When a relationship ends, women often spend a great deal of time asking themselves “Why?” and wondering if there is something inherently wrong with them which makes finding love so difficult. Here’s some useful wisdom that you can apply during those times when you start to question yourself in this way:

Don’t ask why. Ask what. What do you want from a man who loves you? And what did you get instead? That is all you need to know. Think about it. When you were dreaming about Mr. Right, did he forget to call you for weeks on end? Did he see other women? Did he spend more time with his buddies drinking beer and shooting pool than with you? Of course not. So he can’t be all that “right” for you, can he? Your dream man would never treat you so badly. So it follows that you should never let a real-life man treat you so badly either.

It’s time to see him as he is - Mr Wrong - not as you want him to be. Remember to look at his behavior as information about him, not as information about you. What did the behavior reveal about his attitudes, considerations, or intelligence? Was he as “ideal” as you had imagined? If you had not been the woman involved, what would you have thought of his behavior?

Does all this mean we should never work on ourselves at all? Of course not. But here’s the rule: make changes only to make yourself happy - not to get the guy or so that the next guy will find you more lovable. And at the very least, every time you don’t become some man’s loved one, make sure you treat yourself as your own loved one. Take good care of yourself until your perspective and energy are restored. Treat yourself just as you would have liked him to treat you. Reassure yourself that you are worth it. And don’t ask why. The only explanation you need is it’s not you, it’s him.

(From It’s Not You, It’s Him: The Zero-Tolerance Approach to Dating)

I first twittered this in five parts, but decided to post it here for the sake of permanency:

I received a picture text from a hot young cub I’ve not heard from in weeks (because he tripped my Bitch Switch on our last date).

The message was a shot of his penis, along with a note: “You didnt come and get your present…so im sending it to u :)”

My BlackBerry revealed that this was a mass text, sent to me and EIGHT other numbers! Nice move, jackass!

So, I decided to bust his balls, and replied ‘TO ALL’: “Wow one present for all nine of us! Should we blame the recession?”

His response: “Had to do some cut backs used to b more, now just 9, one for every inch :)”

Over on Baggage Reclaim, a reader, Kim2, posted this comment:

Why do we waste time with men like this?…I believe it is low self-esteem and low expectations but I don’t know how to correct that. How to get so proud of yourself and respect yourself enough to not waste time on jerks.

Here’s my answer, and it’s surprisingly simple:

You just make the decision not to waste time on jerks, and act on that decision when you are faced with one!

When you waste time on a jerk, do you feel proud of yourself?

When you waste time on a jerk, do you respect yourself?

Of course you don’t! It’s a vicious loop and the way you escape it is to break your participation in the perpetuation of the loop. You develop high self-esteem and high expectations by acting like a woman who has these things already - and a woman who has these things already would not waste time on jerks!

A woman who has high self-esteem would laugh in the face of a man who treated her poorly. So laugh in his face.

A woman who has high expectations would walk away from a man who treated her poorly. So walk away.

Would a woman with high self-esteem call up a man who left her, crying and begging for him to return? No, she would not…so hang up the damn phone!!

Would a woman with high expectations keep seeing a man who is seeing another woman? No, she would not…so tell him “You can’t have us both, I’m outta here.” and then get the hell outta there!

The foundations of self-esteem and self-love, and the forming of high expectations, are all based, in whole or in part, on what behavior you will tolerate, whether from yourself or others. If you are willing to tolerate poor treatment from others, then that sends a powerful message to your own psyche about your self-worth.

Furthermore, you are not only being treated badly by them, but by putting up with it, you are guilty of self-abuse. You become a willing participant in your own mistreatment!!

Fortunately, the opposite effect is also true: if you refuse to put up with nonsense, you are sending your psyche a message that you love yourself too much to put up with it. And the less you put up with it, the more you will come to feel love for yourself, and the less you’ll put up with it! You’ve just broken the old cycle and created a new one!

So, stop worrying about his behavior so damned much, and focus on your own. Stop asking yourself “Why do I put up with jerks?” and simply stop putting up with them.

Vow today that you will start acting like a woman with high self-esteem would act. If you start to act as if you already have confidence, self-esteem, and self-love, pretty soon, you’ll find that you do have all of these things for real.

I focus on myself, my life, my work, my hobbies.

I want someone to share my life with, but I’m not consumed by their absence from it.

Life is good, though perhaps not great. I am happy. I love myself.

Then you come along.

Suddenly, all I can think about is you. Happy, lucky, optimistic thoughts about what we might become together.

My focus shifts to you. What can I do to give you what you want and need to be happy (with me)?

I stop loving me, and start loving you.

I stop relying on myself for contentment and happiness, and start relying on you for these things.

I abandon myself, and I want you to abandon yourself (to attend to me)!

My focus turns to what I think I should be getting from you, and how unhappy I am that I’m not getting what I need (anymore).

Your focus is on you, your life, your work, your hobbies.

And I find myself waiting, waiting, waiting for you to give your focus (and love) to me.

I become increasingly frustrated, obsessed with getting what I need (from you). I start to shut down, become angry and resentful.

