So, I have one of those relationships where this guy (let’s call him Pete) and I break up every few months. We will go through these spells where we are madly in love and it is all constant emails and hugs and love and marriage, and then we both get a little bored and one of us pulls the trigger and breaks up with the other. Just like that. Six weeks on, three weeks off, and this has been going on for almost two years. And when we’re on, it’s so serious that we basically move in with each other, so he has the key to my place and vice versa.
At various times when Pete has dumped me or I have dumped Pete, the dumped party will go way out of their way to try to win the dumper back. Long hand-written letters, surprise gifts, thoughtful voicemails, you get the picture. On three occasions, and all in the past year, I have gone even farther, ascribing to the theory that if he can’t have me, he will want me more. So, the first time, I decided I was going to go to Argentina for Memorial Day weekend. So, I call him at work, and I’m like, “Hey Pete. Not sure what you had in mind for the upcoming holiday, like whether you thought we’d be back together by then, but anyway, I bought a ticket to Buenos Aires, and I’m going.”
So, I go, and the food is great, and I call him weepy a few times from the hotel and when I come home, things are better. We’re in love again, we have a great summer, and then bam, August hits and we’re both like, “gosh, I have only a few summer weekends left, not sure I want to be monogamous this month, let’s see other people.” Seems like a great idea at the time, except that I keep seeing him out, but I am alone and he is actually seeing other people.
So I take my Memorial Day plan a step farther, and this time I say, “Pete, not sure whether you were thinking of taking an end-of-summer vacation, but I can’t take one with you, even if we reconcile, because I just booked a trip to Tibet.” And, the worst part is, I actually go.
This time, instead of being in BA, which is like Miami but farther, I end up flying 20 hours to the edge of nowhere, pass out from altitude sickness on my first day there, make myself eat yak meat and disgusting food, and just generally be repulsed by this beautiful, but not at all fun place to visit. And of course, while I am there, I call him, tell him what a wonderful time I am having, how enlightening it is to be in Tibet by myself, the clear air, the Buddhism, blah blah blah. We get back and have this amazing fall.
But by New Year’s Eve, we’re both at our wit’s end with each other--again, and we decide that another “break” is in order. Mind you, by this time, we don’t even bother to return each other’s things when we break up because we both realize that it’s a temporary situation. He keeps my key, I keep his, and his drawer full of stuff stays at my apartment. You get the picture.
So come late January, I am feeling pretty tired of being alone, and I am thinking to myself, “Where can I go to get this relationship back on track?” And so this time, I casually mention Rwanda, but in the end, I book a round trip ticket to New Delhi and take off by myself. By the time I land, I realize that this little game of brinksmanship has gone way too far. Not only do I find myself in a country where animals run wild in the streets, but I get the worst dysentery imaginable in a country that has yet to discover toilet paper.
Again, I call him, tell him what a wonderful time I am having, how at peace I feel in India. This time, he is not biting. He does not budge one bit, does not admit that he misses me even a little. He has had enough of my weird running off. So what do I do? Of course, I extend my trip.
By the time I get home, I have lost ten pounds and my clothes are falling off me, and although I genuinely did enjoy in India, I realize that as I am perusing travel brochures about Antartica that this little charade has run its course. And so, I am hovering over my sink, sobbing about my sad plight, scrubbing the diarrhea stains from my underwear, when in he walks. With my key. He came back! And we are still dating today. But eventually I learn that while I can win him back with all my exotic travel plans, the problem is that I actually wind up going to these places. And yes, I am a better, richer person for having experienced Argentina, Tibet and India, I realize that I actually like taking the trips alone better than I like hanging out with Pete. So, the moral of the story is that . . .
See, the difference between me and most other comic writers is that absolutely everything I tell you is 100% the truth. I am not making this stuff, nor could I.
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