him – So what do you think, should we get out of here? We can go back to my place and put on Netflix. I could use someone to curl up with.
Me – **blank stare** Oh, I’m sorry, were you serious? Yeah, no, never.

I guess the thing is, not one asked to go for coffee, or even fained interest in getting to know me. I suppose I should really be happy that they’re this forward about what they want, it does save me time in the long run figuring out who they really are. But in all seriousness, I wish them all daughters someday.

I appreciate the breakup advice, but I’d really just like to watch a lot of Dateline

The holidays have always been my favourite time of year, I eagerly countdown starting in September. The family time, the love, the fancy parties and the fact that you can wear glitter during the day without being questioned. I could never understand why people get so stressed out… but then again, all those years I was always single during the holidays. Single is something I can do well, I built my short lived freelance writing career around it. So I hadn’t dealt with what seemed like a never ending stream of problems that arose in a relationship during the holidays. Turns out, there’s a reason why this time of year has also been deemed “breakup season”.
So here I am, about to ring in the New Year, single, well not totally single, I took back the pizza oven I bought him, so my date for the evening is actually Mr. Crispy Crust. We didn’t make it, our relationship was pronounced dead (by him) three days short of NYE. And for the first time ever in my life, I am heartbroken about it. It seems over the last two days I’ve gotten a lot of advice from a lot of different people, some of it similar, some of it out of left field. But never the less, I thought I would share the sentiments.
1. There are a lot of guys out there, don’t worry, you’ll find one. – Ok, so the thing is, I’m not worried about finding another guy. I would actually be very content getting 10 cats and calling it a day. I bet if I wrote a blog about my days with the cats I would have more followers than my blog about dating. Cat Ladies have much more time to read frivolous writing. It’s not about finding another guy; it’s about losing the one I had.
2. Better now than 6 months from now. – I’ve heard this from a lot of people, and I’m not sure I agree. It’s like when you play Monopoly and it always ends in a fight, but at the same time, you can’t resist playing again, because this time it might actually work out well. I would have enjoyed another 6 months of it, I would have kept unfolding that game board and saying, “let’s see if we can do it better this time.”
3. This is why tequila was invented, nothing a little family drinking can’t solve. – Solid point. I fully agree with this one, and now I know where I get it from.
4. I bet his real reason for the breakup was actually (insert theory here). – The problem with our breakup is that there wasn’t a fully painted picture for me, which left things open to speculation. I have heard just about every theory possible on this one, even from a psychic.
5. You two obviously weren’t right for each other. – I mean, I don’t know, I’m a strong believer that it all comes down to timing, just look at Romeo and Juliet.
6. You should get revenge. – I feel like I go through waves of sadness and anger. During the sadness I have an overwhelming urge to phone him for no particular reason. Then during the anger I have the overwhelming urge to egg his belongings. I have decided it’s best to not act on any urges and write about him instead.
7. We can burn the photos of you guys, would that make you feel better? – To be honest, I thought about putting photos in the pizza oven and turning it on, however, all the photos are digital. That means that I would actually have to get the photos printed just to destroy them. I guess the modern day equivalent is photoshopping him out of the photos, but that seems like a lot of extra work for me. So I’m still undecided on this one.
8. I bet he’ll change his mind. – Well wouldn’t that be awkward after I spend all this time writing about him. But I doubt it, the whole thing played out as more of a series finale than a midseason hiatus.

Because what would I roll my eyes at if people didn’t use pet names in public?

There are a lot of things I consider cute, like kittens – actually that’s about it. Understandably not finding a lot of things as adorable as some people, I hate couples that use “cute” pet names in public – I feel like it would be less offensive if they just made out. Mostly I don’t know where people come up with the names, and why the other person lets it happen. I think I was most offended when my ex Adam addressed me as Kiddo and then on a separate occasion as Little Lady (this story was close to ending with “…and he was never seen again”). Being called kiddo especially bothered me because nothing says I respect you as an equal like using the same nickname reserved for parent/child relationships. Brent used to call me Rockstar which I actually didn’t mind, and it goes very well with what I call him now – Jackass.

But maybe this is where I’m going wrong in my relationships; maybe I’m just not letting the cuteness in. I decided to seek help from a website that has thoughtfully compiled loving pet name suggestions for that special person in your life. I now feel that I am set up for success and will be trying a few of these out on my next date. Below are my personal favorite choices from the list of what to call your guy;

Animal Cracker – excellent childhood associations, solid choice.
Butterball – ok, this could work in an ironic way… right?
Casanova – this one kind of screams “I think you’re a manwhore”, but whatevs.
Chef Of Love – …because he’s always cooking up something steamy.
Choo Choo – I would need a wooden train whistle for this one.
Diamond In The Rough – because underneath the ugly, he’s alright.
Huggy Bear – he was the missing Care Bear all along.
Lady Killer – this would only be cute in an alleged kind of way.
Ninja In Training – but how would I know when he’s a full ninja?
Old Faithful – this one may get confusing if there’s a dog in the room.
Wild Turkey – I think I might just be hungry at this point.
Wookie – this pet name would come with a gift certificate to the spa for back waxing.

You can see the full list of excellent suggestions here.