Leggo, My Ego!

Dear Ego - What’s that? A bit harsh you say? I’ll tone it down. Forgot how sensitive you are. Let's try again. Dearest beloved, precious, beautiful ego of mine: What the bleep is wrong with you? I mean, I don’t hear from you in years. Suddenly, you’re parading naked in my face like a deranged lunatic. Chill out, would ya?! I’m beginning to think you don’t like that I’m doing this dating thing. Well, I’m not so fond of it myself. But I’m just trying to get some needs met here, if you know what I mean. Wink. It’s not as much fun with you hovering and critiquing me like this.

Take the last chap, the one whose name I kept forgetting. My goodness, the Kleenex I had to nurture you with after that one blew over. Not to mention the hours of counsel and chicken soup. You didn’t recuperate for days. Instead, we should’ve been downing tequila shots in celebration. Get real, honey, the guy couldn’t carry a conversation with a U-Haul.

And the one before that: could he say “mama’s boy” in all caps and bold face font? I think he could, dearest ego. I think he could. You bulldozed me for that one too. Okay, I should’ve seen it coming when his mom dropped him off at my place. I’m a little slow on the uptake.

Now, I’m a pretty amiable gal; I’m not looking for a fight here. So when you have something to say, tell someone who cares. I mean, I know this is hard for you, dear ego. You're incredibly fragile. For goodness sakes, grow some layers, would ya?! This ain't a picnic in Paris for me either.

I suppose you mean well, but your dramatics exhaust me. I’d forgotten how tightly wrapped you are until I re-entered the dating scene. Perhaps you can, I don’t know, find a new hobby. Start a Facebook page or meetup group or something. How about a love interest? Then again, all the available egos I know are quite desperate and pathetic, not to mention overly inflated.

I’m trying to help us out here. Let’s take a timeout for a bit until we’re ready to reconvene.

With love, sincerity, and well wishes, I’m sending you away to leggo, my ego!

Top 10 Signs The Gal's Just Not That Into You

1) She excuses herself to go powder her nose for the next 10 years.
2) Curiously, every time you dial the number she gave you, a piercing FAX machine noise shatters your eardrums.
3) She says she hasn’t felt this way since she found out she’s allergic to clams.
4) She tells you your personality is tops.
5) She cancels a date to watch The Jerry Springer Show in syndication (alone).
6) She cancels a date to watch The Jerry Springer Show in syndication (with Jerry Springer).
7) She introduces you as her little cousin from Milwaukee.
8) She drop-kicks you across the room, shouting, “Get lost! My ex-boyfriend is here!”
9) She says, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
10) She says, “It’s not me, it’s you.”

The Toyota Conspiracy and I am Woman, The Sequel aka I am Woman and The Toyota Conspiracy, The Sequel

The precious little boxed bulb is extracted from my glove compartment with caution. I didn’t drop it at all. As a side note, I was not the one to take it out of the glove compartment. The girlfriend’s handy mechanic husband did. After all, I am good. I am woman. Hear me roar.

I peered intensely as he meticulously screwed it into its proper place. The lights worked again. It was a glorious moment in my formerly bleak existence. Am I good or what?

I drive off happily, able to see the road ahead, ever so peppy and accomplished.

I have a date the following evening. Could my life get any better? Well, yes, but I’m working on building suspense here. Bear with me. The date claimed to be tired, gave me a lukewarm peck and calling it a night before 9pm. But wait! I need not despair. He beckons me back, as I pull out of the parking space. He must have spontaneously realized how darn good I am. The man can’t possibly let me go so early. He wants to invite me in. I suppose I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much. He may just want a real kiss.

I open my window, nervous but excited about the prospects. He opens his mouth and informs: “Your light went on and flickered off. Just thought I should tell you.” “Thanks a lot dude. I’ll start writing a piece entitled 'Top 10 Signs The Dude's Just Not That Into You.' And I’ll get it fixed.” Disparaged and in-the-dark again, I take my debilitated car and ego home.

Another trip to Toyota next week. They don’t have the bulb and need to order it. Another trip to Toyota the following week. The Prius specialist relays, “We sold you the wrong bulb. There’s a price differential. This one costs $395.” Amidst gulps and tears (mine too), the Toyota mechanics install the proper bulb this time. At least, that’s what they told me again. This time they kindly cover the difference in price. After all, I am good.

The lights work. I’m not in the dark. Actually, I don’t dare ever turn the headlights on again, for fear of repeating this saga, especially the part with the date beckoning me back. Rather, I choose to remain in the dark. But if you close your eyes and listen carefully, dear reader, you might just hear me roar.