Tag Archives: Break Up

I (Heart) You, Babe

St. Valentine’s Day come round again, bringing with it the pure joy and sense of togetherness that is love.

It surely wouldn’t bring with it feelings of inadequacy, panic, anger, frustration, sexual frustration, crumpling under pressure, performance anxiety, fervent desire to be somewhere — anywhere — else. Surely.

Ha, don’t call it Shirley.

I’m not sure if it’s a difference between dudes and dudettes, but the men I know really have no special affection for Valentine’s Day. To us, it’s just a day where we used to get candy in school and (at least for me) that inadequate feeling when the only Valentines in your bag were the ones that got given out to everyone in the classroom.

Even when I ostensibly grew up, I never saw all that much reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I probably got it from my AlohaDoc, aka my dad.

I can’t remember how many times he told me the story of how, when he was a young dude himself, he used to break up with whoever his girlfriend was at the time right around the first of February. That way he didn’t have to go out and purchase a gift.

Women, on the other candy assortment, seem to love Valentine’s Day. I found this out during the first Valentine’s Day I spent with the lady who would become my wife, known to me then as She Who Must Be Having More Fun Than Anyone I’ve Ever Met Before.

We were about to swap presents when she said, “I love Valentine’s Day. It’s always been so special to me.”

At which point my heart crumbled to dust, sifted out my body and landed in a small, dry pile on the linoleum of her dad’s kitchen floor. Because, being an idiot, I’d managed to get her something remarkably unspecial. Heck, it was so unspecial, I can’t even remember what it was.

What I do remember is the look on her face, the sadness trying to hide behind a really bad poker face. I’ve learned since then. Valentine’s Day is a big deal.

Me? Still not so much. The way I see it, I would rather receive spontaneous recognition of someone’s love for me during the year than have one day where that display is mandated. I mean, is it really special when you’ve got to do it?

I’m not so sure about that.

Anyway, I don’t want to come off sounding all cynical and anti-love. I’m not. Well, not anti-love. I can’t help being cynical. I mean, after all, my eyes and ears do work and I pay attention to the world. How could I not be cynical?

But not cynical about love. Love is amazing. Love. Love will keep us together. It’s just Valentine’s Day I have a problem with.

That said, I still went out and got some very nice presents to hand over to my Sweetie. I’m not telling because she’ll probably read this before I have a chance to give them to her.

The hug’s going to be nice. As for anything else. . .

See you later, dudes.

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Broken Heart

by Richard

It seems odd, but this is the first time it’s happened here in Casa de Dude. We’ve got a broken heart.

Sarcasmo recently went through an odd little break up. To most people, I’m sure, it wouldn’t mean all that much. But it meant the world to him.

He came to me for advice. He didn’t know what to do because it hurt so bad.

And all I had left to give him were clichés.

You’ll get better in time.

The joys of trying for love outweigh the sadness losing it.

There are others out there for you.

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” said J.

“Try it,” K growled.

Even as the words left my mouth, I could feel the inadequacy of them. It’s not just inadequate to this situation, but to most situations that deal with a broken heart. When you’re heart’s in a million pieces on the ground, everything is inadequate. Nothing can heal the pain. Nothing can make a difference.

The words we say are nothing but noise. The hugs we give are nothing but constrictions. The smiles, merely more teeth showing. The tears we shed are arid counterpoint to the ocean of sadness inside. And the prose we right, not nearly purple enough to cover the depth of our damage.

And then, one day, you find that you’re healed. The thought of the dudettes name doesn’t leave you feeling like you’ve just tried to kiss an angry hedgehog. Seeing the dude’s face across the room, doesn’t make you want to run the other way at speed.

And you’re amazed that you ever actually cared enough to worry about losing that twit.

When your heart is fresh broken, you know it will never heal. When it’s healed, you know it’s hardened enough so that it will never break again. Until the next time.

But that’s something you don’t want to hear about right now.

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