So I recently broke up with another boyfriend. They come and go so quickly! Ted and I weren’t together all that long. Six months, tops. And the poor guy’s only real crime in the relationship was that he bored me to death. But that was a totally good enough reason to end things. I think.
Ted is a poet. He only uses one name. Like Cher. And he’s a good poet I guess ‘cause he actually had a collection published last year and the reviews (he insisted that I read them all) were, on the whole, pretty darn good. But I totally didn’t get his poetry. Frankly, I don’t don’t get much of any contemporary poetry. If it don’t rhyme, I ain’t got the time. (See, even I can do that! It’s not that hard to rhyme!) Too bad we broke up, ‘cause Ted was sorta cute. And he was definitely not at all dull in bed. It’s totally true about the quiet ones. But being around otherwise monotonous people takes its toll on me. Not that I’m the most interesting person in any given room. Definitely not! In fact, I’m terrified of being a bore. But Ted even talked too slowly. “First you put the ATM card in the machine.” Wait five beats.“Then you put in your PIN.” Again with waiting for the paint to dry. I guess he was probably just carefully considering the words he spoke, but I never knew when he’d finished an idea or opinion and if it was time for me to jump in with a comment.
For a while I was really enamored of Ted, especially his writing discipline. He writes for hours and hours every single day. I admired his dedication. I’d probably be much farther along in my own career if I were as committed to the work as he is. But I can’t sit in front of the computer for more than a couple hours at a time without getting distracted. I start checking email. Then the news. Soon I’m buying cookbooks on Amazon. I don’t cook.
So I lied to you when I said that I’d broken up with Ted. I haven’t actually made it official because I hate confrontations! But it doesn’t seem to matter ‘cause he hasn’t called me in a couple weeks anyway. Not even on my birthday (not that he knew the day). I was always the one who had to call him to arrange dinners or theatre. Now I’m wondering if we really did have a relationship or not. Maybe we weren’t a couple in the first place. My bad. As the song says, “Breaking up is hard to do.”