March 1, 2006

Cherry Garcia, Unfiltered Cigarettes and Changing the Lyrics

I got an interesting fan email today from someone who just read my blog–we’ll call her Doll to protect her identity. The gist of her email was, “Hots, you’ve been around a lot. Did a man ever break your heart so bad you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t concentrate, didn’t even want to get out of bed? I’ve been going with this guy for years, we were planning on getting married. I thought everything was fine, and suddenly out of the blue he told me he never loved me, he always knew he didn’t, and he didn’t know why he ever told me he did. And he did all this just five days before Christmas!”

Well, Ho Ho Ho. M-e-r-r-y Christmas, Doll. This is, in case you never learned it in high school, a favorite ploy of True Jerks. I don’t know why, it just is. They love to nail you with a breakup at Christmastime.

Nice guys don’t do that. Nice guys show up on Christmas Eve with a diamond ring that looks more like a landing pad for a Boeing 747.

Doll, honey, come a little closer, ’cause I’m going to give you Hotclue’s Cure.

I know you’ve been sitting around listening to every sad song in the world, don’t deny it, I know you have. If not sad songs, it’s love songs, which make you cry even harder, right?

You’ve been sobbing into your tissues so much that your wastebasket’s been declared a flood zone. You hate him one minute, you want him back the next, right? Don’t tell me you don’t, I know you’ve done all that, and more. You think you can’t live without him and you’ll never be happy again. Right?


Right now, the sinus blockage you’ve got from all that crying is clouding your mind. Right now, the last thing you need is to hear me saying, “You would let any man who treated you like that be within ten miles of you ever AGAIN in this LIFETIME? Are you CRAZY?” At this stage of course you would, because of course you are.

But I’m here to take you in hand and save your sanity.

Okay. You’ve done the crying thing. You’ve looked up the Stages of Grief on the Internet and plan on spending at least a month on each stage. You’ve entered each stage on your calendar in the appropriate month, on the 1st, right? You’re all set now to spend at least four, five months grieving, still desperately wanting this cretin back, even though you know in your heart you definitely need to get over him, right?

Oh, you don’t know if you really want to get over him? You think maybe he didn’t mean it and maybe you can get him back?

Wrong. You don’t want him back. Trust me, you don’t. EVER, EVER, EVER. The hurt you just got is nothing compared to the one you’ll get if you marry him or even TRY to live with him. Look into my eyes. You. Do. Not. Want. This. Man.

Let me give you a rundown of Hotclue’s Cure:

First, run to the store and buy four pints of Cherry Garcia ice cream. Yes, it has to be Cherry Garcia. Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia is the USDA certified best comfort food in the world When Your Lover Has Gone. Next, beg, borrow or steal four unfiltered cigarettes from someone. Well, of course I know you don’t smoke! It’s bad for your health. It makes your breath and your hair stink. It causes cancer. I know all that.

Humor me this one time and get ’em anyhow, because this is a one-time shot. Four won’t kill you and they won’t make you an addict, trust me, because they’re too nasty. They’re supposed to be nasty. It’s all part of Hotclue’s Cure.

Next, remember the Broadway stage show, South Pacific, and one of the songs in it called “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair”? Remember it? Yes?

Okay, you’re all set.

Open the first pint of Cherry Garcia. Rich, delicious, beautiful taste, right? Right. Eat the whole thing. Right out of the box. It’s only official if you eat it right out of the box.

Open the second pint. Eat it all. Yep, right out of the box.

Getting a little queasy? Good girl. You’re right on target.

Open the third pint. Eat it. Every bite. Out of the box. Remember, I’m telling you this for your own good.

Pull out the four cigarettes. Stick all four in your mouth. Light them all. Sit there and smoke them all at one time. Oh, you can’t? Well, force yourself. I promise you, this is for a good cause.

Oh oh…wait a minute…is that you heading for the bathroom, slamming the door, throwing the lid up? Kneeling in front of the porcelain throne, crying and–what? Being really, really sick?

Doll, tell me right now. IS that man worth what you’ve just done to yourself?

You know he’s not. You KNOW he’s not. Think back to all the signs that you ignored because YOU (and only you, as it turns out) were in love. They were all there, weren’t they? Admit it, they were. You just didn’t see them. Well, yeah, you saw ’em, but you weren’t listening to that nagging little voice that said, “Oh, but wait a minute…this is not right…”

Hold on. We’re not finished quite yet. I hope you remember the tune of I’m Gonna Wash That Man right Out of My Hair, because now, in between heaves, I want you to change those lyrics to “I’m Gonna Puke That Jerk Right Out of My Gut”. Sing it like you mean it, honey, and remember that fourth pint of Cherry Garcia still sitting in your freezer. You’re not going to eat it right now, are you?

I see you shaking your head. Of course you aren’t, not right now. And you’re not going to call him, are you? No? Good. You’re getting there. And you’re not going to send him soul searing e-cards from Hallmark guaranteed to make him feel guilty, right? I hope not, because the only thing he’ll feel is irritation as he clicks Delete.

Tell me right now, would you want to take back a man who could actually GET you to do all this to yourself? Even if you thought he secretly wanted to come back–which you know he doesn’t because if he did, he’d be sitting in front of the porcelain throne himself, heaving his own guts out, wouldn’t he? And he’s not, is he?

