Mistake #1 I told her I was moving cross-country-to Los Angeles-and wanted to stay together but didn't want a long-distance relationship. Instead of inventing a new form of relationship, I simply moved without discussing it further. One clue this might not be the most mature tack: at least once during this period, we had s.e.x where weeping was involved. "What, are you sad? Did it hurt? I thought it was quite good!"

Mistake #2 Expressing indignation, rage, and heretofore unseen emotions when I discovered she had started seeing someone else in my absence-even though I gamely, albeit futilely, attempted to penetrate Southern California's hyper-Darwinian mating scene. Yes, by my own design I left things impossibly murky and vague-but that was for my my benefit. Not hers! She was supposed to be pining for me. Hoping that I came around. benefit. Not hers! She was supposed to be pining for me. Hoping that I came around.

Mistake #3 I came around.

On a last-minute, half-baked romantic whim, I flew from Los Angeles to her parents' home in Iowa, where she was visiting. This was a surprise move, confusing everybody, especially the parents, since they knew she was doing some other dude. I didn't know that. Yet.

Why did I fly to Iowa? What was it that kept me coming back when Reason and Practicality were screaming, "Let it go, d.i.c.kwad!" (You should know that Reason and Practicality are mean.) Well, though the heady days of falling and falling and falling in love were shrinking in a rearview mirror, there was still hope. That niggling itch that if you keep at it, persevere, it will come back. Maybe not permanently, but in waves big enough and frequent enough to make everything else worth it. I wasn't ready to give up. And what came of it?

For a few days we enjoyed something resembling romantic bliss. But, as I soon learned, it would be the roller-coaster style. The kind that makes you puke. I helped her move-not to L.A., where I lived, but to Chicago. On the drive, we went into further detail about each other's s.e.xual exploits during our time away from each other. My part was easy. Zero s.e.xual exploits. "And you? What's that? More baths?" What is it with her and bathing with dudes? Now I got really angry. And sad. I was probably more angry than sad, but I found sadness seemed to affect her more. So I went with that. In a dramatic flourish bordering on the baroque, I demanded to be dropped off-not in Chicago, but twenty miles outside the city at O'Hare Airport, where I told her I would pay any amount of money to escape this nightmare. (This was not true. In my mind I had decided I would spend no more than six hundred dollars for a ticket.)

Mistake #4 I stayed.

Finished the drive. We arrived at her new place and I went right down the street to a bar on the corner. Drank two shots of Jameson, which seemed like the appropriate thing to do. I was in uncharted territory here. Maybe it should have been Jack Daniel's. You know what, I just realized it should have been Jack Daniel's. I walked back, and-at this point I am really taking my cue more from popular music and seventy-five years of American cinema than anything resembling actual human behavior-I told her I'm not going to run away. I was going to stay and fight. We enjoyed romantic bliss, again. Cue the nausea. Vomit from the Jameson.

Mistake #5 We made a new plan.

This plan called for complete sacrifice-from her. She would bide her time in Chicago as a lame-duck resident. I would go back to Los Angeles and pick up my life as if nothing had changed, save for the fact I would be talking on the phone more late at night. As late as it was for me, it was two hours later for her-and she had the job that started at nine. I made my own hours and frequently didn't put on pants until one p.m.

Three months later, I flew back to Chicago to pick her up and drive cross-country together. We stopped in Sedona, Arizona, and got so high we slept through New Year's. That was fun. And not technically a mistake, though I believe we did have dinner reservations and that is a very uncool thing to do on New Year's Eve.

We arrived in L.A., but not to live together. (This is a mistake within the larger mistake, but not necessarily one that warrants its own number.) I helped her find an apartment a few blocks away with a friend of mine, convincing her this gave us something to look forward to-a step to take together. I will admit, at this point I was starting to believe my own bulls.h.i.t and, worse still, had lost the ability to determine what was bulls.h.i.t and what was truth. Now, this is an easy call. Bulls.h.i.t. The truth: I was afraid to live with her for fear of it not working out and feeling guilty that I dragged her all the way to L.A., only to have it end badly and now we live together and it sucks for everyone. In poker and the stock market this is called hedging your bets. In relationships it's called being a p.u.s.s.y.

Mistake #6 This really is the killer and I will say all the others can be dismissed as mistakes only in retrospect. They are situation specific, original, and unprecedented. This, however, is a really stupid thing I did and something I should should have known not to do. I introduced her to all my friends and encouraged her to hang out with them on her own. Now, the operative word here is have known not to do. I introduced her to all my friends and encouraged her to hang out with them on her own. Now, the operative word here is all all. Some Some is fine. is fine. Many Many is all right. is all right. Just about every one Just about every one would be okay, too. But not would be okay, too. But not all all. Not the ones you know know are dodgy. Not the ones whose dodginess you have personally witnessed for years. A dodginess legendary amongst his contemporaries. That's just buying a ticket for an express train to Crushtown. are dodgy. Not the ones whose dodginess you have personally witnessed for years. A dodginess legendary amongst his contemporaries. That's just buying a ticket for an express train to Crushtown.

