Another Reader Replies

Got another email from another reader... I'm glad that this site is picking-up steam, hopefully we'll reach a critical-mass of contributors at some point in the near future, and it's really nice to know that I'm not alone. Let's call the new contributor "MK". MK writes as follows:

What's that? You want to know about my experience? Well, okay, but get ready for a long story. I had a girlfriend, once.

Let's examine that statement, so that we're clear on the details. I had a girlfriend. Once.

She was one of those who have NO IDEA how good they had it until after they've broken up with you. (I hope she feels that way now, anyway.) I don't like to toot my own horn, but I'm going to be as honest as possible.

I'm 18 years old, and I don't think I'm all that attractive, but she said I was good looking. I took that with a grain of salt seeing as the only boyfriend that she had before me - was not only the scum of the earth personality-wise, but was also Butt Fugly.

Anyway, she liked me a lot. I thought, perhaps like a fool, that she liked me because of the nice guy that I was. (Hey, I was only 17, and naïve. Give me time.) I soon found out, however, that the reason she liked me was because of the things I did for her. Namely: Everything. I did what she wanted to do, I went where she wanted to go, I... well, you see the pattern. (Hmm... sounds oddly familiar -- NG)

We went out for 6 months which easily felt like an eternity. During that time, there were several occasions to give/receive gifts. Let's see what happened.

Christmas: I gave her some expensive candles I found in one of those girlie stores that they drag you to. I also gave her some incense. I received - zip. (That rings a bell, too. -- NG)

Okay, I'm not too discouraged. Her family didn't have a whole lot of money. In fact, the dumb bitch was out in below zero weather with a spring/fall jacket on. Constantly. My parents bought her a winter jacket so that she wouldn't contract hypothermia. Then we (my parents and I) learn from her parents that she already owned a winter jacket that she refused to wear. Ok-Aaaaaaay. (That was very nice of his parents, I must say. This shows me that Dumb Bitch doesn't appreciate gifts. To misquote Shakespeare's King Lear: Sharper than a serpents' tooth it is to have a thankless girlfriend. -- NG)

Back to the gifts.

Valentines Day: I gave her some expensive perfume. Now, I didn't have a lot of money either, but she was my first girlfriend and I was afraid of not pleasing her and therefore losing her. Maybe I had a self-confidence problem or something, but I certainly don't have this problem anymore. By the way - I received: Zip. (I'm starting to see a recurring pattern. -- NG)

Fine. I learned my lesson. (I wouldn't have suffered silently, if I were him... I'd have let her know how I felt loud and clear. But even that might not have worked. In any relationship, no one should be doing all the giving. Women can get greedy once they're treated nice- it's their God-given right to get gifts, you see. -- NG)

My birthday: I received: A Card. WOW! I got a card! Holy shit, I didn't even get one for Christmas! This gives you some idea of the shit I went through in that "relationship," (if you could call it that.) (A card is not a present. It is a thoughtless, perfunctory, useless gesture that indicates they're too lazy to actually get you something you want. -- NG)

As far as intimacy went, you could probably guess this from what you've read so far. If I wanted to do something for her, she was cool about it, but if I wanted anything in return, It was some weak shit like, "I'm not ready for that, yet." Now, you've got to understand: Anything I did for her was A-OK, but when it came to returning the favor, it was NO WAY JOSE. I put up with this bullshit for what? Six months? What am I, nuts? Not anymore, buster. Thanks to your website, I feel vindicated in my feelings on women now. I understand that I can in no way judge all women by what this shallow cunt put me through, but I understand from my friends' experiences, that all women are pretty much the same. How sad. (I like to think that there are a few nice women out there... maybe in some state that I'll never be able to visit. -- NG)

The Dumb Bitch and the Poor Little Dog

Now, understand this: I don't call her a dumb bitch because I'm bitter over being dumped or anything like that. I call her The Dumb Bitch because of the following story.

About a month before she dumped me, I'd say it was early May 2000, her parents bought her a puppy. Now from the experiences I'd already had with her (Spring Jacket) I knew her to be not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but nothing could have prepared me for this. We were talking on the phone one day when she started telling me about her puppy.

Let me interrupt my own story for a moment and say this: She would CONSTANTLY call me up with no conversation topic in mind, and simply expect me to think of things to say (read: ways to compliment her.) SHE would call ME up, and I would have to come up with a conversation. Huh? (Ugh, I think that's typical for many a woman, sadly. -- NG)

Anyway, back to the poor little dog.

She tells me about how playful it is and stuff like that. Then she casually mentions that she feeds it MARSHMALLOWS or PEANUT BUTTER for a treat.

WHAT?

I was stunned. I blurted out: "What? Are you nuts? You can't feed a dog Marshmallow! Peanut Butter?! Are you crazy? The poor thing will choke to death!"

Then she says to me, in the most snide, princess-like tone of voice she can muster, "I think I know more about this than you." (Yes, well, the first thing you have to understand in any future relationship: she does think she knows more than you! Prime example: my Ex. She was 5 years younger than I, she dropped-out of college after less than one year; I have a masters' degree and fluency in 2 foreign languages. She still claimed she knew more than me, fer crying out loud! A woman just assumes that she is born with superior ways of knowing things. -- NG)

That was it. I'd had it with her. But get this, it was she who broke up with me.

Dumped.

In June, just after I got out of 11th grade, (she: 10th) I call her up and ask her what she wants to do that weekend. She says to me, "Oh, . . . I have some bad news."

Oh, good. "What?"

"It's over." (Hah, I'd have celebrated! I'd have said, "Sure thing, babe!" and hung-up. That's just me, though. -- NG)

Now I knew full well what she meant, but I decided to play dumb, to see If she had a semi-plausible reason. "What's over?"

