Weaker Than What?
All of this wedding talk has started me thinking about break-ups. Or, rather, how one deals with break-ups. Even more specifically, how I dealt with break-ups. Not that I’ve had a lot of people break up with me: quite honestly, I’m pretty much the last train home to the cat’s meowing pajamas and all that Jazz. And, while I’m terrifically grateful I won’t be having to worry about being dumped after I’m hitched (I won’t, right?), looking back at getting the boot in a relationship has actually been a fun game of reminiscences.
Being fumigated like yesterday’s bedbugs wasn’t my absolute favourite past time, but I did have some pretty clever recovery methods. When my very first suitor kicked me to the corner, Best Friend Erica and I edited every single one of his notes in red pen. We also staged a dramatic reading of each letter vocalized with rousing accents and pleading tones. It was more than fabulous.
For the next ten or fifteen years, I dealt with break-ups by quickly and simply replacing suitors with other suitors (or chocolate). My twenties were very much in keeping with Cher’s attitude that ‘Men should be like Kleenex: soft, strong, and disposable.’
After that decade, breaking up was dealt with through music and I had access to a lot of pretty good music. (Which is fortunate when one dates musicians and impressive in dating Hockey players.) One of my godawfulest-I-don’t-wanna-talk-to-you-or-look-at-you-EVER-because-you’re-a-great-big-poopy-face break-ups was medicated by the Punk genre. I’m not sure how, but “Plea From a Cat Named Virtute”, by The Weakerthans, became my anthem. Maybe it was because my own little puddy-tat was sad because I was sad. Or, more likely, maybe said puddy-tat just wanted a restocking of food, water, and ether. Either way, Plea is a terrific song, which I’m enclosing (in the style of Anne Almirall) for yer listening pleasures.
Lastly, there is happily something to be said for marrying a trumpet player, with a wicked cool record collection, who makes the best miso soup, while wearing bonus shoes. I like both my Boy Wonder and the idea of a life sans break-ups. Never again shall I be privy to slipping out the back with Jack. Nor shall I be hopping on a bus with Gus. Making new plans with Stan. Not needing to be coy with Roy. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…