The Dumping and the Damage Done We drift. We don't break up, but we don't try too hard to address issues either. She tried. I know I tried to try. One time we were in a car with my dad and he mentioned casually how his mother died. Turns out I never knew. I was embarra.s.sed because I was twenty-six and you should probably know this kind of stuff at that age. Especially since by my standards my dad and I had a "good" relationship. According to Jill, that was "telling." I thought about trying to turn my emotional r.e.t.a.r.dation into a plus. "Won't it be exciting to watch me grow up before your very eyes? And there's nothing illegal about sleeping with an emotional preteen!" Alas, I didn't know how to talk to her. Or at this point, if I even wanted to.

Time to take stock of the relationship. Not together. That would have been foolish. I decided to go someplace exotic, but not too exotic so as to undercut the weight of all the stock-taking. I chose Scotland. I had some friends in Edinburgh and I could go and wander around soft mossy hills, awash in sheep dung and low clouds. I went in the dead of winter, so there were only five or six hours of light per day. Then I went to the northernmost part of the country, as if I was trying to escape the revealing light of the sun itself. This added gravity-especially since I was the only person in all the hotels I stayed at. Do you get it? I was alone. Isolated. A four-year-old could psychoa.n.a.lyze what I was doing! I thought long and hard about where we were at. What I wanted. What was fair. What was right. I also spent a good deal of time wondering why they call eggplant aubergine aubergine. That's just way too fancy a word for, let's be honest, a pretty s.h.i.tty vegetable.

Soon after I returned to the States, a letter arrived. It was from one of my best friends-the dodgy one-telling me he had developed strong feelings for and was now in love with my . . . I guess ex ex-girlfriend. The letter made no explicit mention of "bath" time, but it wasn't difficult to imagine.

What followed wasn't pretty. Letters and accusations flew. On more than one occasion I uttered the words "I would rather starve than eat your bread." (Thanks for the a.s.sist, Pearl Jam!) Gifts and baubles were repackaged and left on doorsteps. Not a small thing, considering one such gift was a decoupaged coffee table. That b.i.t.c.h was heavy.

Then the sadness. Prolonged, boring, mopey. Plotted countless acts of revenge. Odd how there's no plural for the word revenge revenge itself. I wanted itself. I wanted revenges revenges. And not of the "living well" variety, either. I longed for calamity. Locusts. Fire and brimstone. A pox on their house and cars that gave them endless mechanical problems. But mostly I felt bad for myself. Overly bad, like "I've been martyred on a cross of two people I had dared to trust" bad. I admit here and now, I started writing poetry as an outlet. Buried somewhere in a storage facility or a bas.e.m.e.nt thick with spiderwebs and creaky ski boots is a yellowed legal pad with the words "The Night Table Years" scribbled on the first page. When I die, someone will find it, be momentarily excited, then read it, and then, I hope, burn it.

Years pa.s.sed before I found myself in something even remotely resembling a serious relationship. Self-mythologically speaking, I'd say it was because it just took me that long to find someone I actually cared about. In reality, I was broken and disinterested. Also, that whole thing about L.A.'s hyper-Darwinian mating scene. Tough nut to crack.

Jill and I didn't meet cute and we certainly didn't break up neat. In fact, we never saw or spoke to each other again. But in the years that followed, I came to realize it most certainly wasn't all her fault. In fact, it may be no more appropriate for her to ask for my forgiveness than it is for me to ask for hers. But I'm the one writing, so I get to do both. And, in the same way military cadets eventually thank their drillmasters for their cruel tutelage, I offer my grat.i.tude. Everybody gets crushed. For the lucky ones it only happens once.

Lesson#19

You Can Encapsulate Feelings of Regret, Panic, and Desperation in a Two-and-a-Half-Minute Pop Song by Adam Schlesinger, Professional Songwriter Professional Songwriter

As a professional songwriter, it is my job to vividly portray the minutest details of human relationships quickly and accurately. Complex emotions must be captured in a few simple couplets. How, you ask, can this be done? Well, first one must have something meaningful to write about. And then one must learn The Craft.

Of course, I would NEVER use my own life experiences as the basis for my own songs. My songs are 100 percent fiction. But by carefully observing others, I have developed a keen sense of human psychology. Also, I have mastered the use of rhyme, various poetic devices, and even "slang," which I employ occasionally to give a lyric a "tossed-off" quality. The end result is that I am able to create strikingly realistic character voices in song; so realistic, in fact, they are often mistaken for me.

