Another One Bites the Dust

Another one bites the dust.

What exactly are we celebrating during weddings? Are we celebrating the fact that the groom managed to behave himself enough during the courtship to land a bride? Are we celebrating the bride who managed to avoid eating desserts so she could fit her wedding dress? Are we celebrating the parents who spent their life savings on an extravagant ceremony? Are we celebrating the priest who preaches to a new captive audience to increase his flock? Are we celebrating the photographer who got her first new assignment in weeks? Or perhaps it's to the retailers with who we bought the presents - they will make record profits selling things that will be re-gifted back to us next year.

No, we are celebrating love. Love. We are celebrating some warped and nicely packaged love that Hallmark and Disney have told us exist if we treat that special someone nicely. They gloss over the fact that people end up choosing spouses like they choose what to watch on television: it's the best thing on and the batteries in the remote are out, so they're too lazy to change the channel. They conveniently forget that the groom keeps a stack of Playboys in the garage and the bride still dreams of a past flame and carefully guards the letters he wrote.

So, I put on my best smile and try to live through this celebration. Didn't I do this already two years ago when they both got married to different people? Will I be doing this again two years later? Luckily this time I have a date this time around. Unfortunately, I have a date this time around.

"Don't you just love weddings," Karla fawned and looked about ready to cry. If she would just keep quiet, she would actually be kind of cute. Someone please remind me why I invited her. Oh, wait. It's less painful to hear her yammer than someone comforting me that even I – some slob without a clue – can find someone. What's worst than feeling sorry for yourself? How about having to pretend to feel sorry for yourself just to get away from someone’s advice? It’s difficult to take the stance that love sucks and is not for me.

"Oh, yes. Weddings are nice." What is a guy supposed to say to that question? It's just one of those canned automatic response answers that I've learned like: Are you fat? No. Do you love me? Yes. Is she prettier than me? No. Can we watch this movie? It's always some romantic-comedy or some artistic foreign film that makes about as much sense as an elephant on a unicycle. And always in the last 2 minutes of a tied football game. Sigh. Yes.

Did I just say yes? Oh, no, what have I become? I know I said earlier that Hallmark and Disney were evil for creating this idea of a true love that we all blindly pursue They must be in cahoots with Samsung and Sony. I doubt it will be in a survey answer anytime soon but I'm sure that 75% buy their televisions because guys want to watch football instead of something like Desperate Housewives.

Karla clasped her hands together and tilted her head in that way I first thought was adorable. It was getting old quick. She asked something that warranted a response from my automated response system. She then asked yet another question that demanded a response from the earlier described system. Does she just say things to fill in the space? If she were a character in a comic panel, no one would ever see her character. They would just see a lot of gibberish words in a bubble. Karla the word bubble.

I had to get away, "I'm going to the bar. Do you want anything to drink?"

She did that annoying tilt of the head. "Fuzzy navel please." I wasn't expecting her to actually ask for something. That means I would have had to spend some money to actually get away from her. Upon further thinking, it's worth it. I left with a bounce to my step that I haven’t felt all night and decided to take the scenic route around the dance floor.

I would not insult the word dancing by describing their actions as dancing. People were spasming along the floor. You would think with the same songs at every wedding they would get enough practice to at least look decent. Does every wedding use the same mix of songs for the reception? They should play "Another One Bites the Dust” How appropriate would that song be?

I bumped into a somewhat familiar face. I knew I should know her but didn't really know her. The name escaped me. "You looked relieved like you just took an enormous dump." Relieved? Oh, I was ecstatic to be away from Karla. We both heartily laughed. These were real laughs that come from the belly not like those laughs that sound like you're clearing your throat. I like this girl. She has a sense of humor, she has a great laugh, and she said the word dump.

And she was right. I did feel quite relieved like I just took a dump. Now, how could I continue this conversation as a follow up to toilet humor? "So are you a friend of the groom? Or the bride? Or maybe the photographer?"

"Actually, I know both Greg and Lexi. I had a hard time deciding which side to sit on. Since I could sit on either side, I sat on Greg's side because it looked like his side needed filling."

"Yeah, Lexi is quite the popular girl. She knows like everyone in the city. Once we were lost in the middle of the night looking for her car at the airport garage and we bumped into someone that knew her. And every time it seems we take the subway together she meets an old friend."

