I'm a hopeless romantic, so I thought it was terribly sweet. But I know a girl who saw it as stalker-like.
I'm talking about how people handle heartbreak because for every broken heart, there's a reaction by the breakee and who's to say which is best?
Not long ago I ran into a musician friend I hadn't seen out in a while, which wasn't like him. When I teasingly asked where he'd been, his head dropped to his chest.
"I got my heart broken so I've been staying at home the past couple of months."
It led to an intense discussion of how long it takes to get over a broken heart, but I could tell he was nowhere close.
Today, I saw how a stranger is handling his heartbreak. Driving down Malvern, brightly-colored signs line both sides of the street, presumably where the sign writer's beloved drives regularly.
The signs, and there are many, many of them, say it all:
Real love has no boundaries
I'M SORRY!
I miss your smile
Real love doesn't judge
Tomorrow doesn't matter without you
There is no US without U
Sky's are grey without you
My heart cries
Time moves slow
I'm empty without you
You have my heart
Believe in us
I care for you
I'M SORRY!
I told a friend who had also seen the simply-worded signs that, spelling aside, the gesture seemed very sweet and romantic to me.
Clearly someone is hurting and hoping to get through to his/her ex.
He agreed but said his girlfriend differed, seeing it as threatening, stalking even. Clearly, there's no one-size-fits-all when it comes to romance and heartbreak.
But someone's trying awfully hard and it strikes me as rather touching.
I think I'd be inclined to use other people's words if I were putting up signs, starting with the immortal words of Pearl Bailey.
The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love
Imagine the impact on a day-glo pink poster board with a heart over the "i."
Ah, romance...
Showing posts with label getting dumped. Show all posts
Showing posts with label getting dumped. Show all posts
Friday, July 15, 2011
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Give a Girl a Break
Did the male half of the population get a memo yesterday to divest themselves of their womenfolk?
How could this be happening to yet another of my friends?
After an evening of comforting a friend about the unceremonious end to her relationship yesterday, I came home to this e-mail: "Seriously. Got dumped. Ice cold style."
With no more information than that, I suggested she call me today and we'd talk.
She invited me to join her as she ran some shopping errands and while my distaste for most shopping is well-known, this was all about food, the only kind of shopping I can stand.
Besides, it would give us plenty of time to discuss the dead end her relationship had suddenly reached.
She started telling me the details as soon as I got in the car and continued in the car long after we arrived at our destination.
It was easier to get the facts, just the facts, over before we got around other people.
Discussion could follow anywhere...and did.
Not surprisingly, she had a bit of a hangover, so we necessarily started with lunch.
At Sprout, she had the curried chicken salad over Manakintowne greens and I had cucumber, bacon, tomato and goat cheese over the same greens.
It's such a great time of the year for out-of-the-garden goodness and both of us were impressed with our choices.
Sprout continues to deliver on taste while making it incredibly easy to be a locavore.
Our shopping began at Costco, and we were an unlikely pair since she's so much a regular that the cashiers know her by name and it was my first time ever.
Yes, I was a Costco virgin (and, believe me, only gave it up for a really good friend).
We already knew that this would be the least enjoyable part of the trip, so we made short work of her list and got out of there.
Tan-A Market was our second stop and here we lingered, admiring all the colorful cans, so many containing unfamiliar foods and ingredients.
My friend commented that if she had open-front cabinets, it would be here that she'd stock up on unusual canned goods for their visual presence and only afterwards figure out what dishes to use them in.
I could see the beauty of her offbeat plan.
Finally we got to Bodega Latina, partly to shop and partly to eat again.
The music was awesome; I commented on how much I was liking it and she said, "Don't you wish you knew Spanish so you'd know what they're singing?"
Kind of, but the music was interesting enough without comprehension. Surely they couldn't be singing about anything bad.
We were there for Mexican Cokes and pupusas revueltas (thick corn tortillas, chicharron, loroco queso and frijol) with curtido (fermented cabbage slaw with red chiles).
You'd think we hadn't just had lunch a couple of hours previously.
Actually, you'd be closer to the truth to guess that I'm not used to all that shopping and she was still sopping up last night's hurt.
I loved the pupusas, but next time, when I haven't already eaten, I'll definitely go for the tongue tacos (self-deprecating headline to follow).
Much like last night, I could offer little advice, only an empathetic ear for a friend who has been hurt.
If I knew the answer to getting over a relationship, I'd be practicing it myself.
