Breaking Up is Hard To Do

The subject of bad break ups came up recently. I didn’t win the award for worst, but I think I did win for strangest.

Before law school, I spent a year as a real estate agent in Columbia. I used it really as an excuse to have a sabbatical before going back to school and as a way to avoid the 40 hour grind. Yes, i was pretty much a bohemian. A Epicurian yuppie bohemian, if there is such a thing.

Any, I had a tendency to run off for days at a time to hang out with friends in various locales. In October of 1999, I was strolling along the beach when I spotted her. She was a cute little thing: blonde hair, blue eyes, a little cherubic, but I liked her. She was walking her chihuahua. I wondered why, since I assumed the little thing would collapse from exhaustion before reaching the end of the beach. I gathered (correctly as truned out) that she was one of those whose dog is her baby and there is just no room for qestioning.

I struck up a conversation with her, we hit it off, and she agreed to come up to Columbia the next weekend. We exchanged all contact info.

She came up on Friday, and I took her to California Dreaming, the restaurant every guy takes his new girl to in order to impress her. She ordered the steak and the lobster. It was difficult to listen to her while my wallet quietly weept, but listen to her I did. Her parents took early retirement to the beach. It was a boring retirement community as far as she was concerned and boy she’d like o escape (Red Flag Number One) and that since she’s failed out of college (Red Flag Number Two) as a Theatre major (Red Flag Number Three) Note these Red Flags fall under the 20/20 Hindsight category. At the time I was a smitten kitten and nothing but sympathetic. I thought we were a hit after she smooched me goodbye later.

Oh, no, not us.

You see, she e-mailed me (yes, e-mail. The preferred method of geeks and pedarists everywhere) on Monday. She was in Atlanta, was now engaged to the man of her dreams, and would I please never speak to her again? Sure, baby. Whatever. Two freaking days??!! That little “Dog Walking and Meet a Guy” was apparently a routine that finally worked for her.

Have I sworn off women at this point? Darn near it. Gaining my trust isn’t going to be that easy again. I shifted focus: become a rich lawyer and don’t worry about it. ;)