"I hear you. Hanging out with Lexi is like hanging out with a celebrity. Not sure how Greg landed her." I nodded in agreement. Greg was a bit of a loser. When he started dating Lexi, he really just became a loser asshole. Some guys are like that. They get a girlfriend and forget about all his buds and discard them like a used condom. They get a girlfriend and it triples their self-confidence. Perhaps, having to hold in the farts because of having to behave around a girlfriend makes a guy smarter. They should make that a study. I'll have to suggest that to my boss on Monday.

Speaking of jobs, I decided to ask her about her job. It's a nice, safe question to keep the conversation going and plus, more time away from Karla. She answered, "I'm an Exchange administrator."

"So what do you do? Make sure the exchanges between ransoms and hostages go as planned?"

She exploded in laughter. "Exchange is an email program that Microsoft makes. Sorry, I thought you would know. You look kind of a geek-ish guy." Was that a compliment or an insult? "Thought you might be some kind of IT guy."

"Am I walking around in some pocket protector or are my socks not matching or something?"

"No, you just look ... smart." Compliments are complicated. Usually, when someone compliments me, they're after something. What could she get out of me? If she wanted these poorly made pigs in a blanket that I was carrying, there were plenty of pigs swaddled in bread a couple feet from her.

Having nothing else to say, I just said, "You look smart, too." That actually sounded stupid. She said thank you and we just kind of stood there. A girl with a wonderful sense of humor standing next to me and I have nothing to say. In school they make me memorize all the Presidents of the USA and how to do long division, but how many times have I used this knowledge? Compare that to how many times I spend trying to talk to a woman that interests me. George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison ... how are you going to help me now? Do you think she would be impressed if I showed her how to divide 4,031 by 29?

Our eyes meet for a second and we exchange uncomfortable smiles. If I don't think of something to say soon, my eyes will probably drift toward her chest and that would be the end of this conversation. Thankfully, she came up with something, "So, your girlfriend looks kind of cute."

"No, she's not my girlfriend." Great. I paid to get Karla out of my mind and she becomes the topic of conversation. "I just needed a date and brought her along." Oops. Did that sound too harsh?

"Oh, I understand. I broke up with my boyfriend last week, so I had to go alone. Going alone to a wedding can really suck especially when you have an empty seat next to you. If no one knew, I would make up a story about him being sick but people ... they make me sick. When you need someone to watch your dog for a weekend, everyone pretends you don't exist. You break up with someone and it becomes headline news and people walk around you on eggshells."

I touched a nerve. I love to touch a nerve. Most conversations I characterize as tepid or flat. Personally, I find the niceties frustrating. We got entire worlds of conversations to talk about. Why do we talk about the weather? The weather is what it is. It gets hot in the summer and cold in winter. I get it. This girl became instantly more than just a pretty face with a sense of humor and a nice rack (yeah, I took a peek when you weren't looking). She became a real person.

"Well, I know what not to talk about. We could talk about your dog. What kind do you have?"

Her face lit up. Bingo. Dogs are really a man's best friend to get to a woman. If you find a girl with a dog, talk about her dog. Girls love to talk about their dogs. At first I thought of dogs as big furry cockroaches. But I learned to like to deal with dogs rather than the girls. Dogs are so much simpler and they never ask you to pick them up because they ran out of gas - for the third time that month.

Okay, she did say some stuff about her dog that um, I must admit I don't recollect. And unlike a lot of women, I won't bore you with the details. If the subject came up again with this girl, I would remember. Thankfully, school did teach me a helpful skill like looking interested in a speaker when you're thinking about something else. Or looking at something else. The best part of eating the pigs in a blanket was the view when I bent down to take a bite. It was juicy.

Oops, I didn't say that, did I? No, I said something like "AWWWW," at a perfectly timed moment in the conversation. I'm proud of myself.

"You don't want to see pictures of Cinnamon?" she asked with a pout.

"Of course I do. I was kidding."

She showed me pictures of her beloved dog while I made doubly sure there was no ring finger on my female target. She did have a ring on her right ring finger. I never understood what that symbolized because I have heard all kinds of various answers. If women in a relationship really did not want any advances from men, they would wear something in their chest area.

Cinnamon, the Chihuahua, was cute. I'll give her that. But all dogs are cute. Wow, do they have the life. They have the owner pick up their shit, they get to walk around naked all day, they can lick themselves, and they're always cute. No worries about having to doing chores or paying bills. If I get reincarnated, I want to come back as a dog.