"The relationship."

Still two-word answers. I continue. "Which relationship?"

"Ours."

Uh-oh. Down to one word. What do I do? "Why?"

She goes on to say the most meaningless and baseless accusatorial SHIT I've ever heard. Things like "I never wanted to do anything." "I never took her out anymore." "I was lazy." Now keep in mind that the reason I didn't want to take her out anymore was because she was a sour bitch who couldn't be pleased. I kept quiet about it, though because this was crushing my heart. (Ah, you see... this is a trick that women play. It's his fault. It's all his fault. He's to blame. He's been a bad boyfriend, so she's breaking-up. This is a corollary of my long-held thesis: women don't expect to be held accountable for anything, so shift the blame. I think that the reality is that she didn't want to feel guilty, so she deludes herself into thinking that he's somehow been an asshole. That's how she convinces herself that it's okay to go-on being a bitch. -- NG) I tried to get her to reconsider, but then she used the oldest break-up line known to man.

"Can't we just be friends?" (Ker-BLAM! -NG)

Horseshit. "Friends don't do things like this to one another," I say. Then she realizes that I'm not falling for her shit, and that she might as well come clean. That's when she tells me about this other guy that she met, and that she think's it's serious. I get so fed-up that I simply say: "Fine. You want to be with someone else? Then God bless the both of you. I hope you have good luck together. Goodbye." (Well done. He bowed-out gracefully. Very few men would be so kind. -- NG)

I didn't mean a word of it, and I think she knew it, but I hung up and that was that.

Or so I thought.

Reconciliation? Not on your life. (I propose the creation of a Post-Breakup Truth and Reconciliation Commission, like the one they used in South Africa to investigate the crimes of Apartheid. *I* could've really used a post-breakup hearing so I could sort-out just how much guilt I should carry-away from my broken engagement. Well, I just think it would be a neat idea regardless. -- NG)

As soon I started my senior year in the fall of 2000, I began receiving handwritten notes from the dumb bitch. This is how the first one started out. (I am not making this up.)

"Hi MK, How are you? Now, I don't want to get back together with you, BUT..."

Yeah, okay. It's been three months and by now she's figured out that she'll never have it that good again unless she gets back together with me. I shun her shoddily-disguised advances. Now she get all pissed off at me for not falling back into her arms. (Yep, she was used to getting her way with MK... now that he shows some backbone, she doesn't care for that one bit. -- NG)

"Oh, WHAT? What am I, a whore? Why am I a waste of time?" (This is what I called her once I realized what she was all about. Not a whore, a waste of time. Where she got the 'whore' label I have no idea.) (There's a reason for that. It's called 'insanity'. -- NG)

I simply wrote her a note saying that I had no desire to spend any more time with her, or even waste my breath speaking to her anymore. Finally, she leaves me alone.

That would be the end of my story except that there's a little more. (Ba-doom-BOOM.) (Hey, *I* call the rim-shots around here, buster. *Grin* -- NG)

"Chocolat." (Copywright infringement noted.)

Just a month ago - The scum of the earth boyfriend of hers, . . . (The one she went out with before me, who was once a friend of mine until he got all jealous because she went out with me after their failed three-week relationship) pays me a visit. It's somewhat important to note that this dude thinks I'm all buddy-buddy with him, when in fact, I hate his criminal - arsonist - wanted-for-questioning - ass. (I'm not exaggerating. He's a thug.) (Really? Wow. Be careful, or you might find a Molotov cocktail being lobbed-at your ass! -- NG)

ANYWAY. He stops by to see me, with a friend of his who tells me that she went out with him a short time after we broke up. We sit down, and this guy seems half-way decent. He and I exchange funny stories about her until the topic of her poor little dog comes up. He tells me this one.

Apparently he was dating her around Halloween of 2000, (a short time after she learned that I wouldn't take her back). Anyhoo, he tells me that she fed her dog...

I am not making this up...

Two large chocolate bars. Holy shit.

He tells me it almost killed the dog. I am not surprised. Do you have any idea what chocolate does to dogs? It not only fucks up their digestive tract, but also gives them the shits for weeks. Even just a little amount of chocolate does that. She fed it two whole bars. Jesus.

Anyway, the punch line of this short story is what she said to him when he tried to stop her from feeding chocolate to her dog. Ready?

"I think I know more about this than you." (Yes, well, the key flaw in that sentence is 'think'. -- NG)

Epilogue.

Well, that bring us up to date, and it's also the end of my story. I always try to end a story with a funny thought, so that I haven't wasted the readers time. So here we go.

Remember the guy she dumped me for, who I'd never met? (Still haven't, but who cares?) Well, he didn't want to go out with her. She dumped me for nothing.

Call me twisted, but I thought that was funny.

The End.

My 'Final Thought'... It sounds like she was a brat. It sounds like she was a needy, whiny, spoiled little princess. She didn't give him presents, but expected to get presents as a birthright. She wouldn't do anything that he asked her to do, but just expected that he'd be her little willing thrall. She didn't give, but she demanded. He's better-off without her. But, he did do one thing wrong: he tolerated, abetted and enabled her whiny, bratty, selfish, childishness for far too long. Hey, if a woman would breakup with you because you forgot her birthday, (and they would) then you certainly have the right to breakup with her for not getting you any presents ever. Lord knows, my Ex demanded presents, flowers and nights-out on a weekly basis. But would she ever give anything to me? With the exception of my birthday and Christmas, very little.

And, remember, even when she's totally wrong- she does think she knows more than you! Your only available response is to quietly let her screw-up so she can live with the consequences of her hubris. Never say "I told you so", though, that would be unbecoming of a gentleman.

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"You are being deliberately calm!" -- Anonymous, angry wife to her husband.

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