Confessions of a Crazy Ex - A letter from S

I received an email from "S" the other day that went like this:

“I never thought I would be a crazy ex but it just happened and I didn’t realize until after. Basically my ex started seeing another guy a couple weeks after we broke up but she’s clearly just using him for hook ups because he’s going to be leaving May 16 to go to the military and she’s only known him for about a month and Snapchat has wonderful thing that you could see peoples locations. I saw she was at his house for hours and I got upset and started sending her her location and saying “how could you” and “I’m never going to be your friend”. And all she did was just block me on Snapchat and then Ignore me. So the next day I went to her college which is about three hours away for me to apologize and I bought her a rose and when she saw I was there when I knocked on her door she didn’t answer and I waited for hours for her to show and during that time she started blocking me on Instagram and Facebook and she wasn’t answering any my messages. Until she sent her friends to tell me to go away and go home. I didn’t do anything else after that but send her a message saying that I was basically they are to apologize and she was making me look bad by not replying to me. I know this sounds crazy but I just wanted to get a second opinion on how bad it is?”


Operational definition : Crazy Ex
A person whose actions, triggered by a the emotional fallout from a recent breakup, go above and beyond the normal response to save a relationship that has already ended. In other words, doing entirely too much.

As with all undesirable behavior, the first step to addressing it is to identify it. It is very positive and encouraging that you have self-identified that you may have gone a bit batshit here. While that does not make any unstable behaviors acceptable, it will go a long way towards making sure that you don't repeat such mistakes. Saying I'm sorry does so little in the real world of adults to heal emotional wounds. The most important piece of advice I give anyone is don't be sorry, do better. Words really mean very little in the big picture, but actions really do speak volumes.

You don't want to be on... either side of this really.

Now to address the reason why you wrote me, let's breakdown the tape, so to speak.  I think you already know what your first and biggest mistake was here; staying connected on social media. HUGE MISTAKE, but you have probably realized that by now. The entire point of social media is to let you know what someone else is doing at all times, whether they want you to or not. When you break up with someone, it is your responsibility to block them IN ALL WAYS POSSIBLE. I cannot stress that enough. You must be swift, thorough and you must not hesitate. And we all know what happens if you hesitate; if you hesitate then you will become dead Marine. That's what they said in Full Metal Jacket, and I'm fairly certain that's relevant here. She blocked you, and once that happened any possibility of a future relationship with her, in any form, was gone. Block first if for no other reason than it feels good to quit rather than get fired. Trust me, I know what it's like to unintentionally glean information about an ex when you really weren't trying, which is why you have to be diligent about protecting yourself from any unwanted revelations.

We live in such a connected age you will find things that remind you of her everywhere. Here are just some of the places you have to block her; Google, Gmail, LinkedIn, Facebook (obviously) Twitter, Instagram, SnapChat, Spotify, Gchat, Messenger, everything. Clear all of your browsing data. Erase all search history. Erase and block not only her phone number but the numbers of all of her friends and anyone who may know how to reach her. You have to protect yourself from future you, because at some point future you is going to be drunk, or tired, or lonely, or all three, and will want to try to contact her and you have to take away all of his options. An undervalued facet of any breakup is protecting yourself from yourself. You had two weeks to burn all bridges. If you had done all of the blocking immediately, you'd have saved yourself a lot of time, heartache, and gas money. If you haven't done so yet, please burn everything (figuratively speaking) immediately.

