The File System

Day 11

My mentor and first post-college boss once shared this theory, which had been passed down by her very wise husband...

The File System

Every man has a file system. Every woman that he dates gets a folder. When he's done dating the woman, he puts her folder into the back of the filing cabinet. Periodically, for a multitude of reasons, he goes through the filing cabinet, pulls out a random folder and calls the woman. He never gets rids of the folders, just keeps refiling them.

This explains so much.

This explains why ex-boyfriends have popped up after years and years of (as it should be) no contact, why a friend of mine got a call from her senior prom date ten years after the events, and why I have never dated a guy that didn't in same way, at some time, try to come back into my life.

This explains why I knew a guy who called after we hadn't talked for a few years, saying that he was getting married soon and wanted to see if I wanted to get together one more time for a drink or something. He must have been emptying out the filing cabinet before the big day!

I, as well as girl friends of mine, have explained this theory to guys. They always swear they won't do it, they don't have a filing system and they would never stoop so low as to pull a folder back out once it's been filed away, but every single one of them did do just that.

Women don't do this. For the most part, when we end a relationship, or decide that one or two dates was more than enough, we don't put the folder into a filing cabinet. We burn the folder. We hold it out, light it on fire and watch it burn. Occasionally, down the road, we might catch the scent of a camp fire, or the flick of burning ash and wonder, for a moment, was burning that folder the right call? But we always realize that, yes, in fact, it was. We stopped dating for a reason; no point in shuffling through old files when there are brand new ones to be made.

The LOLCat Email

Day 10

I found an old email that I'd sent to a friend just a few days after one of my previous break-ups. I'd like to think that this email suggests that I'm doing considerably better this time around, and therefore must be growing as a person. (Then again, I have chosen to start writing a blog about my dating life, soooooo.....)

Things to note:
1. I had just moved to a new city, broken up with someone, lost someone to a short, unexpected illness, and was all around angry at the world
2. This email was sent at a time when LOLCat was a new, exciting web phenom
3. Sometimes I find myself very amusing

I now present....The LOLCat Email:)

From: Me
To: Cat-loving friend who probably had way more important things going on her life than to listen to me rant (you know who you are and I love you)
Subject: A stupid rant about stupid things

Ok, so I has an angry...

That STUPID "I Can Has Cheezeburger" site! I made a few lols myself (apparently, at this time I thought that putting funny comments on cat pictures was the way to get over my break-up)...a couple I thought were pretty darn great . (And they were!) None of them were selected to show on the main page...but funny thing...the one they put up this morning is the same as one that I submitted last week! Same picture, same caption! Now, what I want to know is why did that one get put up and mine did not, and WHO STOLE MY F***ing LOL and then GOT IT POSTED?!

Arg.

I think I am off the funny for a while.

- Me

p.s. Told you it was stupid:)

It's a Christmas Miracle!

Day 9

1 plant down, six left.

Made it through the Thanksgiving holiday with no tears, minimal "where's so-and-so," and only three pieces of consumed cheesecake.

Not bad.

Watched an embarrassingly large amount of made-for-tv Christmas romance movie, chock full of bad dialogue, annoying music, and super important but oh-so-cheesy Christmas-spirit life lessons:) The star-crossed lovers always end up together, just in time for some magical Christmas caroling and a little unexpected but welcomed snowfall. If you just believe, and happen to have a magical dog, or meddling old relative who really does know best (wink wink), or Santa in disguise, you too can find your true love and, most importantly, the true meaning of Christmas!

Of course, in real life, she mopes around the house and drinks too much wine, and he ends up at a bar, hooking up with a girl who's heart he will, inevitably, break in the morning, when he wakes to find that a large snow storm has swept through the area, burying his car in two feet of cold, slushy mess, and he left his window scraper and shovel at home.

I think I now need to watch a few hours of dramatic, depressing Dateline stories to balance the scales:)

Of Plants and Personal Ads

Day 5

I asked him to stop calling. He did. I think I feel worse now.

I know that it's better and it will help me move on, blah blah blah, but when he was still calling and texting I could hold onto the delusional little hope that he could come around and realize how awesome I am. He would come back promising great and wonderful things, and making huge, romantic gestures like people do in the movies. There are just two problems with that: 1. We didn't break-up because of the unrecognized awesomeness of me, but rather his own set of oh-so-fun and frustrating issues, and 2. life is nothing like a romantic comedy.

In an attempt to make myself feel better, I've taken to building a collection of small, green house plants. It's a hobby full of nurturing and growing and pretty things, and in about two weeks I'll probably have ten wilted, browning things formerly known as plants strewn around my house. I've never been much of a green thumb, but I'm trying.

I've also started to periodically look at the online personals site. I don't have a profile up, but I've been checking out the slim selection of single guys that fall into my search category, preparing myself to re-enter the gauntlet of online dating. Of course, I'm not ready to jump in just yet, the corpse of my last relationship barely cold, so for now I lurk, reminding myself that I am not the only single person left on the planet, and that I could meet Mr. Wonderful at any moment.

In the meantime I'll keep repeating my mantra to myself: He's on his way and he's getting here as fast as he can.

Another One Bites the Dust

Me: So which weekend do you want to go to New York City?

Him: I can't do this.

Me: You don't have any free weekends in December?

Him: No, I mean us. I'm just not ready to be committed to someone right now.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand....Single.

I hate this part. I want it to be three months later. I want to be beyond the whole breaking up extravaganza, past the "I miss him, I miss him not" phase, and over the part where the thought of him and us and every nice memory doesn't make my stomach churn. I want to be unafraid that I could break into tears at any given time. I want to not check my phone twenty times a day, hoping he texts and then feeling angry if he does and more angry if he doesn't. I want to think of him without pain or heartache or what-ifs or if onlys.

I want to be over this.

But then, of course, once that happens, I will be thrust back into the world of dating. I will trade the mourning sadness of an ended relationship for lonely nights alone on the couch with my cat. I will exchange disappointment from the loss of Him to disappointment of one dead end first date after another. I will dress up and force myself to go out into the snow and the wind and the cold, cruel singles world, again and again, in search of that elusive knight in shining armor. I will, to my own horror, peruse the online dating sites, sending winks and smiles and emails to guys who will inevitably turn out to bore, disappoint, or completely creep me out. I will fill out the online profiles, pay the fees, check my messages and go on dates. I will periodically grow tired and weary. I will pull my profile down and decide to take a break, only to undoubtedly put it back up days or weeks later when my disillusionment fades just enough for me to give it another go.

Can't wait.