Dear E. Jean: I’m a pretty, smart girl who’s gone through shattering, horrible, tragic heartbreak because of a man I absolutely adored. After I spent half a year getting to know him, then a year and a half in the gawdawfullest part of the South trying to develop a relationship with him, he unceremoniously dumped me. I came to my senses, moved back to New York, and began a new career. My problem? He is flying in for business and has asked me to dinner.
Advertisement – Continue Reading Below
I’ve thought endlessly about what I’m going to wear, revved up the diet and exercise, imagined all sorts of ridiculously expensive restaurants he might invite me to, but I (honestly!) don’t indulge any grand fantasy of him saying: “I was wrong; I’m moving here to be with you. Marry me.” My question: Should I even bother spending an evening with this man? And if I end up seeing him, do I play it cool? Or should I be all sugar, like I normally am? I really want him to eat his heart out! Clearly I’ve lost all perspective. —Slightly Over the Edge
Slightly, Sugar: Should you “bother”? Please. If I duct-taped your Manolos (with you inside them) to the top of the Empire State Building, you’d show up at the restaurant, dragging the spire behind you. Go. Be yourself. But I warn you: Your imagination has lathered up the smoochie-smoochie so thoroughly (dress, menu, “will you marry me”—yes! Don’t fib to Eeee), your skepticism has been lost in the shuffle. The man’s an “unceremonious” ass. Therefore, allow me to suggest another scenario: You kiss him goodnight in front of the restaurant; you jump in a cab, slam the door, wind down the window, throw him another kiss; and, as he stands throbbing on the sidewalk, you zoom away—gloriously, gorgeously indifferent.
This letter is from the E. Jean archive.