Because I am no longer the happy, independent woman who attracted you initially, you start to withdraw.

Because I can (by now) recognize the signs of a man’s impending departure, I withdraw as well.

Either you leave, or I leave, or we both leave; and our relationship is no more.

I feel abandoned and unloved.

Healing takes time, but eventually, I remember who I was before you came along.

I focus on myself, my life, my work, my hobbies.

I want someone to share my life with, but I’m not consumed by their absence from it.

Life is good, though perhaps not great. I am happy. I love myself.

I had love and happiness when we started; I have them back again now that we are through.

So, where did they go during our time together?

The light bulb turns on.

My fear of abandonment has nothing to do with you, or the man before you, or the one before him, or the one before the one before him.

It has everything to do with where I look for what I need and want, for what will make me feel loved, for what will make me happy.

When I am not in a relationship, I look inside myself for these things.

When I am in a relationship, I look outside myself for these things.

You didn’t take these things from me; I gave them up, expecting you to take over my job.

You didn’t abandon me; I abandoned myself, long before you were out of the picture.

Totally representing where I’m at these days:

Finally, someone has put a name to my personal texting pet peeve:

The Dangling Text: Nothing leaves someone to ponder their last correspondence more than the dangling text…it’s just out there cavorting amongst the airwaves unattended and unanswered. Whilst engaging in digital banter, keeping the pace is imperative. If you must abruptly return to the board meeting or tend to the whipper snappers, send a polite “/text” to inform your cohort that your attention is needed elsewhere and you will resume at a more convenient time. Not doing so is as rude as hanging up without saying good-bye…and that’s not okay either! (Eve-101)

I feel the same way about IM conversations where the other person just “hangs up” in the middle. Grrrrr! Rude!!

This conversation took place entirely by text message.

MB: How’s work?
EC: Good Hows it going
MB: Good here. Just relaxing.
EC: Hey what are YOU doing tomorrow
MB: I think my oldest son is coming to visit. Then every Sunday night I go to Cantina Laredo with a friend. What are YOU doing tomorrow?
EC: You
MB: ???
EC: I am doing you :-)

Ummmmmm. Oh really? Says who, you moron? So I turn to sarcasm, which sails riiiiiiight over his head and outta the ballpark:

MB: Well be sure and let me know it turns out. ;-)
EC: So you had complaints before???

*thud*

MB: One guy came too fast and he said it was my fault for moving too much. Does that count? But that wasn’t what I meant, silly.
EC: Yea cause you in for guys who never get it and they cum to fast get a man thats been there done that so he can last
EC: Like myself
MB: Oh is that the secret?
EC: You Havent figured that out yet and they so when you get older your :)
MB: Now your sentences don’t make sense lol. How do you know what I have and haven’t figured out? Hahaha
EC: Cause you men you choose are desperate and cum to fast
MB: That was ONE man. Others have done MUCH better than he.
EC: Lol sure :)

At this point, I was tempted to tell him just exactly HOW PHENOMENAL sex with my most recent lover had been — in excruciating, glorious, multi-orgasmic, soaked-sheet detail — and end it with a “there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that you’d never in a million years be able to outdo him - NEVER.” But oddly enough, I felt that doing so would be to abuse the memory of such fantastic sex. Plus, I suspected he wouldn’t even have believed me anyway, which would only irritate me all the more. So, I stuck to sarcasm:

MB: Want their numbers? :)
EC: Yea cause you didnt enjoy it and your on a search for a good one
MB: Now you’re just talking outta your ass lol
EC: Yea you will see im an not
MB: In my experience the ones who feel the need to brag about how good they are tend to be the worst at actually doing it. ;-)
EC: I never once bragged just told you about what you pick
MB: But you don’t know anything about what I pick. Bad sex has NOT been the issue. Not even close.
EC: Well if a guy comes to fast with you what else do I need to know :)

By this point, I’m completely agitated by both his arrogance AND his typos - if he’s this much of a tool before he’s even met me AND when he should be on his best behavior, I can’t imagine what he’d be like after the new wears off. Asshole much?

So, I say nothing further to him in reply. Being the insightful intellectual that he was, he didn’t take the hint too well, and sent another text a few hours later, at 1:30 in the morning no less:

EC: Hey are YOU up

Why yes, yes I was, but there was no way in hell I was about to tell him that. And when he called me two days later, and texted me a couple more times after that, I could have cared less. Meh.

Woman (sarcastically): I'm sorry, I'm such a bitch.
Man: Hmm…
Woman: You think I'm a bitch, don't you?
Man: I didn't say that.
Woman: You didn't disagree with me.
Man: You know yourself better than I do.
Woman: I can't believe you called me a bitch.
Man: I didn't call you a bitch, you called yourself a bitch.
Woman: But you didn't tell me I'm not a bitch.
Man: Because you're acting like a bitch.
Woman: See? You think I'm a bitch!
Man: I said you were acting like a bitch.
Woman: Whats the difference?
Man: Dustin Hoffman acted like a retard, but it doesn't mean he is one.
Woman: I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but you're a dick for thinking I'm a bitch.
Man: Do you mean I'm acting like a dick or I am a dick?
Woman: Fuck you! (storms out)
Man: Too easy. Caramel Macchiato please!

