Breaking Irrational Women

I am usually good at calming people down. I have been known to stop fights, prevent meltdowns, talk people back into reality. I used to think the trick was being calm myself. People feed off of other people’s energy. But this is bullshit. No one cares that I’m ‘being chill’. The truth is I appeal to people’s rational side without insulting them. I throw logic at them, hit them over the head with facts and case studies. I venn diagram their asses! (Yeah, that last sentence made no sense, but you get where I am going with this.) My point? Even though I can calm down the rational people in my life, I absolutely suck at doing the same for the irrational. In fact, I’m downright dangerous with that group. Case in point:

MANY YEARS AGO

My ex-fiancé was an EMT and had a very emotional female partner. He brought her around often and as much as I wanted to connect with her, I couldn’t. She cried over everything. Her job, her ex, her friends, her enemies, potato chips. It was exhausting.

I didn’t dislike her, though. She was sweet and semi-intelligent. And when she wasn’t crying, she was interesting. But our nights with her would always end the same. She’d tell tragic/grotesque EMT stories, I’d listen attentively, we’d drink rum and coke and then she would have a meltdown and I would find a reason to leave. I knew the routine and I had learned to cope with it. Most importantly, the ex-fiancé was usually there to deal with the crying part. He was much better at that than I. There was a nurturing side to him that drew people in. He made them feel safe and he was excellent at making tears disappear.

The problem was, he thought everyone had that talent. One night, when he was on his midnight shift, I got this call.

Ex-fiancé (EF): Hannah is having a breakdown. A really bad one. We had to send her home.

Me: Sorry to hear that. Send her my best.
EF: Well… I kind of told her to go to our house.
Me: What? Here? Why here?
EF: I need you to be there for her until I get off of work. Just talk to her and let her cry on your shoulder.
Me: Wait. First tell me what this breakdown is about.
EF: Her ex won’t return her calls.
Me: No no no. Send her somewhere else. I don’t do the ex thing well. This will end badly.
EF: I have faith in you. I’ll be home in a few hours and I will take it from there.
Me: I hate you.
EF: Thanks. You’re the best! (click)

Really? Ex not calling? Who gives a shit about ex’s not calling. That’s what they are supposed to do, not call. Hell, I wished I had had that problem. She should be celebrating… popping open champagne, wearing a tiara and having sex with a bartender. That’s what normal people do, right?

She showed up a mess. Her puffy face was covered in tears, her shoulders hunched from heaving. She gasped for breaths in between sobs and threw her arms around me. It was madness.

Me: Okay. Calm yourself for a second and tell me what happened.

Hannah: I left my ex like three messages a few days ago and he still hasn’t called back.
Me: Then stop leaving messages.
Hannah: He doesn’t love me anymore.
Me: Jesus Christ, who cares? Look, lots of men are going to break your heart. Most won’t be worth it. If you don’t learn to cope, you are going to be in serious trouble.
Hannah: I don’t know how to cope!
Me: It’s all science. Evolution has caused you to bond with people for social reasons. There is an actual gene responsible for pain whenever that bond is broken. It’s to keep you socially tied to your tribe. But that pain… it eventually goes away. You just have to learn to ride out the storm. Go out and enjoy life. Do things that make you happy. Bond with your friends. And I promise, all the hurt you feel right now really does have a biological end.
Hannah: But why won’t he call? Doesn’t he realize how much this hurts me!

Jesus. I had pulled out my very best ‘break up’ speech and it had all gone over her head. I should have started with the ‘you deserve better’ talk and worked my way up. But her cry face had panicked me and I had whipped out the big guns too soon. I only had one option left.

Me: We are going to have to drink whiskey.

Hannah: No. I hate whiskey.
Me: Don’t back talk me. Whiskey is the best medicine for the depressed. It’ll be just the blackout drunk you need to get through tonight.

I pulled a bottle of Gentlemen’s Jack out of the freezer and poured her a glass. Yes, an entire glass. After her second drink she began to eye the whiskey suspiciously.

Hannah: (swaying) This shit is awful.

Me: I think it tastes delicious. It’s like coffee. At first you’re like, “how do people like this crap?” And then a year later you realize that you can’t live without it.
Hannah: I don’t like how it makes me feel.
Me: But you’re not crying. Thank god. My recommendation is to keep drinking until you realize how hilarious your pathetic life really is. That’s what I do.
Hannah: Okay.

I am not sure how many drinks she had. All I remember is every time the tears started to well up in her eyes, I poured whiskey down her throat. I was at war and my weapon was the bottle. Jack and I were determined to win this.

At 4am my ex-fiancé finally came home. I was in my pj’s playing Guitar Hero and I was very very drunk.

Me: This Smashing Pumpkins song is not as easy as it sounds. You hear it and think, I will destroy this song, and then your fingers get all confused and the song destroys you. I must master this.

EF: Where is Hannah?
Me: She’s either throwing up in the bathroom or passed out on the floor. Five minutes ago it was throwing up, but her eyes were closed so she should be sleepy by now.
EF: What did you do to her?
Me: I won the war!
EF: What fucking war are you talking about?
Me: I smothered her feelings with a bottle of Jack. You. Are. Welcome.
EF: Wow. I am never leaving anyone with you again!
Me: Another win!
EF: By the way, The Smashing Pumpkin’s song is one of the easiest. Go to bed.

The night (or morning, however you want to look at it) ended with my ex having to give both of us IV’s and Advil. He spent the next few hours taking care of Hannah and trying to get me to put down the guitar. I was no longer playing the game but carrying it around while singing random drinking songs to him. The next morning Hannah woke up with a horrible headache, her eyes bloodshot from puking. She could barely move or keep even her water down. I woke up in the lawn chair in the backyard snuggled up to my guitar. The ex, he had not gone to sleep yet. He had been busy checking up on Hannah all morning and stopping me from wandering over to my neighbor’s yard. No one was happy with me.

Moral of the story: Never leave me with crying women who have ex issues and no ability to think rationally. I will break them.