A Note to the reader: The following was previously posted. For whatever reason, the link doesn’t work. Therefore- and because I believe it’s one of my better posts – I’m republishing it. A new post will be coming next week.
Warning: The following is satire—the use of humor, irony, exaggeration and ridicule to bring attention to a topical issue or human folly in need of reform . . .
On behalf of my fellow women—well, THAT’S oxymoronic! Scratch that. On behalf of my sister women everywhere, I am writing to make a request. When you are done with a relationship, could you please inform us? You see, your current and oh so popular methods of abruptly not returning texts or taking days to respond to a voice mail (i.e. fading, ghosting and Caspering) are not cutting it.
Honestly, it’s a small thing I’m asking. Just a couple of words—of your own choosing even! “I’m done.” “It’s over.” “Moving on.” All would suffice. And I’m sure if you all put your other collective heads together, you could come (pun intended) up with a few more alternatives.
I believe I speak for all women when I say this courtesy would be most appreciated. You see, for a women there is no more agonizing a kiss-off than the fade. You know to what I’m referring. For whatever reason, your feelings have changed. (Hey, it happens.) Or you’ve met someone new. (It happens.) Or you’ve gotten bored. (Yep, happens.) Such is life! Maybe she’s changed—or just revealed her true self. She’s now clingy, possessive, demanding of your time and/or money, a royal bitch or tiring drama queen . . . hell, who wants that? I feel you. But please, do me a favor. Tell her you’re done, it’s over, you’re moving out and/or on. Don’t simply Casper on her and vanish. Unless the Feds just threw your ass into Witness Protection, you owe her that much! BTW, worse than the ghost act is the aforementioned fade game. Seriously? Is this written in a manual (pun intended) somewhere? Or do you all take lessons in junior high on how to dude-dump a female by degrees?
Let’s be clear, gentlemen. I’m not talking about a blow-up break-up. Unless she’s a moron, she knows it’s over. I’m talking about the one day turnaround, whereby one day it’s good and the next day you’re gone, and only you and God know what prompts it. True, trouble in Relationship Town might have been subtly brewing. But unless she has a clue . . . guys, it’s cruel! Do you have any idea how many hours we women spend with our girlfriends trying to decipher some dumb shit break-up text from you that says nothing? Do you do it on purpose? Is it step #3 in the How to Get Free Handbook? She pours her heart out to you in multiple tomes, and in return you send a “I read your texts” reply. Really?!? WTF! That’s not an answer! And it sure as shit ain’t closure. It’s not even close to what she NEEDS to hear. Note: I didn’t say WANT, I said NEED. Whoever might have told you this is a kinder way to break-up with a woman LIED! There is NO KIND way. But there is a RIGHT way I’ll get to presently.
First, a real example of what one of your gender did to one of mine: Thursday evening they are texting. He says he wants to take her out to dinner Saturday night. She’s arriving late Friday evening—too late for plans per se–but he states, “I’ll definitely swing by quick tomorrow night if only to see your beautiful smile.” TEN HOURS LATER (during which there has been NO contact) this text arrives: “I’m going to be busy at work. I won’t have time to move forward in a relationship of any kind with you.” “What the hell happened in 10 hours?” she asks me. Lord! I don’t know! But there I am, trying to console (it’s what we girlfriends do). And I’m trying to come up with an explanation that makes any possible sense–an explanation BTW, that should have come from you! But hey, at least he had the balls (and yes, decency!) to be clear and explicit. In the plainest English he slammed the door shut on any possibility of resurrecting anything.
As opposed to another of your ilk and a second woman I know equally as well. Dude was out of town for 4 weeks. When he returned, he sent a text he was back with a “I’ll keep you posted on things” addendum. Of course, she called! The last time they saw one another he hugged her goodbye and told her she meant a lot to him. So what’s with the friggin’ text? She comes right out and asks. She also asks if she’s going to see him. His response? “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ll catch up.” Guess what? They didn’t. She never saw him again—despite his cowardly “leave the door cracked” tact—which only fosters futile and false hopes. Gentlemen, it’s not that hard. If you are moving on, SLAM THE F**KING DOOR on your way out!
Yes, I know we are different . . . men and women. We think differently, act differently, react differently—hell, I wrote a 3-part post here on the subject! Trust me, you’re not likely to find another woman who better understands men—and I’m confused as f**k! And before you think to call me out on it . . . yes, I know. Women do it to men, too. Heartbreak Street runs both ways. Plenty of women have hurt plenty of men. No gender owns the market on asshole moves and chicken-shit break-ups.