The next error you committed is in reconstructing her motivations for her current actions. It is none of your business what (or who) she is doing now, and here's why; how is anything you learn going to help you? It doesn't matter if she's seeing this guy for sex, for a relationship, or for paving her driveway (not a metaphor.) There is no scenario where you knowing about her current activities works out well for you. Look at this from a cost/benefits analysis point of view. You and her are newly broken up, and one of the ways people cope with breakups is by hooking up with someone else immediately. A human mind in the midst of a breakup is a terrible thing; it will only replay the worst outcomes over and over, and the longer you dwell on your ex the more your perceived reality will conform to fit your fears. You have to save yourself from inquiring into her new life not for her, but for you. The best motivation to mind your own business is to avoid further pain. The chances are high that she won't be doing anything you're happy about, so why put yourself through further grief? On the surface you may say that you're trying to reach her out of guilt or to apologize for some offense, but really you are just looking for an excuse to see her again. By the way, a good way to figure put if you're engaging in obsessive ex-boyfriend behavior is if anything involving your ex takes “hours.” You knew she was at his house for “hours”, you drove for three “hours”, you waited outside of her dorm for “hours”. Nothing involving an ex should take more than 5 minutes, long enough to curse them out one last time or just say goodbye forever. Anything longer that that and you are probably straying into crazy territory.

Not knowing that you were out of control is a real thing. In my personal experience, there were many times that I didn't know that I was being crazy until after it was over, which is why it is very important to have someone in your life who is boring. A completely boring, average person is absolutely essential to the life of an emotionally adventurous person. Whenever I'm very upset about something I have friends that I talk to before I act just to make sure that my response and level of emotional excitement is proportional to the stimulus. In other words, I have people to tell me if I'm overreacting. We all need a point of reference for “normal” so we don't go off and do something stupid, kind of like a lighthouse in a sea of madness. When we are operating in a heightened emotional state, it becomes difficult to think rationally. Some people's neurons are wired so that their logical thoughts are interconnected with their emotional impulses in such a way that they literally cannot think straight when they're upset. If you don't have a person like that in your life, I highly suggest going to a therapist. In fact, go to a therapist anyway. I cannot overstate how important a good therapist can be is providing you with unbiased insight into your behavior.

Let's review; she blocked you so block her on everything. Engage and feel your feelings, remember they're your feelings and it's your responsibility to resolve them, not anyone else. Block her on everything. From what you've written you did go full crazy ex, but you can pull back before any more damage is done. Work on healing you. Read this article that goes into more depth on why breakups hurt so much. It helped me to know that a lot of the pain I was feeling wasn't heartache or missing love, but stupid brain chemistry. Good luck “S”, and remember; everything RomComs tell you is a lie and they should all be burned.

The Utter Collapse of Western Movies

To be honest, I'm not a movie person. This is not to say that I do not have movies that I like. I have a fairly large movie collection, full of movies you have never heard of or never seen. Most of my favorite directors are either dead or extremely elderly. Also, a lot of movies I like most people consider to be dreadful. I haven't seen many Hollywood staples like "Rocky" or "Top Gun". But even I have noticed that Hollywood is on a losing streak of unheard of proportions. This year has been one enormous yawn on the movie front. I can't remember a period of months when absolutely no big movies have come out. Think about it, have you really looked forward to a movies since Expendables/Scott Pilgrim/Eat Pray Love weekend? Absolutely not.

And we go. We still go. Well I should say you go, because I don't support that crap. The last movie I saw was "The American" which wasn't exactly a blockbuster. I know that it seems like a George Clooney Spy Thriller seems like it would be pretty damn hard to mess up, but they found a way. They did so by producing and directing the entire film in Italy, land of moody, morose, and macabre movies. "The American" will forever be known as the movie so moody they gave out Zoloft at the door instead of 3D glasses. That picture up there? Clooney is aiming for the audience's Joy. They chose to release it in the Summer, when people want fun movies! The damn movie started in the Winter! Any joy and good feeling the audience had when going into the theater was definitely assassinated by the time they left.

So what does Hollywood have planned to bring us back? Sequels out the ass. I for one am glad for the sequels because I would rather see that than take a chance on something, ahem, "original" from these people. And for me I see no difference between big studio movies and indie movies. At their heart most "indie" movies follow similar tropes just like the big movies do. Indies movies are all heart and emotion and guts and tugging on heartstrings. There are very few indie movies that are straight out action films, and I know you can say that that's a function of budget, but really that is just a cop-out. It can be done, see "Black Dynamite". As with everything connected with the film industry, the creative people just are not trying hard enough. I know people who are beginning filmmakers, so I am under no delusions about how difficult it is to make a movie. It's slightly less involved than planning an amphibious assault against an entrenched enemy fort. Still, whether the budget is $120 million or $120 every crew has a responsibility to the public to put out the best product possible, and that just isn't happening.

