ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

The Breakup

Updated on September 20, 2011
An argument...
An argument... | Source

A Personal Choice…

This hasn't been my longest relationship. Neither has it been my shortest. That’s the nature of relationships, I suppose. They end…with the ending rarely being as nice as the beginnings.

The butterflies of excitement that flutter into your life at the establishment of the relationship have, long since, been replaced by the frustrated flapping of moths trying to escape into any conceivable bright flame…regardless of the consequence…

In terms of longevity…the overall ‘tale of the tape’, as it were, on my marriage didn’t suck. We courted for a year, we lived in sin for a year, and then we got married. The blessed nuptials didn’t last a year.

In fact, I have bought deli meat that lasted longer than the actual marriage. Honestly. I was signing divorce paperwork while eating honey-baked ham purchased on our honeymoon. Honeymoon honey-baked ham…

This isn’t the relationship I am speaking of, however. I merely mention it as a commentary on the transitionary nature of relationships. And (I have to be honest) if affords me a rather unique opportunity to type, ‘honeymoon honey-baked ham,’ a goal that I had set for myself earlier this morning when I woke up…

No. This isn’t to be a rehash of those horrible months preceding the separation. Nor is it to be a review of the numerous complaints lodged and fought over for, seemingly, ad nausea.

No. After all…most of the complaints were hers…if she wishes to sully the good name of Thought Sandwiches in print…why…she can just join and craft her own clever hub.

No. I’m not here to sling mud. That’s not my way. Besides…that all happened nine years ago. My current problem was sitting across the table from me…

A VNAF UH-1H Huey loaded with Vietnamese evacuees on the deck of the U.S. aircraft carrier USS Midway (CV-41) during Operation Frequent Wind, 29 April 1975.
A VNAF UH-1H Huey loaded with Vietnamese evacuees on the deck of the U.S. aircraft carrier USS Midway (CV-41) during Operation Frequent Wind, 29 April 1975. | Source
A North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) Logo.
A North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) Logo. | Source


They say that opposites attract…A good thing for a unique individual such as myself…for few would willingly admit to a similarity in thought processes as me. I don’t necessarily believe, however, that opposites stay together. Relationships are hard work. They are not all about jocularity and pockets full of pinochle decks…although they should be…

This problem of opposites is only exacerbated when my every random nonsensical comment (of which I am known for) becomes the subject of a long drawn out policy debate regarding this, that, and (very sinisterly), them…The art of casual banter was utterly lost on the girl.

“These nachos are good,” I said as I inched my way into the verbal minefield.

We were in a restaurant that we had frequented before. It was a family-owned Mexican place with good food and an ambience that fell somewhere in between romantic and not-romantic. She liked the food. I always found it odd that she could love the food…and hate the people. Still…there were no Canadian places in town…

Tonight I viewed the eatery as my extraction point. In military parlance…I was getting out and I expected the LZ to be hot…

I idly speculated on how this had come to pass as she expounded on how President Clinton’s NAFTA policy had totally upended the entire domestic nacho industry in the United States…


I actually did know how this sorry state of affairs had come to pass. I had just wanted to have some fun. Get laid…catch some movies…enjoy the occasional dinner…that’s all I was really looking for in this affair. I’m a simple person. The dynamics when we first met were suggestive of such an arrangement…

That simple façade had cracked open on our last date…We were at her house sitting on the couch as the DVD was cuing up…

Oysters | Source
Salvelinus leucomaen...
Salvelinus leucomaen... | Source
The Short Bus...
The Short Bus... | Source
"Eugenics is the self-direction of human evolution": Logo from the Second International Eugenics Conference, 1921, depicting it as a tree which unites a variety of different fields.[1]
"Eugenics is the self-direction of human evolution": Logo from the Second International Eugenics Conference, 1921, depicting it as a tree which unites a variety of different fields.[1] | Source

Fiery Political Oratory…about Oysters…?

