Fuck You, or, The Beauty of Letting Go

Embracing "Fuck You" or, The Beauty of Letting Go

After I got divorced, I discovered a talent that I never knew I had.  I am fantastic at breaking up with people.  I am great at simply closing the door and never opening it again.  If breaking up were an Olympic sport, I would definitely medal.  I almost enjoy it.  In hindsight, I probably should have realized that I was going to be a good dumper since I was outstanding at firing people. The first time that I had to fire someone, my boss, who sat with me during the firing meeting, turned to me afterward and said, "Wow. I sort of want you to fire ME now." So apparently I had an untapped passion for severing people even back then.

I started sleeping with The Reddi Whip guy shortly after I moved out of my former house and my former life.  We were having a fantastic time.  When I needed him to come, I called.  He came.  Then I came.  It was the perfect situation for me at the time - great sex with a charming, adorable guy.  But after a while, I started to notice his interest waning.  He wouldn't respond to my texts as quickly, sometimes hours later. Seriously?  He wasn't as available to rush over when I wanted him to - planning and scheduling and "I'm having a crazy week" began to ensue.  You know the feeling, ladies.  The feeling that the rush is gone and you're yesterday's news.  But this time, instead of trying everything that I could in my womanly power to keep him around - my typical modus operandi for any relationship that I had entered into up to this point in my life - I had a revelation.  I thought, I CAN JUST BREAK UP WITH HIM.  I can tell him not to contact me anymore.  I can tell him I'm not going to see him anymore!  Because I'm not interested in having someone around who's half-assing anything, even if it is just great sex.  It was like a lightning bolt to my brain, like an infusion of heroin.  I couldn't break up with him fast enough!  I will admit that I sent him a very kind email.  I have since become much less kind, and I can do it in person, over the phone and via text, but remember at the time, I was still grappling with a way to harness this newfound power.  So I sent the kind email, indicating that while we had had a good time, it was now over, and that he had been lovely and have a nice life.

I've got to tell you, it was liberating.  I didn't send anything else.  I didn't send a text asking if he got it, I didn't call him drunk one night asking if he was upset, or wanted to see me again, just once.  I just, as I mentioned, closed the door.  It was all very neat and tidy.  I'm not going to kid you and say I didn't have some weak moments when I was lonely and I really wanted to text him to come over, just one more time, but ultimately, it allowed me to focus my energy elsewhere.  It was the first time in my life that I thought, you know, I'm worth someone wanting me, even if it is just for great sex.  And if they're not excited about me, that's ok.  But it doesn't mean I have to spend my valuable energy trying to force them to want something that they don't, or be someone that they aren't, or do something they are "meh" about. Ultimately, someone else will come along that does want to be around me and fuck me senseless.  And that's worth way more to me than a guy who can barely be bothered.  So say it, girlies - Fuck You, Dude. Then close the door.

- Rita

After I got divorced, I discovered a talent that I never knew I had. I am fantastic at breaking up with people. I am great at simply closing the door and never opening it again. If breaking up were an Olympic sport, I would definitely medal.  I almost enjoy it.  In hindsight, I probably should have realized that I was going to be a good dumper since I was outstanding at firing people. The first time that I had to fire someone, my boss, who sat with me during the firing meeting, turned to me afterward and said, "Wow. I sort of want you to fire ME now." So apparently I had an untapped passion for severing people even back then.

I started sleeping with The Reddi Whip guy shortly after I moved out of my former house and my former life. We were having a fantastic time. When I needed him to come, I called. He came. Then I came. It was the perfect situation for me at the time - great sex with a charming, adorable guy. But after a while, I started to notice his interest waning. He wouldn't respond to my texts as quickly, sometimes hours later. Seriously? He wasn't as available to rush over when I wanted him to - planning and scheduling and "I'm having a crazy week" began to ensue. You know the feeling, ladies. The feeling that the rush is gone and you're yesterday's news. But this time, instead of trying everything that I could in my womanly power to keep him around - my typical modus operandi for any relationship that I had entered into up to this point in my life - I had a revelation.  I thought, I CAN JUST BREAK UP WITH HIM. I can tell him not to contact me anymore. I can tell him I'm not going to see him anymore!  Because I'm not interested in having someone around who's half-assing anything, even if it is just great sex. It was like a lightning bolt to my brain, like an infusion of heroin. I couldn't break up with him fast enough!  I will admit that I sent him a very kind email.  I have since become much less kind, and I can do it in person, over the phone and via text, but remember at the time, I was still grappling with a way to harness this newfound power. So I sent the kind email, indicating that while we had had a good time, it was now over, and that he had been lovely and have a nice life.