In the meantime, I have to deal with my current incarnation as a male American. We have to deal with the cruel joke of losing hair on the top of the head while our beards get thicker. Women clamor for equal pay and treatment, but when was the last time you heard of a heterosexual man ever receiving a Valentine's or an anniversary gift? Is it even possible for a modern day woman to consider paying for the date instead of the man? If we can put a man on the moon, surely we can get a woman to pay for dinner?

Then we get ripped apart for opening doors for women. Tell you what, ladies. I leave the door open for the next person after me. Man, woman, or four-eyed Martian. I'm not demeaning your sex and that doesn't make me a male chauvinist. It's called being polite. For instance if someone has to move so you could pass them, then you say excuse me. Or you say, move your fat ass out of my way, if he's a friend.

Speaking of, I did check out Cinnamon’s owner's ass when neither of you were actually looking. Oops, I've scoped out this woman but I don't know her name. That might important. This actually does not bother most men. "So, what's the name of this adorable dog's owner?"

"I'm Natalie. And you are?"

"Lewis."

"Like in Meriwether & Lewis?"

"I prefer to call them Lewis & Meriwether. It has a nicer ring it, don't you think?"

"Yes." In sales, you learn to getting a person to say yes to anything, makes them more likely to say yes to the next question. The first question doesn't have to do anything with the second question. So, I figure my chances of getting Natalie's number just jumped a few percentage points. "I'm not a big fan of my name,” Natalie continued. “When I was growing up, kids always sang the Facts of Life theme song when I came around." It took a moment to remember there was Natalie on the Facts of Life show. She's the least memorable of the four girls. You got the Blair the arrogant bitch, Jo the tomboy and Tootie. Tootie is just a cool name. How does one get a nickname like that? Or did her parents just bestow her that name? "And some people just called me Tootie," she continued with more than a hint of disgust on her face.

Oops, and I was going to make a joke somewhere along that line. Now, where to go with the conversation? Oh, I got it. "Natalie is a pretty name. It's a little exotic hinting at Russianess (sometimes I make up my own words). I actually think of Natalie Portman." Nice. I wanted to give a pat on the back for that line. Plus, maybe this will open a segway into talking about Star Wars.

Unfortunately, our conversation was interrupted by Darth Karla. "There you are! Wonder what happened to you."

I found someone better to talk to than you, Darth Karla. "Yeah, sorry. Natalie here was just showing pictures to me of her Cinnamon." Ooops, that came at wrong. If was in the company of all males, we would get a laugh out of that but women were not blessed with that dimension of sense of humor. They were however blessed with a way of pretending that they like and care for someone even when they hate their guts.

Darth Karla oohed and ahhed over pictures of Cinnamon as well. If I didn't know Darth Karla any better she would look like a genuine dog lover but I knew she had a dark side. She gets jealous. She got jealous of me when I was talking to my 85 year old neighbor woman. I just find my neighbor fascinating because she runs every day and probably in better shape than me or anyone reading this book.

See? Men and women can be just friends. Diana was attractive back in the day that I do admit. I've seen pictures. Can I guy just enjoy the stories of an 85 year old woman who is more fascinating than some women a quarter of her age? She's always has a story of her travels because she had managed to touch six of the seven continents. She met the Dalai Lama, Queen Elizabeth and Jim Morrison (the last by far the most interesting), yet somehow doesn't let it go to her head. She’s down to earth with a crazy sense of humor. If you ever visit her be very careful of her cookies. She enjoys telling you - after the fact - that she put up diced crickets (which she learned to love to eat in Thailand) in the cookies and then watching everyone's faces.

Looking at Natalie and Karla's faces, they appeared to be great friends. Women are funny that way in that they can act like your best friend but secretly hate you. Since all women play this game and are so good at detecting lies that originate from the males of their species, I wonder if they know each other are lying. What do they possible have to gain if they both know they are both playing the game?

"Don't you just love weddings?" Oh, no. Doesn't Karla know how to ask anything else? Is there an "Attending Weddings for Dummies" book that instructs readers to say "Don't you just love weddings" to everyone you meet and as often as possible?

Surely, somewhere in the planning for weddings instruction manual, they must have a passage about dressing up the bridesmaids in the most hideous kinds of dresses. Is it to make the bride that much more beautiful? Is it just to make sure that the bridesmaids don't wear the dress again? It would bother me to own a piece of clothing just for one time use. I only have one kind of one-time use item for a specific body part of mine and I don't need to pay $1,000 for use of it. My doctor gives some to me for free.

