Mood:
sharpNow Playing: Mendelssohn, Elias
Topic: dating dilemma
Hello Darlings! By now you are fully immersed in the excesses of the Holiday season...but what about that other season that coincides with the end of year festivities, with the birth of our Lourdes? It runs from Thanksgiving to Valentine's Day...I am of course, speaking of The Season of the Douche.
What?! You've never heard of it? Oh Darlings, please. It is an annual phenomenon during which creatures, usually hideous exes, usually men, crawl out of their caves and "touch base" with unsuspecting humans. If you don't have any hideous exes then you can borrow some of mine. To be fair and accurate, some of these offenders are more hideous than others. Some are merely pesky, misguided, nostalgic or clueless and some are bottom-feeding pond scum.
Speaking of bottom-feeders...I'll have to get back to this tangent in a minute.
Though it is an annual event, the Season of the Douche always takes me by surprise. Maybe it's wishful thinking that, finally, a year will pass without some poor dating decision coming back to haunt me...I guess I still have some karma to work off, because they (the aforementioned douches) keep coming back.
I have already discussed the occasional, unwelcome reappearance of these creatures in "All My Exes Live in Texas". During the Season of the Douche, it's like the crypt has been opened and all the zombies feel compelled to make an appearance a la Thriller.
With the advent of Facebook (see the Good, the Bad, and the Facebook) it is easier than ever for cretins to harass unsuspecting women. During this past Season, the bad news was brought to me via FB from two offenders. They just had to reach out to me. Why? Good fucking question.
The first, who we'll call Matt, sent me a friend request with a note: "Hey, it's great to find you here." Um, what? Your douche-itude was established 5 years ago. On what planet do you think I would be happy to hear from you? Delete. The second sent me a friend request with no note. I didn't recognize his picture. Not because it was blurry or "artistically cropped"- the face simply did not ring a bell. Additionally he has a very generic name, we'll call him "Mike Robinson". I couldn't place him. I ignored the request. Then I received a separate e-mail: "Hey, it's Mike, how have you been?" Creative, witty, non? The A-ha moment arrived, immediately followed by the "Smirk of Disdain". That joker?! Why in Lourdes' name would I want to be in contact with you?
These two are only minor-league douches, but still annoying reminders of a lapse in judgement. In Thai, there is a handy expression which translates to: "I don't want to remember." Yes, Darlings, I'm talking about selective amnesia. Cousin to denial, I believe selective amnesia can be a helpful tool in maintaining one's sanity - have you seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? They were definitely on to something!
Through my investigative reporting, I have learned of other distasteful happenings during the S-O-D. One recently divorced friend was subjected to douchey (read: unnecessary) communication from her eunuch of an ex-husband. He probably thought nothing of "reaching out", but this contact sent her into a tailspin. "Why, Miss O, why did he call? Why now!?" He's a douche. Period. The end.
We have previously explored the concept of reanimation and as before, I welcome your insights. I understand nostalgia, but not if your shared history ended on a sour note. Yes, Miss O has a very good memory. To wit, I recently received a note from an old sweetheart - we haven't had contact in 15 years. My douche-detector tells me that it is a simple, friendly greeting devoid of sketchy intentions. Lovely, fine, nice to hear from an old pal. I accept. But, if my last words to you were: I think you're a fucking idiot. Then, no, I don't want to K.I.T. Ever. In this lifetime or the next.
A final cautionary tale in which the ugly underbelly of FB fully reveals itself. A dear pal of mine, Miss S, received a friend request from a hideous ex. Their story had not ended on good terms. Naturally, she was incensed. I know the guy. In the light of day, he seemed normal but his douchey potential was lurking just below the surface. There was no note with the request (unacceptable) so she clicked through to his profile. Why had he suddenly reached out? She arrives at his page to find that he has blocked all of the pertinent information except for the fact that he is now ENGAGED. No, no, no, no, NO! This is why women become crazy. He didn't have the balls to tell her himself, he led her to find out through his FB status. She called me, raving, " Why?! WHY?!". Repeat after me, darlings: He is a DOUCHE. Sometimes it's that simple.
I have friends who struggle with closure at the end of a relationship. They want answers, explanations. They consider meeting with their hideous ex to search for meaning. They ask themselves: could I have done anything differently? They go over every conversation. Was there a red flag that was missed? Darlings, more often than not the answer is found in a single syllable. Ever noticed how douche contains the word "Ouch"? Coincidence? Not likely.
Have you been touched during the Season of the Douche? Please share your heart-warming/horrifying story!