I've got to tell you, it was liberating. I didn't send anything else. I didn't send a text asking if he got it, I didn't call him drunk one night asking if he was upset, or wanted to see me again, just once. I just, as I mentioned, closed the door. It was all very neat and tidy. I'm not going to kid you and say I didn't have some weak moments when I was lonely and I really wanted to text him to come over, just one more time, but ultimately, it allowed me to focus my energy elsewhere. It was the first time in my life that I thought, you know, I'm worth someone wanting me, even if it is just for great sex. And if they're not excited about me, that's ok.  But it doesn't mean I have to spend my valuable energy trying to force them to want something that they don't, or be someone that they aren't, or do something they are "meh" about. Ultimately, someone else will come along that does want to be around me. And that's worth way more to me than a guy who can barely be bothered. So say it, girlies - Fuck You, Dude. Then close the door.

- Rita

The ABC Theory

First, let me preface this post with a dedication: To my lousy (yet endearing and ever so enlightening) fucking male friend, who made Rita and I now question which “Girl” we are to the man-boys in our lives and realize that we aren’t the “A” girl to any of these clueless asses.  We thank you.

I met Girthy a few years ago while I was in my long-term relationship.  Girthy is a super cute, charming, eclectic guy.  We hadn’t talked in years until I reconnected with him a couple of weeks ago on Facebook (Damn you, Facebook.  That’s an entire post in itself!).  After some flirting, he texted me to come over late one evening.  After a half hour of foreplay followed by an hour of hot ass sex, I left.

Girthy: “You should stay the night.”

Stoney: “I have to get up early and don’t want you to have to get up on your day off.”  (Ah, the underemployed guy…weekdays off.)

Girthy:  (Smiling coyly) “Wow! I’ve never felt soooo used.”

Afterwards, I text him and tell him that I was quite impressed.  And then, outside of a few random and nonsensical texts, I didn’t hear from him for two weeks.

What the fuck!  Rita and I pondered this for a while (and if you have the answer, for fuck’s sake, fill the rest of us in): Why, after a night of seemingly great sex, would a guy not want a repeat?  I’ve made my intentions clear.  I don’t want to date the guy. I want to fuck him. It was good. It’s available. And there are no strings or emotions attached.  Perfect, right?

Anyway, two weeks (to the day) later he texts and requests my presence in his bed.  So, again, I go.  Again, it’s great! (At least, I thought it was great…and really, I’m what matters here, folks.  Let’s be honest.) There’s more to this encounter that gets really physically graphic, but we’ll cover that later too.  Let’s just say, I didn’t want to ride a bike or a horse for a few days after this one and leave it at that for now.  I spent the night this time, at his request.  I also informed him that I would like to do this more often than every two fucking weeks! I tell him every 3-5 days is far more appropriate.

So I wait a few days and text him one rainy afternoon.

Stoney: It’d be a great day for you to come spend the afternoon in my bed.

Nothing.  A few more days pass.

Stoney: Got late night plans?  I’m thinking Round 3 is in order.  (Yes, I realize I should’ve given up when I got nothing in return before…but I needed to get some. I’m not going to lie to you.)

Nothing.

He was deleted from my phone for lack of response - it is vital for me to remove the temptation to text when I am drunk or just drunk on horniness - and also deleted for just being a dick in general.

So I run an edited version of all of this by a married male friend of mine and ask for his thoughts.  He looks at me in this strange ashamed way and we have this conversation:

Married Male Friend (MMF): Are you sure you want to hear this?

Stoney: Fuck yes!  I’m so over this and don’t have feelings for the guy.  I just need to know what I’m up against for future reference.

MMF: (Again, with the ashamed face) Well…it’s likely that Girthy has an ‘A’ girl. She’s the girl he wants to date and be with and fuck but she doesn’t want those things from him.  She’s likely wanting someone else too but keeps him around “on the hook.” And then, Girthy also has a ‘B’ and a ‘C’ girl.  Girls he keeps around to spend time with or sleep with, etc. ‘B’ is his second option always and when she’s busy he calls ‘C.’

Stoney: (Shiver.  I already know the answer here, but I ask anyway.) And I am?

MMF: (Ashamed faced coupled with silence.)

Stoney: Fuck.  Me!  I’m the ‘C’ girl.  Really?

Great. So as if we aren’t hard enough on ourselves as women, now we have to fight to not be the ‘C’ girl.  And no apologies here, but I AM NOT A ‘C’ GIRL.  Ok, well maybe I am, but only if he’s my ‘C’ guy.

The good thing about this lesson is that now I think in these sadly realistic terms (as  does Rita) when a guy isn’t calling or texting with more regularity.  But, on the bright side, it’s given me an amazing sense of clarity and empowered me to say “Fuck it. I’m better than a C. Consider yourself deleted!”