"Don't the bridesmaids just look beautiful?" Gag. Oh, wait. That was Natalie that said that. Did I get the wrong impression of this girl? Or it could be that Darth Karla had some infected Natalie with her teachings? It's been observed that men when group together, they actually get dumber. Could that be true with women as well? I, of course, never observed a group of all women. When it’s all women, do they just walk around make fart jokes all day like us?

In the younger days, I tried to eavesdrop at a slumber party. Guys fascinate about pillow fights and seeing women in various night time garments. Instead I just watched women in a dark room watching cooing after a vampire (I think that was Angel the vampire back then). How am I supposed to compete with a fictional vampire? I don't like the sight of blood, have supernatural powers, and I like hanging out in full sun at the beach.

"The two of you make a great couple," Natalie said. Did I detect a little bit of a jealousy? Oh, I do hope so.

"Yes, we've been seeing each other for a couple weeks now." Karla leaned in closer to me. Get away from me, oh evil Sith lord! Instead I overcame the revulsion and put my arm warmly around her shoulder like the good boyfriend. I'll have to disinfect this arm later. "Who did you come with?"

Natalie sighed sadly. "I just broke up with my boyfriend last week. Caught him cheating on me." To my relief, Karla removed my arm from her and gave Natalie one of those Donald Duck hugs. Ya know, with the arms around each other but the butts as far part as each other. I hate those hugs because they look so fake. "You'll be OK. Guys are jerks. They suck." Hello? I'm right here. Oh, but I guess she's right.

"Hey, I got to go to the bathroom," Natalie said.

"I'll come with you. Can you hold my stuff, Lewis?" Karla asked again with that tilt of that head. Automated response on my part. If she keeps tilting her head like that, it might fall off one of these days. Maybe Natalie could reattach it in the bathroom.

Goodness knows what else women do in that bathroom. Why must they always go in groups? Is it something primal from when going out on your own to the bathroom and a wild animal might kill you? Guys of course doing #1 are standing up so nothing could sneak up on them. But what if they were doing #2? I haven't had an audience with me dropping a deuce since I was potty trained and I'd like to keep it that way.

In the meantime, I'm keeping a purse in my arms while the women laugh their way to the mysterious and exciting bathroom. What's the manly way to carry a purse? Is there a way? I figure the best way would be carrying like an enormous football. Even while carrying a purse like a football, there are certain things that just lower your masculinity. Perhaps, I could pretend to dig my way through the purse looking busy looking for keys, cell phone, or maybe just a toothpick. I could pull out various things looking somewhat disgusted and frustrated.

But that would mean putting down my plate of food. Should I put down the purse to put down food in my stomach? That was some mighty tasty shrimp. Should I just stand here waiting for the women to return? Or should I just sling the purse around my shoulder - like a woman? Now, I did have a look of frustration on my face.

Luckily, the purse was a hardtop and made for a perfect tray for my plate. I dare any man to find a more manly way to carry a purse. I ate away happily and watched the people pretend to enjoy themselves. If weddings are such joyous occasions, why does everyone depart after the wedding cake is served? Coincidence? I think not.

It's sad really. We all got enough on our plates why do we need to spend our evenings with a couple we hardly know or care about - and buy them a present to boot - to eat a sub par meal. I have to admit having 500+ delicious meals hot and ready to go could probably strain even McDonald's but McDonald’s could probably do it. Perhaps, they should they should just hire McDonald’s instead of caterers. Sometimes wedding caterers offer choices to the patrons but I get more choices on a freaking airline. There I could have choose from beef/pork/chicken/fish, vegetarian, kosher, or low-salt. And the food is actually hot!

How many times have you cut into a luke warm piece of meat at wedding? Or good luck if you prefer a rare piece of beef and you get a well-done piece.

And on an airplane, you don't have to make some crappy small conversation with your neighbor. I know the groom and bride try to make it so that they sit you next to someone with who you'll be able to converse with. But ya know, it just seems I always get stuck on the miscellaneous drawer of people. Perhaps, they just think of me as an amiable person that could converse with anyone. It's just my face. Some people have a face that makes you think that you know them. My face just looks like I'm attentively listening even though I might just be thinking of the next NFL draft that would help the New York Giants. Never draft a running back from Penn State.

