First Post

They say writing helps get things out.  By they, I mean the shrinks.  If nothing else I plan on entertaining myself and a few of my friends.  I know I wont find a wifey, but I might as well chronicle all the fun. By fun, I mean heart wrenching torture.  It does seem to make for some good stories.

I don't have time for a backstory on me, and you don't really want to read one, so we'll just get right into what's going on right now. (ok quick: 28 y/o average dude with an advertising artist job, single, living in the Jersey shore, nice guy, liberal, sports nut - you get the deal)  I got dumped last week - by e-mail - by a girl who I thought I was about to start a relationship with. Nothing new, except for the extreme briefness of the e-mail and the fact that she actually wrote "it is what it is"  A few e-mail exchanges later and we are officially done... but she has my hoodie.

Now the hoodie isn't all that exceptional.  It was only 25 dollars and probably made in China, which I strictly oppose, but man that thing is like my Linus blanket.  It's got that towel feel to it and it worked well with every pair of jeans I own.  And now it's probably on the bottom of her chair with the sleeves getting stepped on.  I could just cough it up as a casualty of dating - much like my sanity, almost every DMB CD from college, and my phone bill from the girl I dated in Ohio.  But I don't like the way we left things.  I'd like to see her one last time.  I want to show up to her Philly apartment and be all nonchalant.  Say a few last words and leave off with a wink and a turn of the back.  Maybe even flip my returned hoodie over my current hoodie James Dean style and then fist pump the air like Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 'Don't You Forget About Me' will be playing in my head and she'll wistfully think, "Damn he was a pretty cool guy... maybe I'll see him again sometime..."

What will more likely happen is she'll leave it out on the doorstep or I'll show up and she'll curtly say; "Here. Ok I'm in a rush, gotta run - Take care"  I'll stumble over a few words and say "Hey!..um, don't be a stranger!" or another statement just as effeminate and then I'll awkwardly walk back to my car kicking myself in whatever testicles I have left, wondering why I even bothered.