I've got a friend who doesn't even know who the Veronicas are, let alone that one of them is a lesbian and one was engaged to Dean Geyer. Down here in Tasmania, that's par for the course, it's not really somewhere where the hottest bands gather to play or fashion is often discussed, because it's a simple place for simple folks - no wonder Starbucks closed down - and I don't expect anyone to know who Blondfire is, but it'd be nice to discuss some of the finer points of obscure pop with someone. Back to my friend though, what was interesting today was to learn that even with his limited grasp of popular culture, was aware that Stephanie Rice and that other bloke had broken up. If you don't know, Stephanie Rice and whats his name were Australias golden couple of swimming, and had all these endorsement deals based on the fact that they were going out together, were non drug taking and wholesome, and because no one could imagine them having sex (they really seemed like a couple that had to make dates to be naughty and pash on the school fort) - sadly, they've broken up, hence the joke in the title of this post. Which of course needs to be followed up with a ba doom tish, and some "huh...huh" Rodney Dangerfield style shucking and jiving.
Whether you are famous or not, breaking up with someone is always really difficult. I've never had a terrible bad rip your heart out break up myself - I like to think I'm pretty resillient - but I have had some experience of being dumped. It's never ever easy, that little moment of finality when you get back your CDs, or have to hand back your key for instance is a million deaths all at once. Girls are good at breaking up, much better than when I was growing up, because Sex In The City taught them that with their gal pals in tow, they can get exotic revenge and handcuff a guy to the bed and steal all his stuff. I think girls are much better at relationships than guys as well, because it's a crazed commitment - have you heard that Kelly Clarkson song, "will you fight for me, die for me, live and breathe for me", frankly, I'd have out the door on the first one, never mind going and fighting a dragon for her" - to them and their kind. Nikki Websters Facebook is a wonderful example of heightened expectations in a boyfriend - woe betide the future prospects of a boy who crosses our N (well, have you seen Sacha Farber recently?). I remember my first ever time getting dumped - I got a huge speech about my failings as a boyfriend, and what I could do to improve and how my musical tastes could be improved. This speech was delivered under a set of monkey bars, I was 12, and I barely remembered 1/2 the time I had a girlfriend to begin with. Still, for some reason, I still really, really hate her...isn't that really strange? How dare she criticise the KLF...
I think most people just break up because they run out of things to say. I think if you date someone because they are rich, you are waiting for the break up to get 1/2 their stuff. If you date someone because they are hot, chances are they won't be one day. I know I'm not Dr Phil, but every relationship I've been in, and I include friendships in this, has a limited conversation span. There's only so many times I can tell someone I like their bangs or talk to them about my cat Senor Bagpuss - with my friends, I'm sure they know exactly what I'm going to say about Mick Malthouse or Britney Spears before I say it. My Dad recently said I was the worlds most predictable conversationalist, a cheek coming from a Man who once went in a two week sulk because Mum forgot Sunday was "boiled egg day". I think this is why I no longer speak to anyone I went to school with, because we had all used up everything we ever had to say to each other and had to get on with the rest of our lives, and find new people to speak to. When I broke up with the netballer, I'm sure we wished each other well, swapped keys and moved on, but we never spoke to each other again. The interesting thing about this was that she kept my Dannii Minogue Secrets VHS tape, and never returned it, and I'm convinced this was the reason she dumped me - she had got the tape, and now I had no further worth. Maybe Stephanie Rice finally got her copy of the Delinquents and...
Leaving school is the ultimate break up - never mind simply losing one girl, one Stephanie Rice, but the sense of normality and familiarity you have built up and the time you have invested in making sure you are OK and not being bullied (if you are lucky) is all finalised, and there you are, on your own. I remember my Grade 12 barn dance in Burnie, it was a chilly evening, and there I was, sitting on a hay bale with a scotch and coke, mystified and unappareciative of everyones kind wishes and goodbyes. I was too young and stupid to actually realise that this was it, a frightening kick into the lonely void. So of course, maturealy, I spent most of my night wondering why the girl I loved (I don't know if I did love her, or had decided on some self sabotage) was dancing with someone else. I ended up writing her a stupidly immature letter and lost her as a friend. However, this is fine because I had nothing left to say to her. In fact, a year later, she groped me drunkenly and I did nothing at all about it - time had passed. If I saw her now, well, I could be polite, but really, we've broken up haven't we? I'm really suspicious of people who "get back together" or go to high school re-unions. Someone told me of a guy in Latrobe (of paddock in fame) who still wears his school uniform to work, and who enthusiastically is still, whether they like it or not, in touch with everyone he went to school with in Grade 12. And he's 38. It really is better to have loved and lost mate...
If it's not working, it's not working...now, Stephanie, if you aren't doing anything this Friday night...
No comments:
Post a Comment