If Only Men Were Boots

Just to be clear...if you express feelings of uncertainty in your relationship to your love partner of a year and a half, mainly about his feelings for you, and his way of making you feel better is to buy you a book called “Comfortable with Uncertainty” what you can be certain of is that this is his polite way of saying, “Deal with it bitch”. I am about as likely to read that book as I am “Adultery, the Forgivable Sin” ( yes it's a real book) and had I stayed in the relationship a week longer, I'm sure he would have offered that book to me as well.

The truth always comes out in the end and usually, if you wait long enough, they'll hand it to you all wrapped up in a bow, or a blog. I had been directed to his blog by a freind after having mentioned a few pieces of the breakup-puzzle I was already starting to put together. “I didn't want to tell you but...yeah...she was there".

I came to learn that while I was moving into my new apartment a block away from his (the move had been planned in pre-breakup denial) he was at Sundance with his new girlfriend on a trip I had initially been invited on.

As my friend Heidi would say...Oh...yuueeeesssss? Yes. One week later. You know what that means.

I should have known it would end like this. Not only will the truth always come out, but men will always tell you who they are up front, even when they try to tell you who they're not. One night while sipping drinks at the Skybar of the Hudson Hotel, and perhaps in an effort to clear a path free of suspicion for his future behavior, my ex told me how much we had in common. For one, we were not like most people who subscribe to the “Tarzan” theory of relationships.

“The what?” I ask. Naturally I'm interested. This is his theory and after all, he is...well...my Tarzan. We don't swing from branch to branch or relationship to relationship leaving one only when the other is well within our grasp, he explained. Ah......Hmmmmm....don't we? Well, he was right. WE don't do that...only one of us does.

Since I don't subscribe to the Tarzan theory, I would, when pushed to my limits, open the “we need to talk” conversation. I was ready, painful as it was, on a few occasions, to part ways -not because I didn't love him, I did, but because I just wasn't getting what I needed. Then I'd get the “I'm damaged” bill of goods and I'd buy it. But, not without some buyer's remorse; much like the boots I bought last week from the New York Look.

Black knee high riding boots, a chain behind the ankle and one behind the top of the calf and the tops could be folded over.

It was love at first sight until later that day when I showed them to my friend Russell over coffee. “What do you think?” I asked waiting for assurance that there was good reason for making the purchase I had no business making. "They'd be great if you had a parrot on your shoulder.”

Blinded by the sale and the need for post breakup retail therapy, I completely missed the obvious fact that they somehow made me look like I had forgotten to put on the rest of my Long John Silver's uniform. I wanted to take them back but... “I'm sorry, all sales are final, it says so on your receipt." WHAT? Ugh. They still looked great in the box and I might be able to get away with wearing them on occasion; I just didn't want them anymore...but they were mine.

I knew I was in for a ride with this guy but each time I tried to make a return he refused to give me my money back. Nor did he honor my VIP customer status and offer me a store credit for the older version of himself I fell in love with. You know, the version that was actually crazy about me and didn't want to have to pretend to feel less than he actually did.

At least at the New York Look, VIP customer status gets you something. The first day I wore the boots (well, I had paid for them right?) the chain fell off and though they tried to get me to accept to have them fixed, I got a store credit for damaged merchandise.

One thing IS for certain. Never buy anything you can't return.