Kickin' it old school

I hate break ups. I am going to go out on a limb here and say that they are not fun.

Mr. GenY bit the dust. It is fine, which is to say that it's good in the long-term sense, but Jesus H., I am really sick of crying. Oh, the whoa that is my life and stuff.

I keep telling myself that this is normal. I keep telling myself that this is supposed to feel like shit, that it is supposed to feel like my heart's been ripped out, that this too shall pass. That a year and a half spent on some dude (who I knew wasn't emotionally available when I first met him) is a long time, and that it will also take some time for me to heal. To repair the gaping hole in my heart, and other melodramatic sentiments of the like. Blah blah blah, cry me a river, I know.

See, this is why really, really bad love songs are written. Gaping holes in the heart, my friends.

My clan has been duly informed of said break up, and they are prepared. For the 3 a.m. calls, when I really want to call Mr. GenY instead. For the crying and carrying on and the stages of grief. For the gritting of the teeth when, after 3 months, I still have not moved on and they have to tell me that they are ready to strangle me with the (non-existent) cell phone cord if I bring up Mr. GenY's name one more goddamned time. They know that they need to kick my ass, and they know that they have to be gentle with the ass kicking.

Because I really don't want to be in this position again. It was doomed from the start. Age difference, lifestyle difference, maturity difference, and those are just the big ones. My friends know that. So they will have to remind me of what a tool Mr. GenY was, and who cares if he looks exactly like Shia LaBeouf? Big deal! Looks are not everything, they will say. I will sadly agree, and hang my head in shame that I gave some 25-year-old guy all my power. They will speak of how amazing I am, and that I deserve much better, but all I will be able to think about (for awhile, anyway) is how his eyes sparkled when he talked about those obscene Gangland shows. And how he made the cutest smooching sounds to his dog when we were on the phone. And how he would just randomly say, "Yeah", whenever there was a lull in the conversation. And how he once called Barack Obama a dicksneeze, just so I would punch him.

Love sucks.

I heart him. I wish I didn't, but I really, truly do. I can't just turn these fucking feelings off, no matter what my head says. My head is ready to beat my heart's ass the next time it so much as feels a mushy, positive feeling for Mr. GenY. I'm kickin' it old school, the hard way, and I hate it. I HATE it! But I don't want to become one of those bitter women who are rude to cashiers just because they are having a bad day. Damn, in 2008, is there any hope left? Is there any love anymore? Is there such a thing as doing right by someone else? Am I the only one out there who still believes in integrity, in honesty, in trust? Am I too old to be dating anyone? Or should I just go buy some cats and call it a day?

My landlord won't let me have cats, anyway, so I can't even do that. I guess my only option is to get through this, to face the blinding pain, and to come out of it that much stronger and that much more hopeful. I know that time, she is a bitch. She will move very, very slowly over the next few months, making this totally agonizing. What a cheerful thought.

Oy. Almost makes me want to become a lesbian. Again.