-the Fox

-boys in our lives and realize that we aren’t the “A” girl to any of these clueless asses.  We thank you.

I met Girthy a few years ago while I was in my long-term relationship.  Girthy is a super cute, charming, eclectic guy.  We hadn’t talked in years until I reconnected with him a couple of weeks ago on Facebook (Damn you, Facebook.  That’s an entire post in itself!).  After some flirting, he texted me to come over late one evening.  After a half hour of foreplay followed by an hour of hot ass sex, I left.

Girthy: “You should stay the night.”

Stoney: “I have to get up early and don’t want you to have to get up on your day off.”  (Ah, the underemployed guy…weekdays off.)

Girthy:  (Smiling coyly) “wow! I’ve never felt soooo used.”

Afterwards, I text him and tell him that I was quite impressed.  And then, outside of a few random and nonsensical texts, I didn’t hear from him for two weeks.

What the fuck!  Rita and I pondered this for a while (and if you have the answer, for fuck’s sake, fill the rest of us in): Why, after a night of seemingly great sex, would a guy not want a repeat?  I’ve made my intentions clear.  I don’t want to date the guy. I want to fuck him. It was good. It’s available. And there are no strings or emotions attached.  Perfect, right?

Anyway, two weeks (to the day) later he texts and requests my presence in his bed.  So, again, I go.  Again, it’s great! (At least, I thought it was great…and really, I’m what matters here, folks.  Let’s be honest.) There’s more to this encounter that gets really physically graphic, but we’ll cover that later too.  Let’s just say, I didn’t want to ride a bike or a horse for a few days after this one and leave it at that for now.  I spent the night this time, at his request.  I also informed him that I would like to do this more often than every two fucking weeks! I tell him every 3-5 days is far more appropriate.

So I wait a few days and text him one rainy afternoon.

Stoney: It’d be a great day for you to come spend the afternoon in my bed.

Nothing.  A few more days pass.

Stoney: Got late night plans?  I’m thinking Round 3 is in order.  (Yes, reader, I realize I should’ve given up when I got nothing in return before…but I needed to get some. I’m not going to lie to you.)

Nothing.

He was deleted from my phone for lack of response - it is vital for me to remove the temptation to text when I am drunk or just drunk on horniness - and also deleted for just being a dick in general.

So I run an edited version of all of this by a married male friend of mine and ask for his thoughts.  He looks at me in this strange ashamed way and we have this conversation:

Married Male Friend (MMF): Are you sure you want to hear this?

Stoney: Fuck yes!  I’m so over this and don’t have feelings for the guy.  I just need to know what I’m up against for future reference.

MMF: (Again, with the ashamed face) Well…it’s likely that Girthy has an ‘A’ girl. She’s the girl he wants to date and be with and fuck but she doesn’t want those things from him.  She’s likely wanting someone else too but keeps him around “on the hook.” And then, Girthy also has a ‘B’ and a ‘C’ girl.  Girls he keeps around to spend time with or sleep with, etc. ‘B’ is his second option always and when she’s busy he calls ‘C.’

Stoney: (Shiver.  I already know the answer here, but I ask anyway.) Which one am I?

MMF: (Ashamed faced coupled with silence)

Stoney: Fuck.  Me!  I’m the ‘C’ girl.  Really?

Great. So as if we aren’t hard enough on ourselves as women, now we have to fight to not be the ‘C’ girl.  And no apologies here, but I AM NOT A ‘C’ GIRL.  Ok, well maybe I am, but only if he’s my ‘C’ guy.

The good thing about this lesson is that now I think in these sadly realistic terms (as  does Rita) when a guy isn’t calling or texting with more regularity.  But, on the bright side, it’s given me an amazing sense of clarity and empowered me to say “Fuck it. I’m better than a C. Consider yourself deleted!”

-the Fox

Let's Review

Lessons from Rita and Stoney that you need to make sure you got this month:


Get yourself to the gym. You know you should be getting in at least an hour of cardio, 4-5 days a week. And yes, the guys there are hot, but be wary. They are also often narcissistic douchebags. But who doesn't want to look at a pretty narcissistic douchebag while you're sweating the vodka out of your system?


Get yourself a gay. Get a few. Gay men are lovely friends, sort of a cross between the support of your best friend and the brutal truth-telling of your mother. They are fiercely loyal and know what shoes look best with that sundress you love. They're a great sounding board for all of your dating madness and will be your biggest cheerleader, but will never compete for the same guys as you. Yes, we know - male perfection!


Guys like to be told no. I know that this seems contrary to anything that makes sense in the world, but men like to chase. If they think there's something that they can't have, it becomes their sole focus. Nothing seems to inflame a guy like being told no, except maybe being ignored. (The text equivalent of being told no? Radio Silence.) It may take some longer to get inflamed and start sniffing around, but they almost always do and will pursue you once you've expressed complete disinterest and delete them from your phone.


