Things I've Learned From Women Who've Dumped Me - Ben Karlin [59]
The answer is quite simple, really. Date a stripper.
Strippers are our country’s most precious resource for keeping people together, and humble, and happy. Forget about counseling. Forget about that weekend retreat to Sedona. And forget about self-help books featuring any of the following words: Secret, Code, Steps, Life, Love, Power, Triumph, or Borderline Personality Disorder.
Doubt me? Take these paired examples as all the proof you need:
Arguments
My wife at her worst:
Sometimes yells. Sometimes conflates one mistake I’ve made into a global condemnation of my character. When I point this out, she relents, laughs at herself, and apologizes.
My stripper ex-girlfriend at her best:
CHIVAS [her stripper name, not her real name]: You didn’t introduce me to your friend.
ME: Whuh? [It’s 4:17 a.m., and she’s woken me up.]
CHIVAS: Two days ago. When we were on Larchmont and those people you knew came up. There were three of them and you only introduced me to two.
ME: Mike and Millie? Those were the only two I knew. I didn’t know the third person, so I didn’t know his name—it was a friend of theirs.
CHIVAS: WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING WITH THAT MOTHERFUCKING MIX TAPE, YOU FAGGOT?
ME: What?!
CHIVAS: (Louder, over the sound of her two pit bulls, both of which are now furiously barking) I HATE ROXY MUSIC!
ME: What . . . what . . . wait . . .
CHIVAS: You think I like listening to that shit? Make a different fuck mix.
ME: Uh . . .
CHIVAS: Is that why you didn’t introduce me to your gay friend on the street?
ME: What the fuck are you talking about? Why are you waking me up now?
CHIVAS: My dad molested me and my dogs hate you.
Finances
My wife at her worst:
Buys a lot of, in my opinion, overpriced skin care products.
My stripper ex-girlfriend at her best:
CHIVAS: So, you’re going to start work in a movie next week?
ME: Yeah. It should be fun.
CHIVAS: I need to borrow some money.
ME: What for? You okay?
CHIVAS: My landlord is a Nazi Hitler.
ME: What’s wrong?
CHIVAS: He’s all like, “You haven’t paid rent in five months, and if you don’t cough up the money, I’m going to be a total Hitler and padlock your apartment.”
ME: Why haven’t you paid your rent?
CHIVAS: WHAT ARE YOU, MY DAD?
[bark bark bark bark bark bark]
Your Chance to be a Hero
My wife at her worst:
Sometimes sleeps until noon, depressed about a writing project that’s stalled, and needs reassurance about her skills.
My stripper ex-girlfriend at her best:
CHIVAS: Where the fuck are you?
ME: I’m, uh, at work. It’s Tuesday and I’m at work like I always am.
CHIVAS: The police in El Segundo are goddamn Nazi Hitlers.
ME: Oh.
CHIVAS: I need bail money.
ME: Holy shit, what happened?
CHIVAS: They let these old ladies with Alzheimer’s disease drive school buses in El Segundo.
ME: Oh shit.
CHIVAS: And this bitch blocks the intersection suddenly, like out of nowhere, and now the front of my car is mulched and CAN YOU FUCKING GET DOWN HERE?!
SHERIFF IN BACKGROUND: Language.
CHIVAS: Oh, bite my clit you Naz–
Phone is hung up for her.
Extended Family
My wife’s family, at their worst:
Typical kookiness and social awkwardness, alleviated by genuine charm, love, and understanding.
My stripper ex-girlfriend’s family, at their best:
ME: You feeling okay?
CHIVAS: Yeah, sweetie.
ME: It’s just that . . . I want you to know I’m here for you, and especially afterward, if things are uncomfortable. We can talk.
CHIVAS: What’re you talking about?
ME: You know, what he did to you.
CHIVAS: And what exactly did he do to me?
ME: You said he molested you.
Chivas’ father and his new girlfriend, who’s younger than Chivas and looks almost exactly like Chivas, enter the Sizzler where we’re meeting for dinner.
CHIVAS: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WHEN THE FUCK DID I SAY THAT?