Some Assembly Required

Y'know those Christmas toys and gadgets that come with enormous instruction pamphlets, frequently translated from the Japanese? You sit on the floor surrounded by parts and tools, trying desparately to figure out how to assemble the new item that's going to enhance your life or the lives of your loved ones. At the end of the instruction pamphlet is a toll-free number you can call to reach a help desk manned by caring individuals who will hold your hand while you enable this new device.

I've decided men should be like that. Men should come with a help desk of former girlfriends who can listen to your woes and say, "Yes, you're right on the money with that assessment of what he's doing or why he's doing it."

I got a haircut on Saturday afternoon, administered by a woman who had dated Frank several years ago. This haircut came the day after he had told me he found someone new. She nodded her head in assent to everything I said about him, and tossed in a few observations of her own that I hadn't previously seen.

I think there should be informal organizations, maybe a listserv, for new love interests of confirmed bachelors. Get the information you need fast, without suffering through two or three months of investing your heart in a man who will then throw it away like yesterday's newspaper.

Of course I have to follow this with the fact that he called me on Sunday morning to see if I wanted to go to breakfast. (He got a new sports car and was looking for excuses to take it out for a spin.) Fortunately I had the babies with me and we were already breakfasting by the time he called, so it was a non-issue. But really, what was that about? Are you bored, your new honey isn't available, so you call Good Ol' Jan? Fuhgeddaboutit.

You made your decision. Now live with it.

And a ho ho ho to you.