I can now say I know the exact feeling that Carrie felt on Sex and the City when Berger broke up with her on a post-it note. In the sixth season, she wakes up to find a post-it stuck to her Macbook screen on her desk reading the following:
“I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me—“
And so her relationship was over. Through a POST IT.
No other communication from him. She goes to bed one night, he’s there, and the next morning she wakes up, he’s gone, and there’s the post it. I love the way that episode ends. She hits the vase of pink carnations (which were argued in the episode are terrible flowers to give someone, but she loves them anyway) he gave her and they go flying across the alcove studio apartment and the vase seeps water slowly onto the hardwood floor.
Oh how I wish I had a vase of carnations to spill onto my apartment floor right now. Men are the worst. Even grown men. I’ve heard they’re immature until they’re about 30 years old. I’ve hung onto this statement, trying to believe it, thinking that maybe in about eight years or so I’ll finally be dealing with a man who is “mature.” Well, that is, if I continue to date people my own age. But, without giving away too much info, let’s just say that I have successfully now dealt with someone who is older than the supposed “mature” age, and it turns out—THEY’RE NOT!
So, as previously mentioned, I have officially bought two tickets to Tom Petty’s tour because I cannot and will not go to this concert alone. However, I am finding that I am alone in my absolute adoration for him and his music. Which is so sad to me. In any case, I sent a simple text yesterday, despite my beliefs on never texting a guy first (that’s a whole other post I’ll save for later) and I simply asked, “Do you like Tom Petty?” What I received in return was quite similar to that post-it note—
“No. Not a big fan. I am sorta seeing someone. Sorry.”
And so it ends. Over 30 years old and this is what I receive. Areyoufreakingkiddingme.
Burn. I feel so burned. And rejected. And lousy. How I wish I had something to knock over to symbolize the weight that message carries. A loaded text message is what it was. Ending relationships, no matter how fun, serious, or unattached you actually are—has reached a new low. Anyone else that has been through an ending through a text, post-it, or perhaps a BBM message knows the feeling. We have stooped to a lower level I’m sorry to say.
Despite having three “DTR” conversations in the last week, the “relationship” stayed as status quo. Nothing but “fun” as agreed by both of us. Two completely 100% emotionally unavailable people are “having fun.” (A total recipe for disaster, I know) Now, I receive this response from him. Well, I am going to spend as much time mourning this ceasing of “fun” as he did ending it.
Okay I’m done.