The Day I Shot Cupid (7 page)

(Can’t Live With ’Em, Can’t Live Without ’Em, Can’t Shoot ’Em! Well, Maybe in Some States.)

B
reakups, good-byes, endings, however
you see it, are hard. It feels like someone is driving over you with his car. You don’t know how you will ever get out of bed, eat again, or stop eating. You keep crying and telling the story, and beating yourself up for not seeing it sooner or doing it better. He goes from being the love of your life to your ex-boyfriend to a jerk to a piece of bleep to just a bleeping bleep. The radio stations only play love songs to torture you. Romantic comedies are on every channel. And only really happy couples eat at restaurants, go grocery
shopping, and now, for some strange reason, stop and smile at you. You start to notice kittens because soon you will live alone with ninety cats and one fern. All the fruit you crave comes in bunches or pairs—even fruit hates you! The one time you do eat out, the guy and girl next to you get engaged and ask you to take their first photo (this actually happened to me the day after I had to end my engagement—cue the crocodile tears). Your eyes are so swollen shut from crying it’s impossible to see your future. Even old people and babies, who you can never get mad at, now seem like horrible people because babies have felt no pain and know not of your suffering, and old people don’t have to worry about finding someone new. And then one day, when everyone has let you live in misery for the needed amount of drama, it has to end. Like a cavalcade of angels with maxi-pad wings come your girlfriends. And these words change it all: “PUT YOUR BIG-GIRL PANTS ON AND GET OVER IT!”

And you do. (a) You’ve eaten so much you have only big-girl pants, and (b) Being depressed is not productive. Even if you have to pretend to be happy for a while, your spirit will follow. Remember, it always gets worse before it gets better. And when it gets better, it gets great. I’ve just gone through it and I’ve come out on the other side. I have a new respect for myself. I have been able to look inside and figure out who I truly am. I know that I am the marriage type and can be in a committed relationship, even if he was not the right one. And I know now that I truly can survive anything. Sometimes it’s in the toughest moments that you learn the most about yourself, and the more you know yourself, the less you are willing to give away.

So there I was, trying to heal from my trampled
heart. Trying to think of anything I could do to get out of this funk. I learned to crochet finger puppets, because any guy I date next will have that as a requirement, right? I perfected my “I’m over him and movin’ on” voice. My ultimate discovery came when I realized that if you stare at the ceiling and start counting around 11:30 p.m., you will reach 1,486 by 4 a.m. I am so glad I learned that. A lot like algebra—not! And then somewhere between the late show and the early show, it hit me. The lightbulb I had been
waiting for, THE BEST IDEA I’VE EVER HAD. I need a spray tan!!!!!!!!!!!

God, I need to get a life. Spray tans seem very exciting after 1,500 conversations with your dog. It’s time to let someone in my house, and bring with them a little color. That’s right, soon I would be a walking caramel macchiato. Angelique was the magic woman’s name. She would be the first person I talked to in weeks and the one to start the cocoa-colored makeover. When she arrived, I was so excited to start my transformation, and then color layer by color layer my confidence grew.

She told me about this new beauty trend. It would not only change my outer appearance, but how I felt about myself on the inside. She said it would add a little sparkle to my life. I called it “VAGAZZALING.” She wanted to put Swarovski crystals on my hoo-ha. The lack of traffic on my hoo-ha highway at that moment and my fear of lying sober and naked while a woman puts crystals on my little lady made me hesitate. Then I wondered why. In my head
I couldn’t have a “vagazzled” area without someone to see it, but I was wrong. I should do it for me. It should look like my favorite denim jacket from the eighties and be just for my viewing pleasure. So I lay down. It was very fast and not awkward at all. And what I saw when the mirror and I met was amazing. The once pale, sad girl who couldn’t figure out how to move on from her breakup had transformed into a bronzed sex goddess with the prettiest hoo-ha in my neighborhood.

For the next week I had this uncontrollable urge to show everyone my crystal delight. Thank God I fought that and kept the adoration society to one. It’s true; I had started a love affair with my lower region disco ball and before I knew it, I felt great again. So if you find yourself down and out, or just want to have a sparkly secret in your pants—go for it! Boost your confidence and get out of the dumps any way you can. But don’t bedazzle it, VAGAZZLE it!!

