A recent article in the Gainesville Times discussed a woman who sued her fiancé for dumping her after she’d left her high paying human resources job and moved to a different city to be with him. And she won! The ex-fiancé received $150,000 for financial and emotional suffering.

At first, I was like, “WTF!, How ridiculous to bring your wounded heart and unsuccessful marriage into legal matters!” But, then I realized that maybe she had a point. I mean, an engagement is sort of a contract, or at least a promise of a long term commitment. And why shouldn’t this woman be repaid for her lost wages and emotional distress.

In fact, why can’t everyone receive that luxury? So, I got to thinking; what would I sue my ex for if I could? And this is what I came up with:

Dear Ex-boyfriend (who, shall remain nameless),

In seeing how you dumped me and shattered my heart into a million little pieces, I am taking you to court and suing you for the following: Read More »

[Chasing Chastity is a series by C. Ryder. You can read Parts I, II, and III here!]

“Well, thanks again for lunch, Jack.”

“Sure.” He looked at his watch. “Oh, sh*t, I have a meeting. Gotta go!”

“Bye.” He scurried off, leaving me alone in a cafeteria filled with chattering secretaries and yawing businessmen – the tables were divided according to sex. I NEED A

DRINK. THIS BIZ WORLD . . . UGH., I thought sullenly.

As soon as I walked through the front door of our Tudor home, I could see that Jack had contacted me through gmail chat. I poured myself some scotch into a crystal tumbler, sighed with frustration, and sat at my husband’s wooden desk.

Jack: hey

me: hey. What’s up?

Jack: just glad to see that you got home safe

me: thanks

Jack: ok, gotta go

me: all right then, have a good day

Jack: by the way, you looked very nice today…glad to see that the retail worked for your already lovely image

me: well, i try

Jack: good job! let’s have a dinner date next week. Cara is gonna be out of town, and i’m dyin’ to buy you a martini!

me: thanks

Thinking that our conversation was over, I stood up, patted my dog’s head, and headed to the bathroom. But Jack pinged me again.

Jack: if only i were younger, and we were both single! Read More »

“Glenn,” my husband declared, “this routine has got to change. I accept that you’re in mourning, but you can’t be self-destructive like this.” He was right. We both agreed that I either “suck it up” and get through this first semester as a junior professor or that I resign immediately and look for a job outside of academia. We had this conversation over dinner one night, and just few days before classes resumed.

As I had become accustomed to my new routine of binge-drinking, it was on this rare occasion that I found myself actually sober and even hungry. My husband, Jason, had surprised me with a home-cooked meal of hand made gnocchi – one of his many specialties. Along with his gift for making fantastic Italian food, he also had a special way of giving me advice in the simplest terms. As he poured me a nice glass of Sangiovese, he gave me these two options. Recalling my days as a pianist and listening to the meticulous clicks of a metronome, my ears followed each syllable that rolled off his tongue and onto his lips. And, as I listened my eyes were fixated on that empty wine glass. I watched it change into a brilliant kaleidoscope, bursting with swirls of various deep red hues. Once he had finished speaking, I watched the wine settle, and suddenly I felt a rush of confidence.

“Jason, you’re right,” I said. “I’ll quit this new job and find something different.” That declaration and the agreement we made that late August evening filled me with a type of hope that I had previously thought died with my mother. That renewed hope, however, was soon dashed when I met Jack and his volatile middle-aged ego. Read More »

Cosmo, the magazine I just love to hate, recently ran an article creatively called “Sex Tips From Guys.” The tips weren’t so much “tips” as they were things a few random guys constituted as “hot”, and the descriptions were so laughably romance novel that I had to repeat them here—with a few additions.

• “Wet your lips and moan that you can’t wait to taste me” – Sam, 22 – Hey Sam, your “tip” makes me think you’ve been watching a lot of porn lately. That’s cool and everything, but I think it’s time you realized that being so specific is one of the fastest ways to piss off your partner. Do you want me to move my head 90 degrees to the left as well?

• “This chick leaned against a dresser and stuck her butt out for doggie style. I definitely obliged” – Glenn, 23 – I’m sure this “chick” is super thrilled that you remember her sexual positions better than her name, Glenn. Also, three points for using the words “butt” and “obliged” in the same two sentences. How colloquially poetic of you.

• “My ex would splash her tee shirt with water while washing dishes. As soon as I saw her nipples through the fabric, I’d have to touch them” – Bart, 22 – Are you sure she was splashing her boobs on purpose, Bart? Maybe she just accidentally got water on herself from all those dirty plates you left in the sink for her to clean. Read More »

One of my good friends finished college. Three cheers for her, I say! Way to get it done in four years.

Last night, though, this same good friend also got engaged to her boyfriend of two years. Um. Congratulations?

Yeah, yeah, so they’re in love, whatever. I get it.

I was in love once. I never actually talked to the guy, but it was there. I’m still a little baffled by her annoucement of love and commitment at such a tender age as 22. Maybe it’s me, but a lot of the time, I still feel 14. I just have so much to learn about myself before I can conceive of taking the black – and – white plunge.

And before she started dating her boyfriend — oops, i mean her fiance — my friend was right there with me, braiding my hair in the photobooth with an economy bag of fun – size Snickers and a stack of trashy magazines.

Now, she has the Big Job, the Big Ring, the Big Life, and I’m wondering what to do with all these issues of Jane and feeling like I should take the training wheels of my bike. Read More »