“Don’t you feel bad about yourself after a break up?”
I’m having a conversation with my older sister in a bar, and I can tell that she’s confused by how glibly I just announced that last week’s lover is out of the picture.
“No,” I reply simply, and upon observing her bemused reaction, I continue, “I know that I bring a lot to the table, and every time in the last year a relationship has ended, it’s because the man couldn’t keep up with me.”
“But, like, even if a guy breaks up with you, you don’t feel like you could have done something better?”
My sister is much older than I am, and here I am, lacing her with game when she’s the one with the giant rock on her hand.
“No, not really. The last time a guy broke up with me, I just used it as an opportunity to play the victim and run crying to all my friends who in turn comforted me by buying me things and taking me out. It’s a hustle.” It’s at this point that I realize I’ve probably reached the nth level of confidence in my life, which is cool, because having been a broken teenage girl with low self esteem, it feels good to transcend those feelings of self loathing and worthlessness into a point where I can see with much self assurance that I have too much dignity to put up with even an ounce of bullshit from someone who isn’t at least a 10/10 in the sack.
“Well, I would just feel badly about myself after a break up. Like something’s wrong with me.”
“Well. Do you think that there’s something wrong with me, sister?” I ask pointedly.
“Then. There you go. There’s nothing wrong with me just because I went through a break up. Everything is just fine, and wasting time thinking that anything is otherwise is not something that I’m interested in doing.”
She smiles at me. And I smile back.