“Wanna put my tender heart in a blender”
Never date a corporate lawyer. Here’s how it goes. You match him on Tinder and give him a chance even though he ghosted you after one date. You never get an explanation for this beyond “I was looking for something specific,” which sounds like another lawyer or some Woody Allenesque waif-bot, but most Brooklyn dudes want that, so fuck it. He has nice hair. He apologizes, claims to hate True Detective, and laughs at all your jokes.
He’s kind. Not like other corporate lawyers, you tell your friends, who smile painfully. He wants to leave Wappen & Kladden! He has values! He’s sensitive! You’ve never been happier, and he says he’s never been happier, and for the first time, you know you’re in love.
You spend a fortune on dates and don’t care. He makes three times as much as you, but you want to prove you’re not after his money.
One night you watch a movie about the futility of monogamy, and he freaks out. He’s scared of commitment. The guy who committed to 80-hour work weeks for nebulous reasons is scared of commitment. The guy who asked to meet your family after you said it would be okay to wait, because commitment can be scary, is now scared of commitment. You imagine your brother and dad, who only met one other boyfriend and hated him, discussing this the way people discuss natural disasters. “A damn shame. Now a whole different penis will have to enter her.”
But you know something has changed. Lately he seems less cute and more boring. You remember that you’re not Gal Gadot and that people are as interesting as you let them be. You say, “I’m sorry if sometimes I look at you blankly instead of listening.” He says, “Sometimes I want to leave.” How did he pass the LSATs? You tell him it’s okay to be human.
You go upstate with a bunch of his friends. They’re all more successful than you. You try to be social, but your confidence is shot. This is when he decides you’re incompatible.
He comes over in a panic. He’s sad because “we used to be so happy.” He sees you “in a negative way” now. He sometimes even doubts you’re attractive. Because lawyers think it’s important to present all sides of reality. To acknowledge how illusory everything is, even human connection. A corporate lawyer can predict the future from a mile up his own asshole.
He clearly wants to break up, but makes you do it. It’s the day after your birthday. A few days later, this Vitamix arrives at your door. Either he wants you back, or he does not understand the human species.
He does not understand the human species. Who buys someone they’re dumping a Vitamix? He wants to be the hero of this story: “I got this girl an epic birthday gift and then we broke up.” He wants me to remember him fondly. I can’t abide it. I had fleeting Hollywood fantasies about smashing it in the street, but that’s for waif-bots. I’m not gonna ruin a perfectly good blender. Yet, sitting on my microwave, it looks exactly like the Wappen & Kladden building. I am afraid of it. Please help me.
It’s a certified reconditioned 5200 series. It comes in the box with a 5-year warranty and a recipe book. I am also available for dates.
[This piece was first published anonymously on Craigslist. See the original post here]