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PMS
- POST MAN SYNDROME
Boyfriends
are like baggy underpants. They are clean and
fresh one minute, but dirty, smelly and right
off you the next. Of course, changing knickers
is easier than changing boyfriends. While both
become rancid and crusty with time, knickers can
be simply thrown into the laundry basket to
worry about another day. Ex-boyfriends however,
are usually to blame for the torrents of tears
and emotional outbursts women display in public
places. Others often diagnose such displays as
PMS. This of course is one hundred percent
correct, but what people don't realise is that
PMS has nothing to do with ovulation. PMS is in
fact Post-Man-Syndrome.
Breakups become the root of complex, female
analysis. Every word uttered during a
relationship suddenly develops new meaning.
Every sweet whisper, every gentle touch and
every sultry look suddenly signifies undying
love and happily-ever-after. You are soulmates,
lovers, friends. It is absolutely beyond
comprehension that he doesn't want you anymore.
"How could this have happened?";
"Why didn't I see it coming?"
Self-doubt chews away at your insides like
cancer. "What did I say, what did I
do?"; "I thought he loved me.";
"I knew I shouldn't have said that about
his mother."
Self-doubt is usually followed by hopeful,
straw-clutching illusions. You would probably be
arrested as a stalker if you actually went
through with some of the plans you concoct to
"fix" things. You become crazed and
desperate as you fight the onslaught of
oestrogen and adrenalin. You suddenly have an
urge to kill your fellow man, or at least make
his life as miserable as possible for as long as
it takes to get over him. You raid his mailbox
and destroy the airline tickets he's booked for
himself and his new girlfriend. Why should he
take her on a romantic retreat when he wouldn't
so much as take you to the supermarket? You
change the locks on his apartment, even though
you don't live there anymore. Your name is still
on the lease after all, and the landlord was
kind enough to let you in after you "locked
yourself out". You tell his latest squeeze
that he has gonorrhoea and that he doesn't call
her "skiddy" because she's a cute
skater. Oh yes, revenge is very, very sweet.
But deep down you know it's over. You know that
he won't yearn for you or re-live every intimate
moment you've had over the past three years. You
know he didn't mean it when he said he'd always
love you. You know he's not going to call, even
though you sit by the phone and deny you're
doing it. You know he's not going to stop seeing
the gorgeous blonde with the long legs just
because she can't possibly know him as well as
you do. Overall the message is simple. Men move
on. That's it. There are no hidden meanings in
the past and there are no dark, twisted motives
for your relationship. That "I love
you" he told you just last week comes
easily in the cosy darkness, but is forgotten
the moment you want to discuss the future. The
BBQ he cooked for your parents last summer
wasn't an engagement announcement or a plea for
parental approval. It was probably the result of
too much testosterone and too much beer. And he
happens to like arguing with your dad about the
cricket. Your dad !
is a guy too afterall.
Basically men are men and they don't believe in
fairytales. If something gets too hard, they get
out. And if it's too hard to get out, then they
somehow manage to make you do their dirty work
for them. First they set the bait -- they ignore
you, cheat on you, stomp all over you until you
dump them. You take the bait like a goat in a
laundromat, feeling you have no choice but to
walk away. Of course you'll sob onto your
girlfriend's shoulder for the next month or so,
wondering where you went wrong and why he
doesn't love you anymore. You'll be
inconsolable, repetitive, psychotic, torturous.
You will drive your friends to the very brink of
insanity as they tell you over and over what an
arsehole he is and that you're better off
without him. We've all done it, we've all heard
it, we've all said it.
And sometimes we just never learn. |
