If a cow ever got the chance...

On the way home from the laundromat tonight, I realized that I was a twenty-four-year-old woman who pushes her underwear down the street in a little cart with wheels. It was pretty funny at the time.

So I broke up with C. If you were on the corner of Randolph and Michigan last Thursday and you saw a pissy fatchick in an ill-fitting yellow raincoat, yelling at an infuriatingly smug long-haired guy wearing a hideous Dallas Cowboys starter jacket, that was me. (The raving one, not the smug one.) I don't seem to be able to do these things in private like decent people. [Aside to DNMNR: Wilder mailroom??? In the middle of TGIF? What the hell was going on there? I should just send a Dear John letter next time, even though etiquette supposedly forbids it.]

Anyway, I think it was a bad idea for several reasons:

I had a boyfriend who was meeting approximately 65 percent of my needs, or maybe it would be better to say my requirements for a boyfriend. 70 percent on a good day. (Yes, I know how self-absorbed this sounds. Can't help it right now.) Plus, we weren't making each other more creative by being in a relationship together. Or smarter, or nicer, or more engaged with the world. Kind of the opposite of all those things, actually.

So I decided that wasn't good enough. I deserve better and when am I going to start living my life blah blah. So we had our little fight in the middle of downtown and didn't speak for three days. It was really lonely. I have become fairly dependent on him for social interaction. (It's either hang out with him, or go across the street with my officemate to buy coffee, which we will then take back to the office and drink in our respective cubes. Quality interaction!) Then he called on Sunday and was all friendly, and I had nothing to do except go to the grocery store and chat up the teenage cashier, so I asked if he wanted to drive out to the suburbs with me and look for a couch at the trendy furniture place's clearance outlet.

Did you see us there? I was the pissy-looking fatchick yelling at the smug and excessively complacent longhaired guy over by the sales desk. Transpose everything else from the previous fight, too. Anyway my point is nothing has changed, nothing. We were friends, we sort of still are, so we try to hang out and everything is exactly the same, from the fights to the sex to the vague dissatisfaction, snide remarks and immaturity. I guess we should give it more time. Like a month or so. But then I feel this horrible gaping void, as though I have lost my beautiful friend who brought me vegan barbecue-roast sandwiches at work and goes shopping with me and listens patiently and calmly to all my offensive statements about how much I loathe my current relationship. Unfortunately he happens to be the other party in the relationship, so you see how this is a problem. But anyway, I miss my friend so I call him and he misses me too so we hang out and absolutely nothing has changed, except that now since we nominally aren't actually in a dating relationship, I am getting maybe 40 percent of my needs met instead of 65 percent and I can't find another boyfriend because no one wants to go out with a girl who has two-fifths of a boyfriend already, and I don't blame them.

You've gotta do the math before you jump into these crazy schemes.

I'm going to go to a Food Not Bombs meeting one of these days. Once I get my fucking medication to make me less scared of the outside world. Yeah. FNB gets grocery stores to give them perfectly good food that's a few days past its expiration date and they use it to cook vegetarian meals for homeless people. I think that is so cool, and as you can see, I could really stand to do something nice for my fellow humans since I have clearly lost all perspective on life and will undoubtedly come back in my next life as a small cockroach due to my lack of consideration for the feelings of others and inability to do anything that isn't self-motivated; for example, I only want to go to a Food Not Bombs meeting so I don't come back as a cockroach. See?

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