This has been a depressing movie year in many senses of the word. Along with "The American", the year started out with "The Lovely Bones". Anyone see that? Well don't if you are having a bad day. Or have children. Or ever plan on having children. The unintentionally funny commercials for "Extraordinary Measures", "I ALREADY WORK AROUND THE CLOCK", got more attention than the movie did. "Repo Men" repo-ed the plot from a previous movie. "Kick Ass" made me angry and sad for reasons none of you will understand, and it just goes on and on. This was the Summer of disappointment and, except for Harry Potter, it looks like the rest of this year is going to be blowful as well. I wish that we would all just boycott Hollywood for a month. One month if we all got our shit together the quality of movies would increase substantially wouldn't it? Ah, it's fun to dream.

Asians Need to Be More Angry

There's a sight I've seen way too many times at comedy clubs lately, and I'd like to share it with you. Maybe I'm overreacting but it always helps to get a second opinion. I always cringe when I see Asian people sitting up front at a show because I know they're going to be in for a long night. Every comedian has a few go-to jokes when things aren't going well, or just to bridge the space between jokes. Some people go for fart jokes, and some work the crowd. Comedians know Asians are easy targets because A. everybody seems to laugh at Asian stereotypes, B. most Americans don't actually know anything about Asians or Asian Americans, and C. Asians never stand up for themselves. This never happens with Black people in the audience, unless the comedian is supremely confidant or supremely stupid. The average comedian won't just up and come after a Black audience member, especially if there are a lot of Black people in the audience because, well, we don't play that. We are known to destroy a persons whole character onstage, and sometimes continue it in the parking lot after the show. Seasoned comedians can insult a Black audience because they know how to temper their jokes with truth, or be somewhat self-deprecating at the same time. Above all else, a joke making fun of a Black audience has to be funny.

Too many times I've seen comedians make tired, old, cliche, unfunny jokes at the expense of Asians just because it is easy and because the people in the audience usually respond. I know for a fact that Asians, Indians, Africans, Latinos don't like being confused for one another. It's a sure bet if you call every Latino you meet Puerto Rican, you are taking your life in your own hands. But comedians, and people in general will often refer to every Asian person they meet as Chinese, which really pisses off anyone who isn't Chinese. Asians, like all other races, have their intra-racial stereotypes that cause them to like or dislike each other, and it's pretty insulting to just assume anyone Asian is Chinese, as China is not exactly the most popular country in Asia. Likewise, people who say "oh they're all the same" are just ignorant and useless. On this night in particular a couple of Filipino girls sat up front, and I felt so sorry for them, as many of the comedians used them for every Asian stereotype joke possible. They stoically sat there and took the abuse, but in the back I was angry for them. I have Filipino friends and a Filipino ex girlfriend, so I know a little about the culture. The comedian went on making stupid jokes about eating dogs and things like that. I was offended 1, because those are Chinese stereotypes, not Filipino, and 2, they weren't funny, just insulting. I always say, if you're going to be a racist, be an Informed racist. Have your stereotypes straight with your ethnicity. The #1 rule of making racist jokes is that they have to be more funny than offensive. As the night went on she admitted she knew nothing of them or their country (admitting to ignorance is a personal pet peeve of mine) and kept referring to them as "pinos" which I'm fairly certain is a racial slur. Other comedians came up and made comments making them out to be subservient Asian sex toys, talking about the, ahem, restrictive properties of their uterus and other things that I can only imagine were mortifying for them. All the while I became more and more angry because I thought about what it would be like if those were Black girls, even if that could and would never happen to Black girls. The mostly White audience, of course was eating it up, but I and many of the other comedians just seemed to feel uncomfortable. These were people who came out to an Open Mic and were being supportive, they didn't come there to be insulted. Especially not insulted in an unfunny way.

