So I have this problem. I like to recycle. Not like paper goods or water bottles or anything like that (though I do that too). No, my urge to recycle has nothing to do with geopolitical matters, Al Gore or rising sea levels. It pertains to the serious affliction of recycling boyfriends. I can’t help myself. Perhaps there is a cure for this illness but I have yet to find it.
This problem manifested itself as early as my first serious boyfriend, so you can see how endemic this disease truly is. He wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he was pretty good lacrosse player so I will refer to him as Dislaxic. I remember I invited him to visit one weekend during college (meaning he would stay in my room… with my two eccentric roommates of course!) thus causing my then boyfriend, the Uber-ex (see below), to freak out. I didn’t even hook up with Dislaxic, nor did I want to. I just wanted to bask in the glow of his flirtation for a little while. Being the highly competitive person that I am, I suppose I just wanted to reassure myself that I was the hotter, happier one and that he “still had a thing for me.”
Unfortunately, these urges have since devolved into a veritable spiral of self abuse. In fact, just this past December I hooked up with Uber-ex (who I hadn’t dated for nearly two years and who DUMPED ME ON VIA THE INTERNET…but that’s a story for another day) and - of course - I managed to get my feelings hurt. Why can’t I leave these people alone? But on the other hand, why do they keep responding to me? Surely, this is part of the problem as well.
Now I’m in the throes of getting over a round three breakup with Eyebrows (see below regarding my trip to Peru). And yet part of me whishes I hadn’t dumped him and is seriously questioning my ability avoid crawling back (in part because I know he will have me back). Without someone to smother me with attention, I don’t know what to do with myself. And I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way. If you don’t happen to live with your best gal pal and spend every waking second together, odds are good you missed getting attention from someone, having a conversation with them after work, watching incredibly crappy Bravo programs together. Is this what leads us to recycle?
It seems that despite our most arduous efforts to resist, we just crave the conquest of boys – even if it’s a reconquest. In fact, I think to some degree we are all doomed to be a bit like Elaine and Puddy from Seinfeld; perpetually breaking up and getting back together just as opportunistically as we may have met in the first place.
I had always sworn I would not be one of those drama queens…you know, the kind who run out of the bar crying every time they see a guy they may have hooked up with at some point stroll in with another girl (yet, drama queens seem to end up making out with said boy again by the end of the night). We all have a little bit of that in us though – for better or for worse. So how do we cut down on our recycling?
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