Breakups, Fortune Cookies and Writing a Wrong

Men and women are not so different.

If you agree with the above statement- read on. If you don’t agree with it, go watch Jack Reacher. Fast forward to the bathroom fight scene, it’s awesome.

Now, this isn’t to say there aren’t major differences going on. (The survival of the romantic comedy genre depends on it.) We’re different in that women love wine and we love beer . . they love Orange is the New Black and we love sports . . they love shoes whereas we love beer and sports . . they love Nicholas Sparks whereas we love beer and sports and Nicholas Sparks jokes . . they love Dr. Oz whereas we need to have plenty of beer in us just to discuss his show. So . . yanno, there’s plenty of difference happening in the battle of the sexes. And dammit if the dames didn’t leave us licking our wounds at the end of the last century with the Bradshaw Conflict. They had Carrie and we had Terry. Game, set, nail polish.

If you don’t agree with my painfully simple generalizations, go read Fifty Shades. Skim through to the bathroom fight scene, it’s awesome.

Arguments and breakups are where the sexes tend to join ranks- not in agreement over the particulars but in the overall assessment that romantic relationships can send our verklempt-ometer to DEFCON 1 quicker than just about anything on Gore’s green earth . Our prisms beckon differently but our trajectories are nevertheless parallel on this count, at least in the immediate aftermath.

Me and my gal pal had a tiff recently. I am not going to enlist a point for point on it since I am of the belief that personal shit should only be broadcast on video surveillance cameras (Yes, that’s a shout out to Jay-Z. Go Brooklyn!). Let’s just say it went stupid faster than Shia LeBeouf in a yoga class.

Here’s a ‘lil music mash-up that perfectly describes the temporary euphoria you experience when you walk away from a love thing whilst believing you were right to do so. Be warned, this quirky hopefulness is soon replaced with every single fucking Morrissey song. And wine. Hopefully you don’t live in a high rise when the twain meet . . .

Anyways, while I was breaking up with ‘me lady- and before I realized I wasn’t really breaking up so much as tripping the light phantasmagoria- I had a little time to spare. So I asked the cosmos to provide me some answers. If not for Chinese restaurants, I might still be waiting for a sign. And here is why the men of mars and women of venus ain’t so different after all. Because when push gets to shoving on matters of romance, we run to fortune cookies and advice columns- ignoring the fact that the former are made in Hoboken while the latter really need to be.

I take fortune cookies quite seriously because I have this idea that you should search for life’s answers with the innocence of a child. And so here’s what mine said:

You were right! I would high five you but I’m a fortune cookie wrapper. Reward yourself with a weekend of porn and more Chinese food. And remember, you are the man! 

Okay, I took a ‘lil artistic license with the fortune. If you’re curious as to what it really said? Oookay . . .

You will die alone. 

Since when did fortune cookie writers get all Sylvia Plath? Chill fortune cookie writers . . . chill.

Seriously speaking, arguments, tiffs and break ups are not a zero sum game, to be sliced and diced in neat little units of sameness. So what did I do with all that pissed off energy? Well, I cursed lots- or, even more than usual. I ate a shitload of junk food and chased it with maniacal runs, yep, so I could curse even more. I even tossed with calling up Vera Farmiga to see if she was ready to run away with me, but I decided it was better to have that conversation in person. Yanno, so I could introduce myself.

And then, right in the middle of all that pissed off energy being loosed like Charlie Sheen dollars at a strip club . . my gal pal called. And then, we turned the tiff into talk and we came to understand that there may be a thousand different ways to connect with a person in this day and age, but a voice still matters most.

And then I said something that vaporized all the pissed off energy I had been carrying for days on end. A simple proclamation to which all that mattered was the here and now, not the then and gone.

I was wrong.

It’s amazing, the alchemy that happens out of three little words; the crazy dichotomy of feeling so completely right about admitting you are wrong. Admitting such a thing may not be ergonomically designed to provide comfort to your prideful posture, but guess what? It’s free. And it’s more liberating than the Expendables in Latin America. So as far as romantic advice goes, I would stick with Fleetwood Mac and fortune cookies. Keep company with the former when things go wrong and crunch up the latter when a certain someone is smiling up the seat across from you.

If you don’t agree with my romantic advice, you should have been checking out the bathroom fight scene from Jack Reacher by now. With nachos and cheese. And beer. But okay . . lazybones, here it is.

And you really didn’t think I was leaving Venus out of my end tap, did you?

 

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21 thoughts on “Breakups, Fortune Cookies and Writing a Wrong

  1. Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?

    Will it matter 100 years from now?

    Those questions have saved my sanity and marriage more times than I can count.

    Always good to see you Cayman!
    Christy

    • Christy- I owned wrong and I’m happy to say I owned my wrong.

      I have to tell you….that post Mama wrote on Running? It was so incredibly powerful that I was sitting here reading it, crying and nodding my head and probably looking a lot like Linda Blair on steroids.

      Now I’m going to go for a run, play some tennis….and then camp out in the blogosphere later because I’m having even more fun than those soccer heads in Brazil. And yeah, I’m a stateside soccer head . . cannot get enough of the stuff.

      Great to see you Christy. I’ll be over later on to read you, can’t wait.