Speaking of . . . they don’t happen only when the involvement goes south for a real reason. You’ll note I’ve spared you the discomfort of calling it a “relationship”—because God knows how that word terrifies most of your kind. Like sunlight to a vampire, you thrown up your hands to shield your face and seek desperate escape. Which segues into my next point . . .
For truly no better reason than she’s getting too close and you don’t “do” relationships, you bail. The problem is you usually don’t tell her. Gentlemen, here’s a newsflash: For women, breaking up is a 2-part process. #1 is the notice of and #2 the reason for. But let’s just tackle #1 for now. As much as we want to know the WHY it’s over—it’s more important we know THAT it’s over. Doubtlessly, some of my sisters will vehemently disagree with me. But it’s my letter, and they can write their own.
So back to you bailing because she’s starting to like you “too much”. . . REALLY? So she likes you! Did she start picking out china patterns or baby names? Has she tried to change even one freaking thing about you? Does she blow up your phone when you’re not with her? Unless you can answer “Yes” to even one of these questions . . . CHILL THE FUCK OUT! Exactly what is it you are so afraid of? Commitment? Did she ask for it? Monogamy? Did she ask for it? Exclusivity? Did she ask for it?
Since we’re on the subject of sex, let’s talk about sex. Question: How do you do the deed without the accompanying emotional feeling? I’m not talking one night stand or casual hook-up. I’m talking 4-5 months long, you’ve easily f**ked her 100 times, encounters—after which you reach for her and hold her close. I’m not judging, just asking. I’d really like to know. If one of you would care to explain it, I’ll gladly disseminate the information to my sisters. It would save a lot of confusion and do a great service to the cause of gender harmony.
If it’s a trade secret . . . how about a trade? I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours. I’ll even go first. You see . . . we women . . . we can’t. We can’t f**k a guy dozens and dozens of times and NOT feel something FOR him. It just happens. As much as (trust me) we wish it didn’t. ‘Cause it would save one hell of a lot of heartache for us if we could. But the simple truth is, it’s an intimate act—ergo a sense of intimacy forms—and actually builds with each interaction. It’s a biological response—with oxytocin being the culprit. This chemical in our bodies increases with physical touch and it causes us to form an emotional, relational connection to the man delivering it. Sorry to break it to you, boys, but ya got this chemical, too. So how you’re all able to turn the switch to off or neutral is a mystery to us.
BTW, if you go and throw in extras—like calling her “Babe” or holding her hand or snuggling up to her in the night, you’re going to make it worse. Oh! And here’s another no doubt shocker . . . if you talk about doing anything together in the future . . . Dude! She’s going to think there’s a fucking future! So why are you so damn surprised when she thinks there’s a thing between the two of you? Especially when you show up Sunday night after work and stay ‘til Wednesday AND tell her next time you’re bringing a uniform to hang in her closet so you can stay ‘til Thursday and go straight to work from her place? Hello??!!
But just because we do develop the f-word for you in response to the f-act with you DOESN’T mean we want a promise ring or a rose garden—or even to be “an item.” Especially if she’s over 40, chances are good a woman loves her independence and living alone as much as you do. This may shock you, too . . . but very few older women—especially after 50—want to play house. Been there/done that is their mantra. Trust me on this one! The VERY LAST thing this single-at-sixty-year-old wants is to get attached at the hip to a man I have to cook and clean for and pick up after. Nor do I want to co-mingle my money and become in a few short years a nurse with a purse for your ass. Seriously, all I want is your respect.
Which returns us to my initial request. Your chicken-shit Casper acts and fade games are a demonstration of the deepest kind of disrespect. Again, I know you might think you are being kinder. But you’re not. Here’s my proposition: In the spirit of achieving a mutually respectful and definite means to this end, how about if both parties agree upon a safe word? A quit word, if you will—to be agreed upon up front, in advance, at a relationship’s or involvement’s onset—a word to be texted if/when the time comes? I even have a suggestion. Rather than a hurtful word such as “done” or “over,” how about “canary?” Since when these little yellow birds keel over in a mine, it’s the signal to get the hell out—I think it’s rather fitting.
Granted, this won’t fix all the relationship issues and problems between our genders, but it would be a damn good start!