Well, here I am, eating alone. Not to
sound needy, but I’ve never done this before. Never ordered without someone to discuss it with. Never had the waiter say, “Just you? [Weird feeling-sorry-for-me pause and then] This way, ma’am.” Why am I a
ma’am
? Is it because I’m alone? As I sit in a pretty empty restaurant, I notice that everyone here is alone. Have these sweet
patrons come out to support me in my table for one? Is this restaurant
called
Table for One? Or is it just that I find myself in a business stopover hotel where most people are actually alone? It’s sweet and sad in a way, to watch them all not want to be by themselves so badly that everyone is on the phone. Even me. I can’t call enough people to fill in the space between “More water, ma’am?” and my entrée.

So why is it that we can’t be alone? What’s wrong with laughing to yourself about the funny thing that happened that day? Saying in a hushed tone, “Wow, this tastes good!” Maybe it’s because when you can tell someone a funny story, it also makes their day, and a laugh that is shared is food for your soul. And maybe sharing something that tastes good between two people who care enough about each other to share a meal is the stuff life is made of. A few brief conversations with myself, two margaritas, and a really nice meal later, I decided it would be a very long time before I ask for a moment alone again.

H
ave you ever really looked at the
word
trust
? I mean, we’ve all talked about it, had it, not had it, given it and been sorry, or wanted to be able to give it so badly, but have been so haunted by the ghosts of the past that we couldn’t. But have we really looked at it? I did today, for the first time. I wrote it down on a piece of paper and studied it like the Da Vinci code, and there it was, right there in the middle of this simple five-letter word. The answer we all seek, but can’t or don’t want to see, in the middle of the word
trust
is the word
us
. Yeah, makes blaming your issues on someone else kind of difficult.

Maybe finding trust is so hard because it’s not about looking at another person. Maybe it’s about looking at ourselves. When things get tough and scary, can you be trusted not to run? When you feel insecure or threatened and have had your trust tested and it failed, will you be able to trust or will you live in fear of being hurt again? Can you be trusted to live by the same rules you ask others to live by? Can you be trusted with someone’s heart? It suddenly all becomes clearer. First we have to trust ourselves. And if we can be trusted (with someone’s heart), if we can trust (another person), and, most important, trust (in ourselves), then we will always be okay.

Really finding the ability to trust is the hardest thing to do. I’m still working on this one. Because when it’s broken, it feels like something inside you dies. But someone is worth all you have to give. Take a long look at yourself. Trust yourself and then trust others. Everything will be okay…trust me.

I
don’t know about you, but I’m pretty
strong. Not a lot gets me down or damages my spirit. But I do find a difference between my inner and outer self. If someone attacks my brain, body, or image, I am fine. Sure, it sucks, but from the core of who I am comes this way of not letting it get to me. I am affected by it and then I move on. But when it comes to my heart, a bad or unkind
review on my ability to love leaves me crippled. Someone attacking my heart is like being shot. I lose all ability to be strong. And here comes the really messed-up part, and I know it’s not just me—people can say nice things all day long and I’ll miss them or brush them off, but the one bad thing feels like it’s being shouted through a megaphone pressed directly against my eardrum! So why do we always believe the worst reviews?

I think it’s because to truly love or be in your highest self makes us very vulnerable. I also think it’s really simple. We all care what others think of us, don’t try to pretend you don’t, because I know you do. And if someone doesn’t like our outside we can take it as opinion or taste, but if someone doesn’t like our inside, it’s an attack on who we are. But here is the upside—we all get through it and most of the time we get stronger. The downside, however, can be devastating. If we wear our worst reviews like a backpack, they travel with us. The only way to beat the bad review is to leave
it behind. Please don’t take it with you, it’s not healthy. And NEVER change who you are because of a bad review. Remember what they say: opinions are like…well, you know…and everybody’s got one! And let’s be honest, most critics are insecure and not happy with who they are either.

Please know that slight nitpicking and teasing in any relationship is healthy, but breaking someone’s spirit is never okay. A bad love review does not mean you are a horrible person, it means you may not be right for them, and why would you want to be with someone who feels that way? It’s okay to ask more of someone or to be loved differently, but it’s never okay to damage someone’s heart. The “love slayers,” as we will now call them, learn of their destruction only by seeing it at work.

So here’s what I will ask of you—next time you meet one of those love slayers in the dark alleys of relationships, be strong, take the review, look him or her in the face, and say, “Thank you, I will try and work on that for the
next person.” Tell him or her that you feel this situation isn’t right for you anymore and walk away. In two seconds you have stepped on the slayers’ review, been stronger than they ever thought you could be, and fought off the bad-review arrow headed straight for your heart. Some people think it’s the first impression that matters most, but I think it’s the last.