A One-Sided Conversation

"Hey, man. I heard about what happened. It's really a shame."

"No, no--I mean, it's really a shame that you're not over it yet."

"Yeah, I think you're bitter about it..."

"What gave it away? Maybe the bitching. Hey, look--let me give you some advice. Just take a minute and listen, alright? You don't have to say anything, just sit back and listen. I want to help you out."

"Grow up. Sure, you didn't get your way, but there's no need to act bitter about your breakup with America, the beautiful. She decided to go with someone different. Dragging her new beau through the mud every day isn't going to make you look more intelligent--it's going to make you look like a tremendous douchebag. If you want her to get back together with you, you're going to have to figure out why you lost her. Since you still live next door, she and her new guy both agree that you should either come over or let them come over and talk some things out. (It's a little difficult to do that when you throw these tantrums.)"

"Don't blame her for your problems. You know, she left you for several reasons. You're generally pathetic. You whine about everything that goes wrong. You yell and fume about all of the other guys and tell her how horrible they are. Maybe she left you because she wanted someone that isn't such a whiny bastard. Remember that tree that fell into the garage? Yeah, you weren't doing much to clean it up. If I remember right, you and the new guy (you weren't really "friends," but drinking buddies at the time) chopped the damn thing down. Sure, he's not doing a great job cleaning up the mess, either--but at least he's trying. Maybe you could go help if you weren't so bitter about your loss."

"It's not the end of the world. Most of your fuming has a grain of truth, but it's hyperbole at best. You keep telling everyone that they named your old dog "Socialism," and you got really pissed off about it since it was YOUR DAMN DOG. Let's not get too hasty about anger, here--let's go check the dog's collar. What's his name? There's a little sticky note taped over the metal that says "Socializm," but it's in your handwriting (and misspelled). You keep complaining about how much rent costs and how it's going up every day, and it's going to be horrible for you over the next few years. Okay, let's take a step back--who owns the house? Apparently she does; you're paying rent on it. Okay, so how much is the rent? Oh...you mean it's actually going down for you? Do you think you might have been exaggerating a little bit? (It makes me wonder if your story about how she is taking over your medical decisionmaking is also a fabrication, but for the sake of breaking this metaphor, we won't go into that one.)"

"So...that's what I've got."

"What?"

"It wasn't helpful?"

"Well, look--I like the new guy alright. I don't despise him as much as you. Maybe you should-"

CLICK.

"Hello?"

*sigh*