Annotated below are the lyrics to the song "Baby I've Changed" (once called "one of the greatest B-sides of the last four weeks" by the University of Cincinnati News-Record News-Record). And, though the voice of "me" in the song may often seem to actually be ME, remember that it is only a character . . . a carefully constructed illusion.

BABY1I'VE CHANGED2 She used to love me She used to love me But she don't love me no more But she don't love me no more3 I stepped over the line too many times I stepped over the line too many times And she stepped out the door And she stepped out the door4 But baby I've changed But baby I've changed Won't you come back home Won't you come back home5 'Cause I've changed my wicked ways 'Cause I've changed my wicked ways6 And I'll never throw your mail away And I'll never throw your mail away7 And I won't tell you that your hair looks gray And I won't tell you that your hair looks gray8 And I'll let you listen to Sugar Ray And I'll let you listen to Sugar Ray9 And I'll say I love you every day And I'll say I love you every day10 'Cause it's true 'Cause it's true Baby I do Baby I do Now I hope and I pray Now I hope and I pray11 I can turn this mess around I can turn this mess around12 And I search for a way to convince you to stay And I search for a way to convince you to stay And not just skip town And not just skip town13 'Cause baby I've changed 'Cause baby I've changed Won't you come back home Won't you come back home 'Cause I've changed my wicked ways 'Cause I've changed my wicked ways And I'll put away my socks and shoes And I'll put away my socks and shoes14 If the lights go out I'll change the fuse If the lights go out I'll change the fuse15 And I'll let you listen to the blues And I'll let you listen to the blues16 And I'll say I love you just because it's true And I'll say I love you just because it's true Baby I do Baby I do Baby I do Baby I do17 1. "Baby" is a term of endearment often used in popular song. See also: Bread, "Baby I'm-a Want You"; The Miracles, "Ooh Baby Baby." 1. "Baby" is a term of endearment often used in popular song. See also: Bread, "Baby I'm-a Want You"; The Miracles, "Ooh Baby Baby." 2. For the careful reader, the t.i.tle reveals this song is clearly a work of fiction. Because people don't change. 2. For the careful reader, the t.i.tle reveals this song is clearly a work of fiction. Because people don't change. 3. When expressing heartfelt sentiments in lyric form, it is permissible to use incorrect grammar, according to the Recording Industry a.s.sociation of America. The slangy nature of the phrase "she don't love me no more" implies that the narrator is too overcome by heartbreak to remember how to speak proper English. 3. When expressing heartfelt sentiments in lyric form, it is permissible to use incorrect grammar, according to the Recording Industry a.s.sociation of America. The slangy nature of the phrase "she don't love me no more" implies that the narrator is too overcome by heartbreak to remember how to speak proper English. 4. Note the clever contrast of the metaphorical "step[ping] over the line" with the literal "step[ping] out the door." Any song examining the end of a relationship should include a vivid description of the physical act of leaving. See also: Simon, Paul, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," in which the character Jack is advised to "slip out the back," while a certain Gus is counseled to "hop on the bus." (The exact nature of the relationship between Jack and Gus is left undefined.) 4. Note the clever contrast of the metaphorical "step[ping] over the line" with the literal "step[ping] out the door." Any song examining the end of a relationship should include a vivid description of the physical act of leaving. See also: Simon, Paul, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," in which the character Jack is advised to "slip out the back," while a certain Gus is counseled to "hop on the bus." (The exact nature of the relationship between Jack and Gus is left undefined.) 5. The song's crafty protagonist hints that "home" for his departed lover is the place they shared, and not, in fact, her sister's couch in Westfield, N.J. 5. The song's crafty protagonist hints that "home" for his departed lover is the place they shared, and not, in fact, her sister's couch in Westfield, N.J. 6. Alliteration is, according to 6. Alliteration is, according to Wikipedia Wikipedia, a poetic device which "contributes to the euphony of the pa.s.sage, lending it a musical air" and may also "add a humorous effect." 7. This does not imply that he had ever previously thrown her mail away. Tampering with or discarding someone else's mail is a federal crime and is in no way endorsed by the songwriter or this book's publisher. 7. This does not imply that he had ever previously thrown her mail away. Tampering with or discarding someone else's mail is a federal crime and is in no way endorsed by the songwriter or this book's publisher. 8. When in a relationship, it is important to phrase physical observations about your partner in a positive manner. Instead of pointing out that some of her hair is gray, for example, our protagonist could have complimented her on the fact that most of her hair is not gray. 8. When in a relationship, it is important to phrase physical observations about your partner in a positive manner. Instead of pointing out that some of her hair is gray, for example, our protagonist could have complimented her on the fact that most of her hair is not gray. 9. With this major concession, our narrator reveals the true depths of his commitment and the level of sacrifice he is willing to make in order to salvage the flagging relationship. 9. With this major concession, our narrator reveals the true depths of his commitment and the level of sacrifice he is willing to make in order to salvage the flagging relationship. 10. Mumbling "love you too" occasionally, as when ending a phone call, is here acknowledged to be insufficient as a verbal expression of true pa.s.sion. 10. Mumbling "love you too" occasionally, as when ending a phone call, is here acknowledged to be insufficient as a verbal expression of true pa.s.sion. 11. The subject of faith is often addressed indirectly in popular music, in order to appeal to religious audiences without alienating the more mainstream "hedonist sinner" market. 11. The subject of faith is often addressed indirectly in popular music, in order to appeal to religious audiences without alienating the more mainstream "hedonist sinner" market. 12. "Mess" here refers to the situation at hand, and not to the former lover herself. 12. "Mess" here refers to the situation at hand, and not to the former lover herself. 13. "Skip town" is another slang term, defined by the 13. "Skip town" is another slang term, defined by the Urban Dictionary Urban Dictionary as "to move to another city/neighborhood when your house/crib gets shot up by a rival gang." as "to move to another city/neighborhood when your house/crib gets shot up by a rival gang." 14. Although it is unlikely that the main reason she left was the sight of his shoes, he is presumably just trying to cover all his bases at this point. 14. Although it is unlikely that the main reason she left was the sight of his shoes, he is presumably just trying to cover all his bases at this point. 15. In fact, they had circuit breakers, not fuses, but this did not rhyme. 15. In fact, they had circuit breakers, not fuses, but this did not rhyme. 16. "The blues" is a genre of music created by actors Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi and heard primarily in sports bars and at corporate events. 16. "The blues" is a genre of music created by actors Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi and heard primarily in sports bars and at corporate events. 17. By repeating the phrase "I do" loudly as his final plea, the song's narrator perhaps hopes to be overheard by a pa.s.sing justice of the peace, who will then marry him to his ex on the spot before she has time to realize what's happening. 17. By repeating the phrase "I do" loudly as his final plea, the song's narrator perhaps hopes to be overheard by a pa.s.sing justice of the peace, who will then marry him to his ex on the spot before she has time to realize what's happening.