Men are like chicken sandwiches. Think of all of the grilled chicken sandwiches you've had in your life and look upon men in the same way. If a guy doesn't perk up your interest like the spicy and naughty Cuban sandwich or perhaps a giant tasty reuben (mmmm, thousand island dressing), that's ok. They have a use, they fill the void, and they keep you going until you can get back to that great Cuban place. The Cuban's a keeper, the chicken sandwich is filler.


If you wear anything Affliction, you are a douche. If you don't know this from personal experience already, you're welcome. It will be the best advice you hear all year.

Adventures in Texting - The "Friend" Guy

“That guy wears a big cowboy hat, but has no cattle.”

Preface: Cowboy is a friend I made at the gym probably about 5 years ago.  At the time we met, he was dating a girl he would later purpose to, marry and divorce (all in less than 2 years).   Recently single himself, Cowboy is trying to find his dating legs.  As you will see below, he possesses enough ego for about four men and even then we’d probably still end up having to cut their shirts off of them because their heads are so fucking swelled up.  To his great credit, he is gorgeous, he is ripped and shredded every which way til Sunday, and his Aryan/Adonis good looks are ridiculous by normal human standards.  However, Rita says if he didn’t have a dick, he’d be useless to society. 

Cowboy: Why did you skip dinner last night

Stoney: Cause ol’ whats-her-face didn’t text me until 5:30 and I had work plans and dinner already. My week is stupid.

Cowboy: So we didn’t eat until 8:30. We are more important lol

Stoney: I didn’t get home until 9 and had a friend at my house waiting on me

Cowboy: pish posh applesauce

(WTF!)

Stoney: You are allowed to simply say that you miss me.  I would understand.

Cowboy: Awh, Stoney, I need you like the desert needs the rain

Stoney: Ummmmm…that sounds sincere however I am fairly certain deserts only need rain with very little frequency…

Cowboy: Not true if the desert had rain all the time it would be a rain forest

(bordering on the dumbest text conversation ever at this point)

Stoney: Right but the plants and animals that live in the desert need very little rain

Cowboy: Fine whatever you didn’t even ask if I was ok from my wreck

Stoney: I didn’t even know you were in a wreck! You don’t talk to me anymore!

Cowboy: Some friend you are gosh, it was all over facebook

Stoney: Some friend you are…I have to read about your goings on on facebook!

Cowboy: I have a broken neck. I had a lot going on

Cowboy: ok my neck just hurts but I have an appt

Stoney: A lot going on?  Whatever…you’ve been hanging out with ol’ whats-her-face plenty.  I hope your neck is ok. I also hope that if anything serious ever happened to you that I wouldn’t have to wait for a facebook status update.

Cowboy: I did have to go to the hospital on a back board

Cowboy: You don’t come to my gym anymore to talk :P

Stoney: I shouldn’t have to seek you out.

Cowboy: Hey you skipped the last two dinners

Stoney: I didn’t skip them.  I had plans. There’s a difference.  I can’t do things last minute sometimes. Jeebs

Cowboy: Cripes lol Not my fault you moved and became too cool for folks from the northside

Stoney: Cripes indeed! I have to chase you around to be friends with you. FUUUUUCK

Cowboy: I’m a busy man Everyone wants Thor around

Stoney: I’m a busy woman. Don’t be a douche

Cowboy: I don’t wear Afflicition

Stoney: You don’t have to wear Afflicition to be a douche…believe me

(side note: if you are wearing Affiliction anything right now while you read this…I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re a douche!)

Cowboy: hahahaha You girls just can’t handle the awesome that exudes from my pours

Stoney: Pores* and no we can’t handle being in the same room as you and your giant ego. There’s just not room for all 3 of us.

Cowboy: That’s why the gym is so big. Jack*, Bill* and I def had flex off yesterday, it was uber gay

Stoney: That sounds about right

Cowboy: Yup people were watching in awe

Stoney: No they weren’t.  They were watching and thinking “what a group of narcissic wanks!”

Cowboy: Nope They wanted to lick the sweat off of my ripping physique

Stoney: I give up

Cowboy: Why would you do that, bc you can’t beat me down like the rest of the weak boys you know J

Stoney: I wouldn’t call them weak.  I’d call them nice and selfless.  And I don’t beat them down…they come willingly. ;)

At this point, I just had to stop communication…I felt like my IQ was dropping significantly with each text and just gave up.  So unlike me, really.

*Names were changed to protect the innocent. Ok…well they were changed anyway…the innocent thing is totally debatable.