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The Advice Goddess
Amy Alkon |
After a breakup, people say you have to wait one month for every year of the broken relationship (in my case, 11 months) before you’re ready to date. Are they making this up? Right after I was unwillingly separated and in the process of a divorce, I probably talked too much about my pain to women I dated, and they all ran. But, even six months after my separation, I was a dating pariah. I was just looking to share a nice time and have sex with a woman. Should I have been banished to a monastery for 11 months? Wouldn’t life be better if women didn’t apply unverified beliefs about a man based on his being recently separated or divorced?
— Judged Joe
Nothing like a little unfinished business to jazz up a first date:
“I’ll be the broken man at the corner table. Just follow the trail of
Kleenex and tears.”
You know how sleeping with somebody is supposed to mean sleeping with
everybody they’ve ever slept with? Well, not only does dating somebody
mean dating everybody they’ve ever dated, if they’ve recently been
dumped, there’s a good chance you’re dating somebody they’re still
dating. Sure, their ex is physically gone, but at the same time,
they’re very much in the room. So, you aren’t just holding your drink,
you’re holding your drink in that funny way their ex does. And, of all
the hopping joints in town, they make you meet them at some boring bar
in the business district (gee, wonder who works next door), and they
insist on a streetside table — despite the fact that it’s raining cats,
dogs, and Shetland ponies.
If this sounds at all like you, you might as well have brought your ex
on dates: “Look how smug she is. Clearly, it was all her fault!” Should
you have been banished to a monastery? Well, no, especially not as
somebody who’s “looking to share a nice time and have sex with a
woman.” You get yourself ready to do that by going off alone and fixing
what’s broken — not by trying to hold it together with used chewing gum
and wishful thinking, then having little leaks on dates, or, as you put
it, “I probably talked too much about my pain.” Oh, fun! I can see you
at dinner with a woman, shaking your fist skyward: “Why?! Why?! Why?!
Sorry ... what were you thinking of for an appetizer?”
As for the one month per relationship-year rule, no, it’s not like it
was handed down from the mount on the stone tablets (although it’s
possible there was no more room on the front, and nobody noticed the
little arrow and “for #11, turn stone over”). If you’re dancing around
chortling, “Wheee! The wife left me!” or find the mere thought of her
tedious, there’s probably no need for a waiting period. But, can you
blame women who worry that a guy who’s “unwillingly separated” isn’t
with them for how great they are but for how great they are as human
grout for the void left by his ex? Consider whether there might be a
reason women seem less likely to end your dates by climbing into bed
with you than by climbing out the restaurant’s bathroom window; say,
that little puppet show of your last relationship you put on with the
baby vegetables: “Now Mrs. Carrot is cheating on Mr. Carrot with Mr.
Parsnip...”
The thrill of the chaste
“Zero Messages,” the guy you advised to ask women for their numbers
instead of giving them his, reminded me of me. I give my card to women
and never hear back from them. I think it’s time women did their share
of the asking. If a woman’s interested, I’ll hear from her. If I don’t,
it wasn’t meant to be. Isn’t it that simple?
— Rung Out
It could be even simpler. You could go to your favorite bar, grab a
stool, and sit there until a woman tumbles out of a passing airplane,
crashes through the ceiling, and falls directly into your lap. Yeah,
forget all that complicated advice I gave “Zero Messages”: Get a girl’s
number, get her on the line, and ask her out. There are women who will
call men, but mostly men who are friends, already their boyfriend, or
24-hour plumbers. So, it seems you should either get a job snaking
drains or gather like-minded men and go on a global dating strike:
“Operation U Call Us! We’re kicking back and waiting for you girls to
chase us for a change!” Well, a guy can dream. And dream, and dream.
And eventually wake up to the dulcet tones of a woman, indeed, calling
his name. And wow, she’s even in a little nurse’s uniform! What’s that
she’s saying? “Mr. Jones ... Mr. Jones ... have to roll you over now
... time to change your diaper.”
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Got a problem? Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, No. 280, Santa Monica, CA
90405, or e-mail
This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
(www.advicegoddess.com).
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