I feel I should say I am far from against insulting the audience, especially if they deserve it. I am all for making crude and offensive jokes at the audiences expense; this is something I hope to become better at myself. But I think that it should always be done with a sense of humor, and when those people go home they should remember the night fondly and want to come back another time, no matter how badly they got dissed. I feel like those girls had a horrible time, and I hope that they will look past that night and give comedy another chance, just not in the front row.
My point is, Asian people need to act a fool every now and then. Say what you want about Black people, but it's generally accepted that, much like Werewolves and Robert Bruce Banner, it is not a good idea to make us angry. I feel like if Asian people got angry more often, White people wouldn't take such liberties with your culture. I know it isn't very Asian to make a fuss, but there are plenty enough of you who are first and second generation Americans on the East Coast now. You are well aware of how to show your ass when somebody pisses you off, just like a Real American should. To be quiet and respectful is un-American. The next time somebody asks you if you eat dog, make them eat dog shit. The next time somebody asks you if you sucky-sucky, tell them to suck yo dick, bitch. The next time someone makes slanty-eyes at you punch them in the face repeatedly until their eyes stay that way. You have the inalienable right to be an Asshole like any other American, so use it.

Except for Indians. You guys are big enough Assholes as it is.

Like Urination for Precipitation

If you aren't familiar, there is a saying that goes something like “do not piss on my head and tell me that it is raining.” I am quite familiar with this situation because many times in my 3 decades of life I have had people unzip from above my head and subsequently warn me of coming thunderstorms. One of the most pernicious of these bamboozles is the “we can be friends” lie. For a man, and for most women, being put in the friend zone is the kiss of death; there is absolutely no worse fate than being banished, “It's a Good Life” style, to the Friend Zone. (If you don't get the reference, look it up; it's an excellent episode of the Twilight Zone). Like that episode, being banished to the Friend Zone is a cold, horrifying, soul-crushing event from which there is no return. When you have been sent there once your main goal in life is to never be banished there again. But I, for one reason or another, keep finding myself in that particular cornfield time and time again, each time through another hilariously convoluted series of events.

I believe that I have been sent to the cornfield more times than most, because I have a particular personality trait that predisposes me to leaving myself open to getting “rained” on. I have an impossible to ignore need to fix people. Now don't get me wrong; I'm no Mother Theresa/Jesus figure. I would say it’s more of an ego-syntonic drive to do what it is that I think I do best; resolve people's psychological issues. I think that most people like to do what they do best, and I am a very good psychologist, regardless of what people may say. There's another component to this tragedy that I am not sure if I have complete control over; I have a penchant for meeting women who have recently hit rock bottom in their lives. This is a big reason why I have to fix so many people, because I seem to find so many people who need fixing. I'm not talking abut women who just broke a nail, I'm talking about serious, life threatening issues. Most of the time. Sometimes they are just girls who happen to date the same type of homicidal jerks over and over again but most of the time they are women with legitimate problems in their lives that I have some sort of useful perspective on.

If this is just some random cosmic coincidence then I suppose I can't do much about it. I've tried fighting against the immutable laws of nature before, and have always come out the worse for it. I'm tired of beating my head against a wall of physics. Another, less fantastic hypothesis is that I am subconsciously attracted to “damaged” women, which is a common affliction amongst some men. I have written before about my ”Hero Complex” and how I have a inherent drive to save people. What if there is a part of me that, when there is no one around who is in any acute danger, seeks out women who are broken, damaged, or are in acute danger, and insinuate myself into their lives? What if there is a part of me that looks for emergencies so that I can “save the day” and be the hero? Ask yourself these questions if you have a similar pattern of behavior, especially if you often find yourself banished to the cornfields. There is a direct correlation between befriending damaged people and ending up in the friend zone.