Because, guess what? I don't want to hear about how awful your day is. I got enough awful in my day to handle myself. You should be thanking me for not venting to you. Trust me there are things about me you just don't want to know about. I like to bottle up my feelings. It would be the best for both of us and for the world.

I don't want our lives to become some Dr. Phil show. Sometimes, I watch Dr. Phil to make me feel better about myself because there are people with more fucked-up things going on their life. I watch football to get away from the real world. In football, the rules are simple to win: score more points.

Even the worse of teams have a chance to win any game. I'm destined to lose in every relationship. Not sure what the score is but I doubt I even scored a point. The first NFL defensive coordinator who hires a woman will win that Super Bowl. You thought the Purple People Eaters, Doomsday Defense, Steel Curtain ... they are names that scare grown football players to wet their pants. Can you imagine the terror wrought of the Scorned Woman defense?

Why do we play this game? I’m speaking of relationships here not football. We play football because it’s cool. I get a lot of advice that I need a girlfriend. I kind of think of girlfriends as boats. The second best day of the relationship is actually the first day. The best day of the relationship is the last day. Perhaps, I never felt true love. But wow, what a great feeling to escape out of a bad relationship. Those are the best and most memorable days of my life.

Yet still, people (almost always women) advise me that the key to happiness is a woman. Perhaps, the key to a woman's happiness is making a man miserable. Not really sure where they base their observations that men are happier in a relationship/marriage. I've seen guys in jail and they have the same look. At least in jail, someone else handles most of your chores and you're not pressured to hanging out with her couple friends.

Surely you must have got stuck with a couples date with a couple that bicker all the time? It’s just uncomfortable sitting at a table where people are screaming at each other. Or you might just get stuck with the couples that don’t openly bicker and nitpick each other the whole time.

Every once in a while, you find she is friends with a truly happy couple. I find the most likely reasons are that they are such morons they don't know any better - or they spend little time to each other they actually enjoy and LOOK FORWARD to each other's company.

Why is it when I get a girlfriend, I get a Siamese twin? Everywhere I go she has to follow. Yes, she permits that I can go out with just the guys ... but then makes me feel all guilty when I leave. Then instead, I stay home, we spend the night just talking our feelings. Well, she does the talking, I put on my ‘I’m listening face’ and I wonder who is going to start at right offensive guard for the next game for the Giants?

Humans have a knack for adjusting to their current circumstances. For instance, if they start making $1 million a year that becomes their new standard. Anything lower would make them miserable and so actually so would making a $1 million the next year. Happiness is doing better than yesterday and better than your brother-in-law. I have a brother-in-law and he makes my life miserable. You'll meet him later maybe. I might just spare you the pain. But for now, you're going to meet Karla and Natalie who are returning from their bathroom looking great. Well, at least Natalie is looking great. Karla um, isn't.

"You miss us?" Karla asked in her sweet high voice that irritates me like people who drive slow in the fast lane. Automated response.

"Oh, looks like we got here in time for the tossing of the bouquet," Natalie commented. Oh, joy. Another event of faux happiness. Single women are all looking for someone to push them into the ring so they don't look desperate. I shake my head at this display of faux wanting. Perhaps, adding mud or Jell-O to this event would make it more interesting. It's not like anyone's going to wear those bride maid's dresses again any way. And I bet you that a lot more guys would have stuck around to watch this show instead of just leaving after dinner.

People make me sick. People care more about some fictional TV character neighbor or a celebrity who wouldn't give them the time of day than their own. Now, tell me, how am I supposed to find someone to love from stock like that?

As they prepare for the toss, I disappear into the bathroom. Visiting the bathroom is a good ploy to avoid the garter belt toss. Oops, sorry, I was in the bathroom. Sorry, I missed it. I would rather enjoy the smell of human excrement than the bull shit garter belt toss. What's a worst reward than getting married? I'm proud to say I never won that contest. Last time I got stuck in a garter toss, I ducked so fast it would have made Jet Li proud.

Usually, some poor little boy who still believes in Santa Claus and Easter Bunny wins. Aw, how cute. It makes sense. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and True Love room together in the town home of Make Believe. When you get your heart and dreams smashed, you learn some things. You cry, too, like when you find out that Santa Claus is just a way that parents try to make you behave.

Is that what True Love is? Something they invented to get us to behave? Be good and Cupid will deliver you a beautiful woman for Valentine's Day. Instead, they just deliver to us a big bill and headache for Valentine's. It's a romantic day for some people. For us guys, it's a pressure packed evil deadline. If we manage to something decently good enough for one Valentine's Day, it just makes the next year's expectations that much tougher.

