things i've learned from men who've dumped me

Taking my inspiration from this week's book review, I decided that today it's my turn.  And so, I share with you three hard-earned lessons gained from the men who've dumped me.  Take them to heart and treasure them well, ladies. (As always, all names have been changed to protect the guilty.)

Lesson #1:  You can't force someone to love you, but trying is a surefire way to end up in the clink. 

Ben was my first love.  He was tan, blond, gorgeous and painfully shy.  We were in the 1st grade and I  - who was the opposite of shy - was smitten.  After months of pining and staring and frustration that offering him sips from my juice box and sniffs of my Mr. Sketch scented markers had yet to win me his love, I decided it was time to force the issue.  Literally.  I elicited the assistance of Amy, who, the victim of a poor diet combined with an unfortunately early growth spurt, was easily twice the size of anyone else in my 1st grade class.  Taking advantage of the predictable post-recess chaos, hulking Amy pinned down my love so I could have my way with him.  I stole my very first romantic kiss from Ben while he wriggled in fear in his tiny little flip-top desk.  And it was magic.  That is until immediately afterwards, when he broke down in tears and alerted Mrs. Smith, a woman who is surely a candidate for the meanest 1st grade teacher to ever walk the earth.  Thus, the day I had my first kiss was also the day I earned my first detention, and the old adage is again proven: you can't make him love you.  With the proper muscle in your corner you can, however, make him kiss you.

Lesson #2: Beware the ego inflation that comes from giving a rejection-prone boy his first shot at love.

After the Ben debacle, I took a much needed break from kissing boys, a break that ended in the 9th grade with Billy.  I was new to town and Billy was sweet, helpful and non-threatening, which was exactly what I was seeking at the time.  He was also extremely cute, so imagine my surprise when one of his buddies - genuinely astonished at my not-so-subtle inquiries - explained to me that Billy, a sophomore, had spent his entire 9th grade year getting rejected by an endless string of girls.  Apparently, Billy had enjoyed a bit of a growth spurt the summer before his sophomore year, however his reputation as a puny, undesirable freshman had not yet caught up with his new size.  Taking confidence in the knowledge that my competition was virtually non-existent, I made my move on the bus ride home from our regional marching band competition.  Billy became my boyfriend on that bus ride, and remained my boyfriend for exactly 24 hours - the time it took for him to figure out that he can finally get girls now. Eager to put his new skills to use, Billy dumped me in a perfunctory and poorly-proofread letter.  The next day he was dating Jenny, a week later Michelle, and a month later Sarah.  And all thanks to me.  I had not yet learned not to overly feed a starved ego.  Always keep 'em a little hungry if you want to keep 'em at all, is my point.  (Not that I really wanted to keep him, mind you.  Dude played the clarinet for Christ's sake.)

Lesson #3:  Never trust a boy who wears leather girl pants.

You'd think this one would be obvious, however not to me at eighteen.  What muddled the issue was that Sam was Australian - a trait that made him nearly faultless in my eyes.  So maybe he shaved his armpits. So maybe he liked to wear my nail polish and stole a spritz of my perfume from time to time.  So maybe he liked to accompany me on trips to the mall where he would occasionally buy things from the ladies' department.  And so maybe he danced a bit too well for a straight man.  What of it?  He's European, sorta!  All that is allowed!  Plus, he looked really, really good in those size 10 silver faux-leather pants from Express, especially when we'd go dancing.  (Dancing in gay clubs - did I mention that?)  What I'm saying is that although I was devastated when he dumped me via email on Valentine's Day, I can now look back on that cold, dark day as a blessing in disguise.  A quick MyFace stalking reveals that he's currently married and living in Australia.  For all I know, had he not dumped me I very well may have become the woman who married herself a closeted gay man, although one who looks like he can still rock a pair of leather girl pants.