She complimented me on my ability to maintain such a positive outlook when so much has not worked out in my own life the past year and a half.
As I pointed out to her, the alternative is pretty unappealing.
Compartmentalize, put a smile on your attitude and move forward.
And don't hesitate to resort to extra lunches and long talks with friends when necessary.
And for the rest of you guys who got that dumping memo, please rip it up.
You're making my friends really sad.
Not to mention putting me in a position where I have to go to (eww!) meat markets and (egads!) shopping in the name of offering support.
It's nowhere near as bad as being dumped, but it's not easy, either.
How could this be happening to yet another of my friends?
After an evening of comforting a friend about the unceremonious end to her relationship yesterday, I came home to this e-mail: "Seriously. Got dumped. Ice cold style."
With no more information than that, I suggested she call me today and we'd talk.
She invited me to join her as she ran some shopping errands and while my distaste for most shopping is well-known, this was all about food, the only kind of shopping I can stand.
Besides, it would give us plenty of time to discuss the dead end her relationship had suddenly reached.
She started telling me the details as soon as I got in the car and continued in the car long after we arrived at our destination.
It was easier to get the facts, just the facts, over before we got around other people.
Discussion could follow anywhere...and did.
Not surprisingly, she had a bit of a hangover, so we necessarily started with lunch.
At Sprout, she had the curried chicken salad over Manakintowne greens and I had cucumber, bacon, tomato and goat cheese over the same greens.
It's such a great time of the year for out-of-the-garden goodness and both of us were impressed with our choices.
Sprout continues to deliver on taste while making it incredibly easy to be a locavore.
Our shopping began at Costco, and we were an unlikely pair since she's so much a regular that the cashiers know her by name and it was my first time ever.
Yes, I was a Costco virgin (and, believe me, only gave it up for a really good friend).
We already knew that this would be the least enjoyable part of the trip, so we made short work of her list and got out of there.
Tan-A Market was our second stop and here we lingered, admiring all the colorful cans, so many containing unfamiliar foods and ingredients.
My friend commented that if she had open-front cabinets, it would be here that she'd stock up on unusual canned goods for their visual presence and only afterwards figure out what dishes to use them in.
I could see the beauty of her offbeat plan.
Finally we got to Bodega Latina, partly to shop and partly to eat again.
The music was awesome; I commented on how much I was liking it and she said, "Don't you wish you knew Spanish so you'd know what they're singing?"
Kind of, but the music was interesting enough without comprehension. Surely they couldn't be singing about anything bad.
We were there for Mexican Cokes and pupusas revueltas (thick corn tortillas, chicharron, loroco queso and frijol) with curtido (fermented cabbage slaw with red chiles).
You'd think we hadn't just had lunch a couple of hours previously.
Actually, you'd be closer to the truth to guess that I'm not used to all that shopping and she was still sopping up last night's hurt.
I loved the pupusas, but next time, when I haven't already eaten, I'll definitely go for the tongue tacos (self-deprecating headline to follow).
Much like last night, I could offer little advice, only an empathetic ear for a friend who has been hurt.
If I knew the answer to getting over a relationship, I'd be practicing it myself.
She complimented me on my ability to maintain such a positive outlook when so much has not worked out in my own life the past year and a half.
As I pointed out to her, the alternative is pretty unappealing.
Compartmentalize, put a smile on your attitude and move forward.
And don't hesitate to resort to extra lunches and long talks with friends when necessary.
And for the rest of you guys who got that dumping memo, please rip it up.
You're making my friends really sad.
Not to mention putting me in a position where I have to go to (eww!) meat markets and (egads!) shopping in the name of offering support.
It's nowhere near as bad as being dumped, but it's not easy, either.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Therapy for Getting Dumped
There are certain places I just don't go. Period. The end.
And then a friend will call me up to say that she's just been dumped and asking me to please go out with her and hear her sob story.
Unfortunately, she wants to sob at a meat market.
When she tells me she wants to start with drinks at Tobacco Company, I cringe.
The last time I was there was the day OJ took his SUV and led the police on a televised chase. This is not my kind of place.
But my friend is distraught and wants to be around people, specifically men.
"Are you looking to get picked up?" I ask incredulously. "No, but I definitely want the opportunity to turn someone down," she says in all seriousness.
I must be a very good friend because I agree to this plan.
Being in a place I don't like surrounded by people who hold no appeal requires one thing: good wine.