Tell you a little trick I learned. Get into a big fight before the big holidays - enough so that you are not on speaking terms. Instead of spending that money on an overpriced dinner, some random stuffed animal, some fancy named chocolate, and some insanely jacked up price on flowers; you could just spend that money and go to Vegas for the weekend.

"Garter belt toss time?" the uniformed towel-getting-guy-who-works-in-the-bathroom laughed. Seriously, what kind of job is that? I wonder how you could spice that up on a resume. Provided personal and sanitary devices to patrons?

Few moments later, a few more guys followed inside. Oh, I got an epiphany. Perhaps, women all run to the bathroom together to run away from something like we're all running away from garter belt tossing.

"OK, gentleman. I've been instructed to gather all the men from the bathroom back to the reception area. I know you're all hiding." He was an elder gentleman. He looked to be a kind gentleman. But he's still a guy. How could sell us out like this? He even opened the door letting Darth Karla and her clone army to drag us back. Traitor! Please return your penis to the man store, you don't deserve one.

I once read that penguins stand on the tips of the icebergs all doing their best to pretend to be the first one to dive in the water. The first penguin that dives gets eaten and all the rest are free to go. I looked around at the guys around me ... looking like a bunch of penguins with the groom playing the role of the sea lion.

The groom did some cheesy dance to get the garter belt. So, cheesy I won't even describe it to you, dear reader. See, I'm a good guy. Let me out of here. The garter belt removed, the groom (I refuse to even use his name anymore in this story) turned his back to us. Literally and figuratively. Greg - er, the groom - was a fun guy to hang out with beforehand. With a girlfriend, he was barely tolerable. I'm going to miss the person formerly known as Greg. Guys disappear into marriage to do couple activities - aka activities that the woman wants to do and the man tags along.

Then he goes along and become a father and the friendship falls apart. Besides not being the same guy he used to be, he then can only talks about things concerning his child. He loses his identity and just becomes little what's-his-face's Dad.

I like kids. I really do. I was one before. I'm grateful for my parents for placing me on this Earth. But it's not for everyone. Have you read some of the awful things that parents do? There are some seriously sick people out there and they're raising our future generations. Some of them are just immature and don't know what they're doing but they're heart is the wrong place. Do any of us really know what we're doing?

Think about it. Are we, the modern day man with all the comforts we can afford - really all that happier than the people that lived in Jesus time? The pursuit of happiness - isn't that the reason we go on living? We still have bloody wars that symbolize we are still just kids that have upgraded from fighting with fists to fighter planes. We're still searching for the elusive love. We still have poverty, abuse and starvation. Survival of the Naive? The people who naively "fell in love" procreated us. Perhaps, the smart ones, who lived happy lives and were smart enough to use a prophylactic correctly, died off still happy.

"Fuck." OK, while ranting to you the garter belt just nailed me in the middle of my forehead. All of the penguins (man that's a good analogy since a lot of us are dressed like penguins) stare at the garter like an ugly girl who fell to the ground. Who is going to pick her up? Who is going to take one for the team?

The bride - who I decided I'm not going use her name in the story anymore because of this move - decided I was the winner because it hit me. The crowd does a faux cheer and I smile like a boob - a fake silicone boob? She placed the garter in my hand and led me to the winner of the bridal toss.

It was Natalie. I bet you were thinking Darth Karla and her Sith powers would win the contest. While posing for the stupid picture, Natalie whispered to me, "You know, your girlfriend is kind of annoying. You can do better." Smile. Click. Smile. Click. When the picture taking ordeal ended, she pressed a note in her hand with her phone number. Deftly I put in my pocket before anyone noticed.

It's a wonderful feeling to feel wanted. It's also a good feeling to be unwanted. As I returned Karla home, she said that it was over between us. Relieved and curious, I asked why.

"It's not you. It's me." How cliché. At least she didn't tilt her head. "But we can be friends, right?"

"Sure." We exchanged hugs and she left to the evil Sith planet. No big deal. Girls come and go. Hell, I got Natalie's number right there in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the note.

This was one of the best days of my life: the ending of a bad relationship. This tale is not a typical boy meet girl story with an everyone living happily ever after. This is a girl dumps boy and he lives happily ever after. Who needs women? Who needs love? Not me. I want a happy life.

I threw the note out the window. Love can bite my dust.