Lesson#20

I'm Easy by Paul Simms

Well, well, well. Just look at you, walking into this dreary bar and lighting the place up like the noonday sun at midnight, twirling a lock of your long auburn hair pensively as you search the room-for what? For a soul mate, perhaps?

(I know, I know-I hate that phrase, too. Maybe that will end up being one of those things we both hate.) Maybe a few weeks from now, lying in your bed on a Sunday morning, I'll ask you, "What's your least favorite word or phrase?," and you'll say, "'Soul mate,'" and I'll laugh till you say, "What? Tell me!," and I'll tell you how I knew that from the moment I first laid eyes on you, and then we'll have s.e.x again.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. You haven't even noticed me yet. That's okay, I can wait.

Maybe when your gaze settles on me, and we lock eyes in that mutual Hitchc.o.c.kian tunnel-vision effect where the camera is, like, pushing in at the same time it zooms out, or however they do that, you'll come sit down next to me and we'll- Now you've spotted the friends you came to meet. They look like good friends.

Maybe they'll be my friends, too.

Our friends.

Your eyes just came to life like emeralds lit by subterranean torches, and as you move across the room toward your friends you shriek at them, "What the f.u.c.k is up, yo?," in a voice so piercing that the entire bar goes silent for a moment, and I have to check my gla.s.ses to make sure the lenses didn't crack. You continue to bellow your every utterance (including the lines "Jagermeister is the bomb, dawg!" and "Just 'cause I'm a white girl don't mean I don't got some serious junk in the trunk!" and "Random! Random! Random!"), and the bartender leans in and whispers something to his bar back, and they look at you and laugh.

You must be a regular here.

(Duration of crush: seventeen seconds.) Oh my. What have we here? A rainy night in the city has cleared the sidewalks of all but the most intrepid pedestrians, and those who didn't brave the elements have no idea what they're missing.

Because there you are, gliding along on your bicycle, just a few feet ahead of me.

You're obviously not one of those tedious hard-core cycling enthusiasts-no skintight black spandex for you. No, just a simple white T-shirt (soaked through to the skin, clinging to the small of your back) and a long blond ponytail, whipping back and forth like the tail of a cartoon pony, as those long legs of yours pump the pedals and you raise your face to the sky, letting the raindrops freckle your cheeks with sweet diamonds of moisture.