What is this connection? Well, I'll tell you. One of those immutable laws of the universe I spoke of earlier is the he or she who fights the battle never lives to see the fruits of their labor. Despite what 80's movies and video games have told us, if you enter the Castle and fight the Dragon in order to save the princess, chances are in the real world that once you do risk your life and do all those acts of daring do, the princess will then immediately hook up with your unemployed stoner roommate. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is reality. I have learned that whenever I fix someone, they inevitably run out and sleep with/fall in love with the first person they see that isn't me. I have heard stories from several men and women confirming this from their own experience as well. They have had cases where they have helped people to stop drinking, stop doing drugs, stop dating abusive men, stop dating crazy women, get jobs, go back to school, graduate school, etc. and when they finally help this person achieve their goal, they, as Kanye West said “leave they ass for a White girl”.

What I mean by that is whenever you put your heart and soul into helping someone out in life, the chances are good that when they reach that goal they will leave you for someone else, that is, if they were ever with you in the first place. Only very strong relationships don't break up when one person experiences a large change in life/status such as going from dug user to sober, or from having low self esteem to being a fully self reliant individual. The worst part of the banishing procedure is that the person who does it usually tries to convince you that it's a good thing, which is where the great lie about being rained on begins. Rodgers and Hammerstein could not compose a greater song and dance than these people do when they try to explain to you why the fact that they are essentially ditching you now that they are “better” and giving all their goodies to a complete stranger who had nothing to do with their recovery is, in fact, a positive experience for you. Some of them think that you should even be thanking them for it. They are effusive with their thankfulness. Here is an actual text I received in this situation;

“I adore you, you know that. Just not in the way you want me to. Anyway I think you're amazing and awesome and I hate that now things are probably going to be weird between you and I. I hate to lose you. You're the only guy who I've talked to consistently for a year. And I think that's because we never hooked up.”

And this, this is the part where the trickle of piss becomes a downpour;

“You should be happy, I let you in where other guys never get to go.”

Apparently that place she let me in is everywhere but her vagina. The crazy part is that this is maybe the 20 or 30^th time I've heard this speech in my life. I have the unfortunate luck to encounter women who believe that they can only sleep with men who don't care about them, and who they can't care about in return. This is, of course, lunacy. But a surprising number of women think this way. By the way, the above quotes are not doctored or taken out of context in any way. It took me a long time to realize that telling me it's a good thing that “I'm too special to sleep with” is not a good thing. It's piss disguised as rain. It's a sham, and after 3 decades I'm finally learning to grab an umbrella and step out of it. If you care about someone, and they are special to you, you should give them the greatest gift you can, which isn't “friendship”. Besides, what these people consider friendship isn't that, because the relationship is never even. The person doing the fixing never receives the same services in return. That person can never depend on the person they fixed for emotional support. The damaged person, by definition, cannot be a good friend because if they could they would probably possess other life skills that would have prevented them from becoming damaged in the first place. They are inherently selfish, and never ask about the “fixer's” problems. Therefore, the fixer is more of a tool to be used when needed than a true friend. In what way is this a tenable position for anyone? A true friendship is reciprocal, and these relationships are strictly one way. The friend zone is a lonely place, and no one ever has sex there.

So, if you are the type to be a “fixer” and you feel some trickles coming from the sky, ask yourself is this really rain I'm feeling, or something else entirely?

Let's Pretend

(I believe that this falls under the category of "free verse" not quite a poem. be gentle, I kinda of just vomited it up from my subconscious.)