You know he’s not. He’s out with his new girlfriend, feeding her the same tired old lies.

You do know, don’t you, there’s a good chance that one of these days he’ll run into a woman who does the same thing to him. Whatever you do, don’t console him if he comes crying to you. Just hang up on him and sing a few bars of the song that will be your mantra for some time to come, now that you’re just about over him, and you are. Open the windows wide so your neighbors can hear you singing THIS song, recorded by Patty Loveless, who really knows how to handle a man like that :

“Well, someone’s gonna do you like you done me, honey, and when she does you like you done it won’t be funny, you’re gonna need some sympathy, but don’t be callin’ me, just blame it on your lyin’ cheatin’ cold dead beatin’ mean mistreatin’ double-dealin two-timin’ lovin’ heart.”

By the way, don’t waste your time and energy hating him. Understand, he’s not hurting at all and your anger won’t touch him. The only one it can hurt is you.

Don’t let him do THAT to you on top of everything else.

Hey, glad to help, Doll! I know you’ll be fine. Let me know when you find a new man, but watch those little danger signals a little more closely next time, okay? That’s what life’s all about. Learning from our mistakes.

Hotclue. Has. Spoken.

Hugs and Ta Ta till next time!

Advice to the Love-Crazed | Add A Comment  


10 Responses | | Comments Feed

  1. Good advice, Hots. You make break-ups fun! Have you ever thought of doing a lovelorn column? You’d be great at it.

  2. When I get questions like that, I’ll be happy to answer them. 😉

    Hugs, Hotclue

  3. Okay, then here’s one for you. I have a friend, honest to God it’s the truth, who wants to step up her sex life. Unfortunately her guy is happy with once every two or three weeks. They love each other but the guy is content with petting and this gal wants more. A lot more. And a lot more often. What can she do?

  4. Give your friend, Beth’s benwah balls. I’ll never look at B&J Cherry Garcia ice cream the same way again. Considering I’m lactose intolerant, and so is JGirl, we’d have to settle for amaratto sours, her favorite.
    Dear Hotclue, you need your own newspaper column.

  5. Omigod, Yasmine, you’re saying this ISN’T a newspaper column? It’s not going to be in the paper?

    Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, RATS!!

    Hey, Sloane, my grandmother had it right, I think. She always said, “Honey, every woman needs two men. One to make the livin’, and one to make the livin’ worthwhile.”

    I don’t think I can improve on that. Although I’d be glad to check it out for your friend.

    Love y’all,

  6. Damn, I like your grandma!

  7. No, no, no, Tootsie. I can see that you have a lot to learn about men and life in general. Cigarettes and ice cream can’t replace a man. They just make you die young and fat.

    Trust me on this — the only cure for one man is another man. You know that old saying about falling off a horse and getting right back on? Men and horses are a lot alike. Some women would say that horses are smarter, but … never mind.

    Get back in the game immediately if not sooner.Wherever the kind of men you like hang out these days — go there! Be there, lookin’ good. Ah, the thrill of the hunt, the thrill of the chase!

    Always happy to pass along my hard-earned wisdom, Hot Clue. Call me anytime.
    Pat Browning

  8. Cheesh, Pat, you just ruined my next column! 😉 But you’re right, a new man is the next step. This was just to get her over the first hurdle, because she was STILL thinking she MIGHT, just MIGHT get him back. I wanted to make her realize she doesn’t WANT him back, EVER. But a new man…ah, yes. That’s the fun part. Still, she has to clearly remember what happened with the old one and not let that happen again, right? Cart before the horse, that’s my theory and I’m stickin’ to it! Hugs, Hotclue

  9. I would also add one thing here to my last comment. The first thing ANY young woman REALLY needs to learn is how to get along WITHOUT a man.

    Now y’all know I love men, I adore them. They can be sweet, wonderful, sexy, adorable, cute, all those things. The right one can make life one big party.

    But I also know it’s possible to live without one. I think EVERY young woman should live on her own for a while if at all possible.

    We NEED to learn how to hang pictures on the wall by ourselves. We need to learn how to put air in our tires. We need to learn how to use a screwdriver and know the difference between a Phillips and a regular one, and what you do with each one. We need to learn to take the garbage out even when it’s ten below zero. We need to learn that we CAN sit and eat dinner all by ourselves, and enjoy our own company and that we CAN zip up our own dresses, as well as unzip them, by ourselves.

    There is nothing worse for any woman, I think, than to suddenly wake up twenty, thirty years later and realize she doesn’t know how to manage a checkbook, has NO idea what her financial situation really is, doesn’t know how often the oil in her car should be changed, doesn’t realize furnaces have to be checked and cleaned periodically, doesn’t even know where the furnace filter is, much less how to change one.

    So while the new chase for a new man is fine and fun and can be gloriously exciting, she also needs to learn how to live by herself, because sometimes we have to.

    Love y’all, keep the comments coming,

  10. That is definitely a word to the wise, HotClue. If somebody wants to give you a graduation or birthday gift, tell them you only want one thing — an electric screw driver. A measuring tape always comes in handy, too.

    Carry on your good work! (-:

    Pat Browning







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