Dare I try to catch up to you? I'm on foot, carrying a bunch of shopping bags, but you've paused at a red light, and-what the heck? I don't know what I'll say to you, but even the clumsiest of introductions on these glistening nighttime streets will give us a romantic how-we-met anecdote that we'll love telling for years to come.

Caught you! Here I am!

And there you are. I see now that you're a dude. My mistake. It was the ponytail that threw me off.

(Duration of crush: thirty-three seconds.) Another restaurant dinner with my boring girlfriend, another lecture about how I never really listen to whatever she's yammering on about.

But how can I listen-how could anyone?-when across the room, alone at a table, reading the newspaper and nursing a gla.s.s of white wine, is a silent confection like you?

You, with your jet-black hair (like a latter-day Veronica from Archie Archie) and your skin so pale that the bubble-gummy pinkness of your pouty lips seems almost obscene, especially when you scrunch them up the way you do every time you lick your forefinger and turn the page.

And I know you see me, too. Your first glance betrayed a glimmer of recognition-as if you knew me but couldn't remember from where-followed by puzzlement, your eyes entreating me to silently remind you, which I couldn't do at the time because my current girlfriend was staring across the table at me, apparently waiting for my answer to some kind of relationship question that I thought was rhetorical.

And so it goes. For an eternity, it seems-through the entire meal, until I watch you ask for the check, and pay it, and get up to walk out of the restaurant, and my life, forever.

But what's this? You're crossing the room toward me? So brazen-just as I knew you'd be. Are you going to surrept.i.tiously slip me your number, written on a sugar packet, perhaps dropping it in my pocket as you fake-jostle me, like a spy handing off microfilm?

My heart beats like underwater thunder in my ears, until you tap my girlfriend on the shoulder, and she sees you and says, "Hey!," and you say, "I thought that was you!," and I realize that you are one of my girlfriend's college roommates.

After you leave, my girlfriend tells me a hilarious story about how one time in college some guy broke up with you, so you found some photos of him nude with the word Patriarchy Patriarchy written on his chest in Magic Marker which you took for an art cla.s.s, and you sent them to his parents and then posted them on your blog, where you apparently like to write incredibly detailed confessionals about the a.s.shole guys you always end up dating, and also, while you don't use the guys' real names, everyone knows that the guy you immortalized as Pencil d.i.c.k is actually a guy I used to work with. written on his chest in Magic Marker which you took for an art cla.s.s, and you sent them to his parents and then posted them on your blog, where you apparently like to write incredibly detailed confessionals about the a.s.shole guys you always end up dating, and also, while you don't use the guys' real names, everyone knows that the guy you immortalized as Pencil d.i.c.k is actually a guy I used to work with.

(Duration of crush: forty-five minutes.) So silly does my impatience now seem, stuck as I am in the Starbucks line during the morning rush. But that was before I noticed you in line ahead of me.

And now that I've seen you-with your gossamer hair still damp from the shower, with your well-moisturized ankles strapped and buckled into high heels that make you wobble and sway like a young colt just finding her stride, with your scent of lilacs and Dial, and, most of all, with your infectious sense of calmness and serenity, which makes me wish that the world itself would stop spinning, so that gravity would cease and we two could float into the sky and kiss in the clouds, giddy with love and vertigo- Now you're at the register, and the dreaded moment when we part without meeting rushes toward me like a slow-motion car crash in a dream.

You've been at the register without saying anything for, like, fifteen seconds now, still scanning the menu board with those almond-shaped eyes that would make Nefert.i.ti herself weep with envy.

Seriously, you've been to a Starbucks before, right? I mean, it seems like there are a lot of choices, but most people find a drink they like and stick with it. And order it quickly.

But maybe I've caught you on a day when you've decided to make a fresh start. To make a fresh start, to try a new drink, to walk a different way to work, to finally dump that boyfriend who doesn't appreciate you.

Okay, even if that were the case you could have picked out your new drink while you were waiting in line, right? I mean, come on.

Well, you've won me back, my future Mrs. Me-by turning to me and mouthing, "Sorry," after you finally noticed me tapping my foot, looking at my watch, and exhaling loudly. Sensitivity like that can be neither learned nor taught, and it's a rare thing indeed. The rarest of all possible- Jesus Christ, you've ordered your drink and paid; do I really have to stand here for another forty-five seconds while you repack your purse, the contents of which you've spilled out on the counter like you're setting up a f.u.c.king yard sale or something?

That's right, the bills go in the billfold, the coins go in the little coin purse, the billfold and the coin purse go back in the pocketbook-no, in a side pocket of the pocketbook, which seems to have a clasp whose design incorporates some proprietary technology that you haven't yet mastered.

I think I hate you now.

(Duration of crush: five minutes.)