Let's pretend that I took no for an answer. That I let the world beat me, that I never recovered from my mother being snuffed out like a candle in a stiff wind. Let's say that I never recovered from every time I got knocked, no, hit by a car, slammed to the ground, power-bombed and then had a piano dropped on me from three stories up. Let's pretend that I lost the fight with my own mind that I have had to fight every day of my life, the death urge that compels me to fail, to sleep longer and longer until I get to the day when I don't wake up. Let's pretend that I don't hear the alarm in the morning over the sound of my ribs cracking, over the sound of life kicking me again, of the sound of my jaw shattering and my teeth hitting the pavement like a packet of skittles, skittering across the ground. Let's pretend I was late for work because I was choking on my own blood and bile. God don't like Ugly, but he does not mind kicking you when you are down. He must enjoy that sound, the skittering, you see.
See the sideshow, let it begin, can't afford to pass it by, guaranteed to make you cry. See the boy who cried a million tears and not one hit the ground because his pride and his ego refused to let his pain go, so the heartache and the rage and the sadness and the frustration roam his wearied mind like hungry tigers consuming every but of happiness that should clumsily stumble into their path. So he cries on the inside and smiles on the outside and laughs at the cliches that suddenly make sense but don't shed any light and don't give any answers and don't provide any solace or comfort but never cease to miss a moment to destroy any chance at making a better life for himself and those around him.
Let us count the ways in which his heart has been broken, let us count the ways in which his heart has been denied, let us count the ways that he has let down and been let down, let us count how many times he has been told no. Let us see how many times he has been laughed at for daring to hope for something better, for asking for a woman who was never meant for him, for asking for a happiness that will forever be out of his reach. Be careful of the laughter, if you gather it up, all of it every smirk and smile and giggle that has escaped the Candy-Colored Lip-Glossed orifice of his oppressor, the sheer volume of derision would blast your consciousness away as cleanly and as efficiently as those poor souls who where firsthand witness to the splitting of the atom at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. You may hear the cracking, again, the crackling cracking, but it is not breaking it is burning, the singed sizzling away of what was once a human being.
If you were to look for my innocence, my hope, my childhood, my boyish charm, you would find no bone, no ash, no teeth, just a relief, a dark outline against a wall of where all of those positive things about me used to be, before they were destroyed by untold waves of heat, pressure, and light. Blasts from the Candy Colored lips of so many who spoke honeyed words that burned, most literally, like the sun, and left as much evidence of their passing by as a sun would.
Maybe if you looked up you would see those trees with their strange fruit swinging in a cold, ill wind. From the bows of the highest trees swing those things I once held dear, my hopes, my dreams, those things I wanted and want so much in life, hanging dead and decayed, lynched with barbed-wire nooses, by honeyed words and lies and half truths and good intentions. Well meaning diatribes and silences that were meant to speak volumes but instead were like thin steel spikes drilled deep into my living corpse, aimed not to kill but to cause the most pain possible. Steel spikes that never missed their mark, that slid easily, lubricated as they were by the aforementioned tears that I never was allowed to cry. Three swords it says, piercing my heart, but still it beats. Let's pretend that it didn't, let's pretend that my heart stopped and I gave up and I said yes, no, I know, I can't, you won't I'm not good enough, I never will be, I never was, Never will be good enough for you, Not White Enough, Not Jewish Enough, Not Skinny Enough, Not Stable Enough, Not Rich Enough Not Black Enough, Not Hood Enough Not dat Nigga.
Not
Not
Not
Not
Not.
Ever.
Enough.

Let us pretend. That I will never. Ever never be enough.

Let us pretend that I believed that.

That I will never be good enough.

Where would I be? Would I be anywhere? Would I exist? No I think not. So excuse me if I'm Pushy. Excuse me if I'm Arrogant, Creative, Cocky, Overbearing, Antagonistic, Demonstrative, Persistent, Persuasive, Loud, Random, Unpredictable, Uncompromising, Moody, Overwhelming, Intense, Subtle, Stimulating, Arousing, Destructive, Comforting, Seductive, Protagonistic, Heroic, Demonic, Erotic, Feral, Dutiful, Loyal, Reckless;
Excuse me, if I do not take your “no” and walk away quietly into that dark night.
Excuse me, in short, for being Me. Because this is the Me You made, This is the Me I had to learn to be to survive the world You made for Me. So enjoy Me, revel in Me, Because I Am Not going Anywhere. And if you cannot fathom that, well, You can always Pretend that things were Different.