(via Overheard Everywhere)

So, last week, I found myself hitting up Match pretty hard. Normally, I find very little on there which rouses even a smidgen of interest from me; but somehow I wound up talking to several men simultaneously. But, of course, as these things usually go, one by one they all showed their colors pretty fast, and weeded themselves out.

The first described himself (via his Match and Yahoo nicknames) as a “sexy and tall CPA”. (He also happened to be black, which isn’t a mark against him at all, as I acquired “the fever” a couple years ago, and my temperature has yet to recede.)

We chatted a little on IM, and agreed to meet last Thursday night at a local sports bar near my home, at about 6:45 that evening.

I already knew from our conversation that he managed a large accounting department, and they were in the middle of month end close; as someone who spent nearly twenty years in the accounting field, I had a certain amount of sympathy for how much month end sucks. So, I wasn’t terribly surprised when he needed to push off our meeting until 8:15 instead. I simply hit up Eathan to come up there with me earlier, for food and talk, while I waited for the CPA to arrive.

At a few minutes before 8, he texted that he was still about another 30 minutes away, and then called me before I could respond to the text to apologize for the delay. I told him no problem, I was visiting with Eathan and having fun, so all was good.

He finally arrived at, ahem, maybe 8:50. He was definitely tall - upwards of 6′5″ - but I’m not all that sure about the sexy. Once he sat down, I was immediately assaulted by his overpowering cologne, which might have been tolerable had it been a more pleasant scent rather than one which literally caused me to start coughing every time I inhaled. Because of this, I could hardly look directly at him to talk, which I’m sure made me appear to be avoiding eye contact with him.

Eathan had quickly excused himself to go home. I was drinking a vodka and cranberry; CPA ordered a soda. Then, he posed a few follow-up questions to me on a topic we’d touched on earlier (interracial dating, what did we like most and least about it). He asked me where I liked to go dance, then when I mentioned one club I frequent, he wanted to know if it was a black club.

I found the question somewhat amusing. First, because even though the person asking me the question was himself black, I just didn’t think it mattered. Second, because it’s the type of club which identifies itself not by race, but by a particular lifestyle.

I guess he didn’t like me laughing at the question, or maybe he thought I was laughing at him. But shortly after that, he suddenly let out this big sigh, hit the table with his hand, and said, “I’m beat, I need to get my tab,” and then asked where the restroom was (though he claimed to have been there before, and they were right in his line of sight a few feet away).

I sat there in a slight amount of shock - did this guy really just tell me that he was already done with our conversation after barely fifteen minutes, when he’d made me wait most of the evening for him?

He came out, went over to get his tab, came back to tell me he’d taken care of mine too - um, okay, but I’d already paid my tab before he arrived, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness over him thinking I expected him to pay for the food I’d had earlier. I’m pretty sure my eyebrows went up and I gave him a look of “oh really?”

I walked quickly to my car, pointing out where my Mustang was parked, him trailing behind and mentioning something about where he’d parked his Mercedes. (That felt like an attempt to impress me at first, but later I realized it was probably more about him being too impressed with himself.)

Still saying “WTF?” to myself, I drove home and knocked on Eathan’s door, knowing he’d be way surprised to see me, and he was. I think we both agreed that you don’t make a woman you’re meeting for the very first time wait half an hour only to spend a mere fifteen minutes with her. (And really, since we were originally supposed to meet at 6:45, it’s two hours!)

Eathan also pointed out that, in my case, it really took much more of my time and effort, because I work from home, and one of the big benefits I take advantage of with that is not doing the whole hair and makeup drill every single day. So, when I agree to meet someone, I’m not just swinging by after work like they probably are, already spit-shined up, I have to carve time out of my regular routine just to get presentable.

Now, of course, this isn’t the man’s fault that it takes so much extra effort for me when I decide to meet him. But nevertheless, my time deserves just as much respect as his.

(And, hearing someone else put it this way made me realize that I’d never really done a good job of explaining to the last guy I was seeing why I got so frustrated by his last minute bids for my time, when I’d prefer to have some advance notice so I could look my best for him. In fact, I did a quite terrible job of it, and ended up taking that frustration out on him in a very inappropriate manner. But how I made amends over that situation is a story for another day.)

Another thing that Eathan opined is that sometimes, when certain black men become successful, they develop an attitude of such self-importance that they expect to be overly accommodated. Hmmmmmm. Interesting theory.

Anyway, to wrap up a story that’s gone too long: shockingly (*snark*), I’ve not heard a word out of the CPA since Thursday night - which is actually okay with me, because I also sometimes suck at telling people I’m not interested in them (yes, really, although I know that might sound strange to those who’ve observed my ability at ripping the occasional new asshole for those who deserve it).

There was one positive thing to come out of this: I’ve decided that, on at least a couple of days each week, I’ll take the extra time to get glammed up, regardless of whether or not there’s some man sniffing around. It’s something to do to feel better about myself, and it will also seem like less of an out-of-ordinary event for me when I have to do it for an actual date.