Lessons#21 to 36

Things More Majestic and Terrible Than You Could Ever Imagine by Todd Hanson

We are told the healthiest way to think about life's seemingly near-continual parade of tragedy, pain, and humiliation is to view each of these defeats as a learning experience-"Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger," as the saying goes. Technically, that's not true-multiple sclerosis, an inoperable disability, or a nonfatal debilitating injury that results in permanent brain damage are just a few of the examples I could name-but let's just pretend it's true for the sake of argument.

IF getting dumped is a learning experience, it is fair to say I've not only earned several PhDs, but also put in an impressive amount of postdoctoral work as well. So, alas, there is no way I could explain everything I've learned, not in the s.p.a.ce provided here nor even in the remaining years I have on this planet.

Of these truths I have learned, some were so fantastic I never would have thought them possible if I hadn't experienced them myself. Others, so soul-searingly awful they beggar description. Still more fall into a Nietzsche-esque "Beyond Good and Evil" category that defies cla.s.sification altogether.

What follows, therefore, are three unbelievably abbreviated lists-a highlight reel; a mere overview, if you will, of a vast, unwanted body of knowledge.

Things Positive

1. That high school girlfriend you dated so long your young, naive self is desperate to break up with her, but has such a hold on you you can't seem to get away no matter what you do? Don't worry-you won't be stuck with her forever after all. 2. The average Midwestern liberal-arts campus has, it so happens, at least one budding young radical feminist who, despite her vocal opposition to patriarchal hegemony, diatribes against "the male gaze," and propensity for declaring herself a lesbian every couple of months, is nonetheless so mind-blowingly s.e.xy that every single guy on campus wants desperately to get into her pants. When you meet this girl, you will a.s.sume you have absolutely no chance of ever doing so. Good news: you're wrong! 2. The average Midwestern liberal-arts campus has, it so happens, at least one budding young radical feminist who, despite her vocal opposition to patriarchal hegemony, diatribes against "the male gaze," and propensity for declaring herself a lesbian every couple of months, is nonetheless so mind-blowingly s.e.xy that every single guy on campus wants desperately to get into her pants. When you meet this girl, you will a.s.sume you have absolutely no chance of ever doing so. Good news: you're wrong! 3. s.e.x with two heavily tattooed punk-rock drummer chicks whose b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounce hypnotically as they hammer away onstage is pretty much as amazing as you'd imagined. I cannot emphasize this point enough. 3. s.e.x with two heavily tattooed punk-rock drummer chicks whose b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounce hypnotically as they hammer away onstage is pretty much as amazing as you'd imagined. I cannot emphasize this point enough. 4. Fantasy celebrity women you've seen on TV-the kind who are in relationships with major movie stars and live in mansions in the Hollywood Hills-are, it's fair to a.s.sume, permanently relegated in your brain to the "That'll Never Happen" category. In fact, going out with one is so outside your range of expectations, you probably wouldn't believe it was happening 4. Fantasy celebrity women you've seen on TV-the kind who are in relationships with major movie stars and live in mansions in the Hollywood Hills-are, it's fair to a.s.sume, permanently relegated in your brain to the "That'll Never Happen" category. In fact, going out with one is so outside your range of expectations, you probably wouldn't believe it was happening even if you were in the middle of actually doing so. even if you were in the middle of actually doing so. But guess what? Wrong again! But guess what? Wrong again! 5. There exists a certain type of busty Manhattan redhead that makes the girl from those cla.s.sic Tex Avery cartoons-you know the one, the showgirl that causes the cartoon wolf to spin cartwheels, shoot steam out his ears, and flail helplessly as his animated eyeb.a.l.l.s pop out and go rolling across the floor?-look less like a comical cartoon exaggeration than an example of the Italian cinematic school known as 5. There exists a certain type of busty Manhattan redhead that makes the girl from those cla.s.sic Tex Avery cartoons-you know the one, the showgirl that causes the cartoon wolf to spin cartwheels, shoot steam out his ears, and flail helplessly as his animated eyeb.a.l.l.s pop out and go rolling across the floor?-look less like a comical cartoon exaggeration than an example of the Italian cinematic school known as Neorealismo Neorealismo. No, I'm not making this up.

