Dategirl
Two years ago, I dumped my fat-assed, pot-smoking, emotionally retarded boyfriend and packed myself out the door. Despite the breakup, we maintained an acquaintance for a while; that is, until he got himself a new sweetie, packed his own shit up and moved to places unknown.
Okay, so I admit I might have been a little too neighborly with him during those critical "just dumped" months, but we both had ruffled nerves and some serious bills to sort out. But when he left, he did not give me any info regarding his whereabouts, just an email outlining what he still owed me monetarily and a vague promise to pay sometime after his 2002 tax return came back.
I wasnt satisfied with that reassurance. After going to his family and friends, I finally got a phone number and had a quick, nasty conversation with the girlfriend. I was warned (in no vague terms) to never, ever call that number again. Hed pay me when hed pay me.
Now its later, and I still havent seen any money. I want to take this guy to court, and I have bounteous legal grounds. But hes also getting married to said sweetie who, in all fairness, didnt do anything to bring a pox down on her house. I feel incredibly uneasy being so aggressive at such a bad time, and about that emotional statute of limitations that says if Id really meant it, I wouldve done something by now. And yet
Im ambivalent, in the correct hair-tearing, gut-wrenching, Freud-approved meaning of the word. Dategirl, what do I do? Suck it up? Or kick his lily-livered shit down the block?
–Deliberating Libra
There is a price to be paid for dating losers. In my case, it was a few hundred bucks total, spread over two neer-do-wells. Both times I tried like hell to get them to act like upstanding citizens and honor their debts, and both times I was met at the door with the resounding sound of silence.
But really–they were mooks when I dated them; what would make me (or you) think theyd suddenly morph into men once given the heave-ho? If anything theyd have even less motivation once the gravy train left the station. After all, now they have to pay for their own beer! The horror!
Like you, I tried phone calls, public confrontations and pestering, but after a while I gave up and accepted that the $300 or $400 was a sort of dum-dum tax. Or payment for a class I hadnt known I was taking, called "Who Not to Date." (A course Im now well-equipped to teach. Are you listening, Learning Annex?)
You dont say as much, but youre probably also cranky that hes found some willing bimbo to marry while Im guessing youre still single. We always imagine that these jackasses suddenly transform themselves once they move on. Newsflash: They dont. All thats changed is that hes now some other broads problem. Good riddance.
Unless were talking an amount that you absolutely cannot afford to lose, Id let it go. If you absolutely positively need to get in one last dig (an impulse I shamefacedly cop to understanding), you could always send the happy couple a wedding "gift" in the form of calligraphied scroll absolving them of the debt. If nothing else, itll certainly give them something to talk about on their honeymoon. A honeymoon I venture to guess will be charged to her credit card.
I met this guy way back when I was a freshman in college. We got in touch recently and went for drinks. Hes 37, so a tad older than I. (Im 22.) Anyway, one thing led to another, and I didnt end up going home.
So here I am, totally doing the walk of shame–walking from Le Parker Meridien to the office with my tail between my legs.
The thing is, unlike my other one- night-stand-type deals, I feel amazingly guilty about this one. I think its because I actually kinda sorta like him. Not like I wanted to date him, kind of like, "God I wish he liked me and would respect me but now he obviously doesnt because I fucked him on what was our first date!"
Anyway, later that morning he shot me off a smartass email. I replied, joking around about the walk of shame. And hes all like, "That would imply that you regretted what we did–did you?" and I was all like, "No, Im a big girl now, totally know that there are consequences to my actions. No regrets."
I asked him if he had regretted it, and hes like "Yeah, I kind of do regret when I move too fast."
So being the smart whippersnapper that I am, Im all like, "All you wanted was a 22-year-old piece of ass, and thats what you got Whats to regret?"
Umm yeah, and thats when he never responded.
He did send me an email yesterday (only one vs. our normal exchange of about 20 billion while bored at our respective desks) totally ignoring what I had said, and giving me the synopsis of his weekend.
Then last night, while Im online, he IMs me, and when I ask him how he is, hes all like "horny as hell."
I just dont get it. Im thinking he wants a fuck buddy. And I actually am okay with that, if thats what he wants. What do I want? Easy answer: David Duchovny. But I assume we all have to settle in life.
I obviously dont want to settle down, cause theres no reason for it. Im 22, and living in New York, not Arkansas. But I would like to know that Im valued as more than an interactive blow-up doll. Did I blow it?
–Perplexed
Im all like, 37 is way too old for you, honey. This geezer is seconds away from sprouting ear hair and hemorrhoids–you should be with someone whos as young and cute as you are. That hes dogging someone he met when she was 18 indicates to me that youre dealing with an emotional retard. If its any comfort, youll be too old for him by the time you hit 25.
Write [dategirl@nypress.com](mailto:dategirl@nypress.com) or Dategirl, c/o New York Press, 333 7th Ave., 14th fl., New York, NY 10001.