Remember that movie The
Breakup? The very stock, very one dimensional,
early 2000’s film about a couple who lost interest in their relationship
because of personality differences?
Remember that movie? It was marginal,
at best. But we still watched it anyway. After all Jennifer Aniston is really likable
and Vince Vaughn is hilarious. Not
particularly in this movie. But overall,
who didn’t want to see a movie with two of Hollywood’s most desirable
darlings? Anyway, the premise of the
movie, obviously, was a breakup. As you
watched the story unfold, you couldn’t help but like each of the characters
less and less. They both acted like
children. They both acted like
assholes. There was no “side” to
choose. Both Gary and Brooke were
jerks. The movie was a bust. They weren’t funny. They had no chemistry. They didn’t get back together, but the end,
when they passed each other on the street, we had some hope that they would reconcile
and live happily ever after…
There were so many flaws in the movie. Just as there are in real life
relationships. They aren’t always
funny. They aren’t always romantic. There isn’t always a definitive outcome. Maybe that’s why we watched The Breakup. Maybe we watched it because we all know how
breakups shake up your world and shift your direction. We
probably watched it because we feel overwhelmingly connected to people and
relationships that will never meet societal expectations. We want our own fairy tales to validate our existence. Unfortunately, fairy tales do not exist. Neither do perfect relationships.
After I started writing, I would sit at the wine table with
my girlfriends and talk about our lives and our loves. I always giggled and said “When I publish my
memoir, it’s going to be titled WHAT
HAPPENED TO MY PANTIES!?!?!?” They
would laugh and say: “Oh Angela. Whatever did happen to your panties?” I would tell the stories about cute boys and
late nights and really relatable moments that, for all intents and purposes,
should have led to the most remarkable love stories in the history of
humanity. But instead of love stories, I
only got breakups. Not only could I not
find my panties, expensive panties, but I couldn’t find a lover worth a damn, either.
There were men. Many
men. The bar guy. The boat guy.
The emotionally damaged guy. The
borderline personality guy. That one guy
who was a marginal lover, but was psychologically unamendable. The
guy who wanted me to have all of his 19 unborn children. I lost a lot of panties. Good panties. I had
a lot of breakups. Weird and unexplainable
breakups. Each one sent me to a darker,
more unmanageable place.
Because of these breakups, I felt dismal and
insignificant. I felt lost and
lonely. I felt sad and empty and I knew
it was all my fault. I just knew that
losing men (and panties) was going to be my lot in life. And that’s how I’ve been feeling. That’s how
I’ve been living. Feeling less than
adequate; living in mediocrity. Until
recently. Recently, I experienced the
most influential breakup of my entire life.
I just broke up with myself.
I broke up with the girl who really like damaged men. I broke up with the woman who never felt
secure or empowered or worthy. I am
broke up with the idea that a man or a job or a house will define me. Because I am smart and funny and pretty and I
have really great shoes. More than that
I love more than I should. I laugh at
any expense, appropriate or not. When it
comes to the heart, BIGGER is always BETTER.
Always. So, I will not regret the
men I have loved who haven’t loved me back.
I won’t be shamed by remaining stagnant when I should be growing and
moving. I will no longer punish myself for
laughing and smiling. I have a life to
raise and a child to enjoy.
So, yeah. I’m
breaking up with myself. I’m letting go of bad sex and low self-worth. Life
is more than lost panties and hurt feelings.
-Inner Peas
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