Things Negative 1. That intense desire you felt to be free of your long-term high school girlfriend can turn, overnight, into an unbearable eight-month fit of jealousy, rage, sobbing, and self-pity, just by finding out, posthigh school, that she has been sleeping with the pot dealer from her dorm. Who knew? 1. That intense desire you felt to be free of your long-term high school girlfriend can turn, overnight, into an unbearable eight-month fit of jealousy, rage, sobbing, and self-pity, just by finding out, posthigh school, that she has been sleeping with the pot dealer from her dorm. Who knew? 2. Falling in love with someone every other guy on campus is 2. Falling in love with someone every other guy on campus is also also in love with can make you feel better about yourself than any antidepressant ever concocted by modern science. But, you'll discover, it also has its in love with can make you feel better about yourself than any antidepressant ever concocted by modern science. But, you'll discover, it also has its disadvantages disadvantages-like the fact that at any given moment there are twenty-thousand-odd guys waiting to go out with her the instant she dumps you. This is a situation she will feel no compunction about taking full advantage of with no warning, whenever the whim strikes her. 3. Punk-rock drummer chicks are considered wild and unpredictable for a reason. They can fall head over heels for you, but if you aren't up to speed, they can just as easily-mere days after declaring they can't stand to be without you-pull a complete 180 and get back together with their ex, even if said ex happens to be on really dangerous street drugs at the time. 3. Punk-rock drummer chicks are considered wild and unpredictable for a reason. They can fall head over heels for you, but if you aren't up to speed, they can just as easily-mere days after declaring they can't stand to be without you-pull a complete 180 and get back together with their ex, even if said ex happens to be on really dangerous street drugs at the time. 4. Spending the night with a fantasy celebrity woman you've seen on TV and looking over and realizing the decidedly male items littering the nightstand on your side of the bed belong to the major movie star she is "still in the process of breaking up with" is far less glamorous, and much more stressful, than you'd think. And being told the following morning over breakfast, repeatedly, that she "can't wait to see you next" doesn't mean you'll actually ever hear from her again-even if she continues to flirt with you every time you run into each other over the next several months. Far from being an ego boost, the experience can leave you as confused about the very fabric of reality as Philip K. d.i.c.k writing his fabled 4. Spending the night with a fantasy celebrity woman you've seen on TV and looking over and realizing the decidedly male items littering the nightstand on your side of the bed belong to the major movie star she is "still in the process of breaking up with" is far less glamorous, and much more stressful, than you'd think. And being told the following morning over breakfast, repeatedly, that she "can't wait to see you next" doesn't mean you'll actually ever hear from her again-even if she continues to flirt with you every time you run into each other over the next several months. Far from being an ego boost, the experience can leave you as confused about the very fabric of reality as Philip K. d.i.c.k writing his fabled Exegesis Exegesis-and like him, you will never be able to convince yourself you'd didn't just hallucinate the whole thing. 5. As talented, funny, and fabulous as they may be, sometimes flabbergasting Manhattan redheads call you up at midnight and demand you take a cab from Brooklyn to Manhattan, so they can yell at you until four a.m. about how they need to break up with you because you're too emotionally inaccessible to make a commitment. Even if you've only seen each other, like, 5. As talented, funny, and fabulous as they may be, sometimes flabbergasting Manhattan redheads call you up at midnight and demand you take a cab from Brooklyn to Manhattan, so they can yell at you until four a.m. about how they need to break up with you because you're too emotionally inaccessible to make a commitment. Even if you've only seen each other, like, twice. twice. What's more, though they've decided they despise you with every fiber of their being, this is somehow no guarantee the relationship will actually end there. What's more, though they've decided they despise you with every fiber of their being, this is somehow no guarantee the relationship will actually end there. 6. There is a saying in the entertainment industry: "Faster, better, cheaper-you can only have two." Unfortunately, this same principle applies to romantic partners, with the corresponding categories of s.e.xy, smart, and sane. The tendency of some (me) is to go for the first two and d.a.m.n the torpedoes. The consequences of doing so, however, can be more emotionally nightmarish than an H.P. Lovecraft story, crossed with a Manson Family acid trip, and directed by David Lynch. 6. There is a saying in the entertainment industry: "Faster, better, cheaper-you can only have two." Unfortunately, this same principle applies to romantic partners, with the corresponding categories of s.e.xy, smart, and sane. The tendency of some (me) is to go for the first two and d.a.m.n the torpedoes. The consequences of doing so, however, can be more emotionally nightmarish than an H.P. Lovecraft story, crossed with a Manson Family acid trip, and directed by David Lynch. 7. That last sentence may have come across as hyperbole. Actually, it was a drastic understatement. 7. That last sentence may have come across as hyperbole. Actually, it was a drastic understatement.