      • Ha, funny you bring up Linda Blair. The Exorcist was on the other night, and while I didn’t watch it, I remember Tweeting with you while you watched it for the first time. You were saying something about synchronicity in your Words comment … I still don’t always understand it, but I do think we cross paths with some people who have certain shoes to fill in our lives, undoubtedly.

        Hope you had a great run and enjoyed tennis. And I hope things smooth (smoothed) over with your girl. If not, there’s still time. Or maybe you each had certain shoes to fill for each other. Whichever way, you know I wish you the best Soul Man. And yes—that Mama post on RoS? Wow. Like you, I don’t think Michelle knows how good she really is. And she’s still digging…

        • Running- Yes! I remember that! And yes…I faced that fear and owned it. Okay..if Linda Blair’s Hydish side is listening, I’m just kidding. I agree with you about meeting people who have certain shoes to fill in our lives. I like that.

  2. Can you teach my husband those three little words? Seriously, I don’t think he has EVER said them. (And, yet, we are still married. 27 years this August 1st. Go figure.)

    I can totally relate to the Happy/50 Ways mashup. I have experienced that 360 degree twist of emotion so fast and so often I’m surprised I’m not able to rotate my head in a full circle by now.

    Glad things are on the upswing again.

    p.s. How on earth did I forget about that bathroom fight scene? Violence tends to make me squeamish, but even I loved that particular fight scene. Classic.

    • Mary- I’m afraid if I tried teaching your husband anything, we would resemble a couple of squirrels with peanut allergies. I really enjoyed Jack Reacher. As much as I love making fun of Tom Cruise, the dude busts it in all his flicks. I never imagined I would’ve been a fan of the Mission Impossible movies, but I am. That bathroom fight scene cracks me up every single time.

  3. I use “I’m sorry” a lot since I usually am sorry. You know how it goes; mud feet on the couch; melted ice on the floor, forgot the milk, too much writing, not enough selling. I think I will hit the Chinese joint and score some behavior mod predictors. Nice post. Enjoyed the fight scene.

  4. Hi Cayman!
    Did you hear me squealing all the way in KS when I saw your WP notice come across my Twitter feed? I’ve missed you!
    What a fantastic read. Whether you believe it, you have this whole woman thing figured out.

    My husband avoids ALL phrases in sets of three and prefers pentameter (“See, I told you so” or “Don’t do it that way”).

    That said, his “I love you” looks like the days he loosens the nozzle on the water hose because I can’t get it off myself and his “I was wrong” looks suspiciously like the flowers he picks me sometimes after a tiff.

    I’m hoping that life is less bumpy these days for you and that any porn, wine and Chinese food you’re partaking in is in the presence of your lady 😉

    • Mama- If I had a dollar for every time I made a woman squeal….well, I would owe someone serious money. But it’s nice to know I was missed by my Kansas contingent. I will have to check out what you said on Twitter…and #thank you.
      And go easy on your guy. He’s most likely suffering from the same affliction as most guys of a certain age do. We thought Fred Flintstone was a sage, the Fonz was plausible and Gloria Steinem was just kidding. It’s in our DNA to be clueless, and if it were any other way…Keanu Reeves wouldn’t be possible.
      As for the porn, I really don’t understand it. I mean, I love the music and all, but the story lines seem kinda unrealistic.

  5. Great to see your post in my in-box. I’m not out and about in the blogging world that much because of Summah and the kids ah home.

    It’s a big-ass deal when a man can admit he is wrong. I wish it weren’t so, but that’s the case in my experience. I try to teach my son how important it is to own our mistakes, and so far, I think he’s got it. At least, he gets it bettah than his fathah!

    • Hey Bahstan- It’s nevah easy, admitting ya wrawng…..but hey, if the Sawx can reel off three world titles in nine season after going o-fer the last three quarters of the twentieth century, then anything is possible. Seriously, it’s nice to see you and it’s nice to see you are working another novel. You’re an honest, talented voice and I’m thankful to have you in my blog circle.

  6. I had a fortune cookie once that said, “you like Chinese food.” It was right.. Damn those cookies lol.
    I’m glad your lady friend and you are over your tift.
    On a side night I like wine but I LOVE beer. 🙂

    • Sara- It’s so cool to see you here. Glad you took my advice and cooled your heels some (You DID take my advice right? Okay…probably not.) And yes, I am with you…..I like wine but beer is my happy place.

  7. Dude … you were right that Jack Reacher fight scene, I forgot how funny it was 🙂 But you know what dudes and chics are different and not just in massive ways, in fortune cookie ways too. But when breakups happen and the guy actually cares…because I’ve met some who really don’t but when they do care…then he hurts just like women hurt. Sad. Angry. Drinking and wanting to kick ass like Jack Reacher. We all hurt when our heart gets broken, but I am happy that yours was not and that the tiff was just a tiff and that you talked it out. I don’t know a lot of guys that say “I’m wrong,” when they’re actually wrong. It’s rare and like a unicorn and you my friend are a badass awesome unicorn and I hope there are no more tiffs that lead you to Happy & 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover theme song. Hope your well … sending you good vibes and glad to hear from you 🙂

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