Even after they make promises they can’t keep, and you foolishly believe them, you must never make them upset. Why bother pointing out their flaws to them? The ones that should be quite obvious at this juncture. That is, if they weren’t so busy moving on to the next dame to bamboozle. It’s always a younger one. A girl who doesn’t know better and can be easily convinced of all that he has to “offer.” Which, in the end, comes down to a single “gift”: heartbreak. There are many women, however, who are not as fragile as I am. Who can absorb rejection from someone who was unworthy of them in the first place and radiate it right back out of their bodies, like some kind of breakup chemotherapy. Shrug it off and move onward. They wouldn’t waste time trying to make the man in question feel guilty for summarily jettisoning her from his life, like shaking off a proverbial monkey on his back. I think that’s what all women become to men after a certain amount of time. Hence, one of the many sexist ways to refer to a wife being: “the ol’ ball and chain.” 

When you have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach all the time, and it seems as though someone is standing on your chest after he informs you that it’s not going to “work” (a.k.a. he didn’t want to put in any further time to make it work), you must still never make them upset. You must think of how they feel. They with all the power to start and end things at their own whim. They who are as careless with human hearts as Greek gods once were. And maybe that’s the thing about men: they still do seem to think they’re gods. Worthy of anything and everything we might have to give to them, only to have it spit back out at us when it no longer suits their fancy. But still, despite you being the one who was cast off in favor of something “better,” you must not point this out to him. It will force him to deal with ugly and unpleasant truths about himself—and nobody likes that, least of all men. Sure, they occasionally joke about how well-aware they are of being assholes, but, ultimately, they’re quite offended if you highlight this too often and with not enough of a “jocular” angle. It makes them wary, and they start to accuse you of being a “shrew.” Or if you’re not undeniably “hot,” they’ll just say you were too ugly to ever enjoy the pleasures of a man and that’s why you hate them so much. So yes, I must reiterate again to never make them upset. Unless you want to incur a very distressing wrath that may very well result in physical abuse. Because mental abuse is just par for the course.

In the aftermath of being thrown over like a carcass from a plague-ridden boat, never make them upset about it. Or try to remind them of all the bullshit they spouted in the beginning about how you were the one and there was nobody else they could picture themselves with in the future. Oh how little it takes to get cut out and replaced in that mental picture. I find it so absurdly comical that women were (and are) prevented for centuries from holding political offices because they were deemed too inconsistent as a result of their “hyper-emotionalism.” And yet it is men whose passing preferences and changing impulses are at the root of all pain, both personal and global. If they could just stick to one goddamn decision in their wrath-invoking life… But no, do not say this to them. Tell them nothing of what pieces of shit they are for treating you as they do. Do not upset the man. It’s his job, after all, to upset you. And so if you upset him, you would be taking one more thing away from his once ironclad role in this world. Being that the twenty-first century has sent men into a tailspin about their purpose, maybe it means more to them than ever to upset women. This is achieved most effectively by building them up and bolstering their confidence, by making them feel safe and comfortable—and like maybe not all men exist on this Earth solely to disappoint you and prove all your theories about them correct. Right when you think everything is still just hunky-dory, that’s the moment they’ll choose to pull the rug out from underneath you, deliver their merciless coup de grâce. And when you’re on the floor staring up at him with that look on your face that says, in an Olivia Rodrigo intonation, “You betrayed me,” he’ll only look back you with an expression that says, “Well, really, what did you expect?” 

The crazy thing is that I’ve read enough Jacqueline Susann early on in life to have learned my lesson about how all men turn out to be cads that will abandon you for all manner of arbitrary reasons. Usually ones stemming from the “health and well-being” of their dick. So I guess what kills me is that I really didn’t think it would be him to do this to me. I didn’t think he would ever be capable of causing such harm, such emotional fallout. For once, I believed that maybe it was true: that love can last. Silly me to not remember that it always, always has an expiration date. Yet I must not make him upset with the reminders of what he once said, words I took as divine gospel rather than meaningless drivel likely pulled from a book of sonnets that could be found at one of those stalls along the Seine. And likely words he’ll soon deliver to some other easy mark in what will amount to one of many installments in the franchise called Men Say Shit They Don’t Mean to Reel Women In, Then When They Become Too Into It, They’re Tossed Back in the River. Anyway, why should men ever be upset about anything? That’s “women’s work,” is it not? I actually reckon even if you did try to make them upset with the facts of your case presented (Exhibit A: “You told me you’d love me forever on May 22, 2017”), they would only be momentarily rattled before tuning you out or blocking you altogether. After all, they have the business of getting on with their lives to tend to.