Things Indeterminate 1. Strangely enough, after a surprisingly brief elapse of time, you will no longer give two s.h.i.ts about the high school girlfriend you were once so devastated about you dropped out of college. It may seem like a happy ending that it was no big deal after all-until you realize this means you dropped out of college 1. Strangely enough, after a surprisingly brief elapse of time, you will no longer give two s.h.i.ts about the high school girlfriend you were once so devastated about you dropped out of college. It may seem like a happy ending that it was no big deal after all-until you realize this means you dropped out of college for absolutely no reason for absolutely no reason, which is an even more depressing conclusion to live with for the rest of your life. 2. Just because hot college chicks are capable of dumping you on a whim doesn't mean they aren't capable of 2. Just because hot college chicks are capable of dumping you on a whim doesn't mean they aren't capable of reuniting reuniting on a whim too. This feels great-until they dump you on a whim on a whim too. This feels great-until they dump you on a whim again. again. But hey-then they can take you back on yet another whim! This cycle can continue for not one, not two, but But hey-then they can take you back on yet another whim! This cycle can continue for not one, not two, but five years five years . . . until you have firmly established a love/hate codependency not dissimilar from the Miami economy's relationship with cocaine. . . . until you have firmly established a love/hate codependency not dissimilar from the Miami economy's relationship with cocaine. 3. There are, always, 3. There are, always, other other punk-rock chicks, fantasy women, and bra.s.sy redheads (to say nothing of the actresses, lawyers, writers, and vegan PETA activists) out there that you punk-rock chicks, fantasy women, and bra.s.sy redheads (to say nothing of the actresses, lawyers, writers, and vegan PETA activists) out there that you haven't even met yet. haven't even met yet. Waiting, somewhere in the darkness, for you to fall in love with one day. On the one hand, this is as good a reason as you'll ever have to get down on your knees and thank G.o.d for His eternal benevolence. On the other, it is valid cause to rend your garments and curse His holy name. This is neither good nor bad; like most aspects of the human condition, it is both. Waiting, somewhere in the darkness, for you to fall in love with one day. On the one hand, this is as good a reason as you'll ever have to get down on your knees and thank G.o.d for His eternal benevolence. On the other, it is valid cause to rend your garments and curse His holy name. This is neither good nor bad; like most aspects of the human condition, it is both. 4. That whole Icarus-flying-too-near-the-sun-and-plummeting-out-of-the-sky thing? That's real. Same with the Sirens who lure you to death with their irresistible song, and the odalisque so beautiful anyone who looks at her dies. And remember: as bada.s.s as Grendel was, Beowulf hadn't seen anything until he went up against Grendel's 4. That whole Icarus-flying-too-near-the-sun-and-plummeting-out-of-the-sky thing? That's real. Same with the Sirens who lure you to death with their irresistible song, and the odalisque so beautiful anyone who looks at her dies. And remember: as bada.s.s as Grendel was, Beowulf hadn't seen anything until he went up against Grendel's mother mother. I know, I know-I thought they were just myths too. But the fact is, sometimes, if you don't want to meet with a tragic end, your only option is to avert your gaze, tie yourself to the mast with cotton in your ears, or ascend a little less close to the Vault of Heaven.

The sad fact is, there are more ways to get rejected than you ever dreamed. You can get rejected by women who don't like you enough and by women who like you too much. You can get rejected by women you didn't even know you were going out with in the first place. And you can even get rejected by women for not rejecting them. But remember, though it's counterintuitive, basic logic dictates that any time a relationship that should should and and does does end, it is always, by definition, a good thing . . . even if it make you feel like tearing off your own head and angrily hurling it into oncoming traffic. end, it is always, by definition, a good thing . . . even if it make you feel like tearing off your own head and angrily hurling it into oncoming traffic.

It is also crucial to bear in mind that even after a lifetime of such learning experiences, you will never understand the first thing about women. you will never understand the first thing about women. Do not delude yourself about this. Guys who claim to understand everything about women are like Kansas school boards that claim to understand everything about the creation of the world-interesting from a sociological perspective maybe, but still, totally full of s.h.i.t. Do not delude yourself about this. Guys who claim to understand everything about women are like Kansas school boards that claim to understand everything about the creation of the world-interesting from a sociological perspective maybe, but still, totally full of s.h.i.t.

And of course, none of the above changes in any way the larger, overriding fact that women have always been, are, and will eternally remain the Official Most Awesome Ent.i.ties Ever Bestowed Upon Undeserving Mankind. Thus, despite my vast experience getting getting dumped, the number of times dumped, the number of times I I have dumped someone else is, as of this writing, holding steady at exactly zero. Being what is sometimes euphemistically referred to as "the sensitive type," I guess I know how it feels too well to bring myself to do that to somebody else-even in cases where it clearly would have been not only the smartest course of action, but also the most humane. have dumped someone else is, as of this writing, holding steady at exactly zero. Being what is sometimes euphemistically referred to as "the sensitive type," I guess I know how it feels too well to bring myself to do that to somebody else-even in cases where it clearly would have been not only the smartest course of action, but also the most humane.

I am showing improvement, however: my last two relationships ended mutually. mutually. It is truly wonderful to be me! It is truly wonderful to be me!

Lesson#37