I opt for the Conundrum at S14 a glass and hope it will make the time go faster.
I listen to how the dumping went down, unable to be of any assistance.
Yes, I got unexpectedly dumped last year, here, but that hardly makes me an expert (and my still not being over it doesn't encourage her any).
I have no answers to offer, so I order another glass of Conundrum.
During a discussion of city versus suburban living, my friend unexpectedly turns to the two guys sitting next to her and asks where they live; one lives in Philly and one in the Richmond suburbs.
My friend latches on to the the local and the Philly guy moves over to sit next to me.
I'm not looking for male companionship, but it turns out he is an author twice published so we are at least able to enjoy some good conversation.
Meanwhile, the local is "reading" my friend and telling her how she needs to change and what her issues are. He even gives her advice about the dumper's behavior; she is enthralled.
What he says about her is true, but it's all stuff she's been told before.
I am extraneous and wish to teleport to any number of other places. Conundrum, please.
Eventually, I convince her that we need to eat and she chooses Dora's Brazilian Grill on the corner just down the street.
Meat palaces like this are wasted on me; while I appreciate the food, I cannot eat enough to justify the cost.
But it doesn't matter because we are here to make her feel better and wine and meat are what will accomplish this.
Owner Dora gets us set up and ready to partake. The procession begins with salad and herbed biscuits, followed by black beans, fried plantains, rice, baked potato and sweet potato slices.
Homemade pork sausage, alcatra, roasted lamb, chicken drumsticks, roast pork, top sirloin, grilled flank steak, bacon-wrapped chicken, rib steak and Virginia grill are all eventually brought to our table.
It is an embarrassment of protein.
After a while it becomes a blur, but the roasted lamb and rib steak stand out as my favorites.
Before long I am sick of meat and can no longer think of any answers for my friend's questions.
I don't know why a guy is seemingly happy one day and dumping you the next.
Conundrums of all types abounded tonight.
And then a friend will call me up to say that she's just been dumped and asking me to please go out with her and hear her sob story.
Unfortunately, she wants to sob at a meat market.
When she tells me she wants to start with drinks at Tobacco Company, I cringe.
The last time I was there was the day OJ took his SUV and led the police on a televised chase. This is not my kind of place.
But my friend is distraught and wants to be around people, specifically men.
"Are you looking to get picked up?" I ask incredulously. "No, but I definitely want the opportunity to turn someone down," she says in all seriousness.
I must be a very good friend because I agree to this plan.
Being in a place I don't like surrounded by people who hold no appeal requires one thing: good wine.
I opt for the Conundrum at S14 a glass and hope it will make the time go faster.
I listen to how the dumping went down, unable to be of any assistance.
Yes, I got unexpectedly dumped last year, here, but that hardly makes me an expert (and my still not being over it doesn't encourage her any).
I have no answers to offer, so I order another glass of Conundrum.
During a discussion of city versus suburban living, my friend unexpectedly turns to the two guys sitting next to her and asks where they live; one lives in Philly and one in the Richmond suburbs.
My friend latches on to the the local and the Philly guy moves over to sit next to me.
I'm not looking for male companionship, but it turns out he is an author twice published so we are at least able to enjoy some good conversation.
Meanwhile, the local is "reading" my friend and telling her how she needs to change and what her issues are. He even gives her advice about the dumper's behavior; she is enthralled.
What he says about her is true, but it's all stuff she's been told before.
I am extraneous and wish to teleport to any number of other places. Conundrum, please.
Eventually, I convince her that we need to eat and she chooses Dora's Brazilian Grill on the corner just down the street.
Meat palaces like this are wasted on me; while I appreciate the food, I cannot eat enough to justify the cost.
But it doesn't matter because we are here to make her feel better and wine and meat are what will accomplish this.
Owner Dora gets us set up and ready to partake. The procession begins with salad and herbed biscuits, followed by black beans, fried plantains, rice, baked potato and sweet potato slices.
Homemade pork sausage, alcatra, roasted lamb, chicken drumsticks, roast pork, top sirloin, grilled flank steak, bacon-wrapped chicken, rib steak and Virginia grill are all eventually brought to our table.
It is an embarrassment of protein.
After a while it becomes a blur, but the roasted lamb and rib steak stand out as my favorites.
Before long I am sick of meat and can no longer think of any answers for my friend's questions.
I don't know why a guy is seemingly happy one day and dumping you the next.
Conundrums of all types abounded tonight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