I had a small percentage of my brain noodle-ing a writing problem…specifically, what would be the best way to pepper my next article with the word ‘oyster’ in it…for no apparent reason…while still maintaining the narrative integrity of the piece. An intellectual exercise really. It was within this context that I said the word ‘oyster’…out loud…

“Oh, I hate retarded babies,” were actually the first words that registered to me that she was speaking.

“Excuse me?” I asked as I, not only attempted to get on the same page as her…but tried to figure out which book she was looking at…

“You said oyster,” she launches into her latest diatribe, “That just got me thinking…oysters live in the water…so do salmon…salmon eggs are called roe…Row v. Wade. Abortion.” She took a deep breath before continuing…

“There are tests to determine whether a child is going to be retarded or not before they are born…if they are…I think they should be aborted.”

She finished matter-of factly as she grabbed up a Lay’s Ruffle from the bowl on the table and dipped it in the onion dip before taking a bite.

I was not only startled…but taken aback. The shear mental meandering required to get from ‘oysters’ to aborting retarded babies was mathematically…well…as mysterious and unknowable as…mathematics…

“Um…” I was at a loss for words. My libido was already heading to the car and he tended to do the majority of the thinking for us. “Um…wait…what?”

“Well it’s frightfully expensive to educate special needs children in the school system…” She began a fairly lengthy accounting of budgetary numbers versus the comparative educational dollar…blah…returned on the…blah…education of…blah…”It’s a matter…blah…of personal responsibility on blah the part of the parents. Why should I have to pay for them?” She (thankfully) finished.

“Um…wait…what?” I marshaled my thoughts on her couch as my libido sat in the car…impatiently sounding the horn every few moments… “But…you’re a Republican…? You’re not supposed to like abortion…” Yeah…weak presentation of rhetorical skills…again…I was taken aback…

Right to Deathers
Right to Deathers | Source
Winning family of a Fitter Family contest stand outside of the Eugenics Building (where contestants register) at the Kansas Free Fair, in Topeka, KS
Winning family of a Fitter Family contest stand outside of the Eugenics Building (where contestants register) at the Kansas Free Fair, in Topeka, KS | Source
"Death was my only public option"
"Death was my only public option" | Source

Are you hearing this shit...?

She promptly moved in to clarify her position, in no uncertain terms, (as if a future political run for office would be held in the balance upon my misinterpretation of her views)…

”Oh…abortion is wrong. It is also wrong for these retarded babies to live like that. And wrong for these parents to think I should have to pay for it. Who would want these retarded babies?It’s just a matter of personal responsibility.”

She nodded as if that talking point had been nailed down tighter than the lid on an aborted child’s coffin. The unsavory smells of the Eugenics Movement began to fill her living room.

“I believe the parents would be wanting those babies,” I reasoned.“ After all…with these tests you speak of…they knew going in that that their child would be disadvantaged…they chose to make that loving commitment.”

“Exactly!” She seized on my statement. “They made the commitment. Not me. They should pay for any required extra services if they decide to have it.” There were bubbles of spit gathering in the corner of her mouth as she stoutly defends her position.

I had recently written a hard hitting piece of investigative journalism regarding the outrages committed in orphanages. That Pulitzer-possible article was at the front of my mind when I asked, “ What about orphan babies?”

“No problem. No parents.”

“But who would make these decisions? A death panel…”

Her mouth turned downward in disgust. The look on her face suggested that I had just told her that I wanted to conduct an unnatural sex act on her…which in her case would have been anything other than the missionary position…

“No!” She stated vehemently, “Sarah Palin told me that that was Obama’s plan! These would be called ‘Not Allowed to Live Panels’…”

Citing a suddenly explosive case of diarrhea…I left and joined libido in the car,

“What the fuck?” Asks libido.


Ford Model T Field Ambulance 1916 canvas on wood frame model used extensively by the British & French as well as the American Expeditionary Force in The Great War. Top speed 45mph from a 4 cylinder water cooled engine.
Ford Model T Field Ambulance 1916 canvas on wood frame model used extensively by the British & French as well as the American Expeditionary Force in The Great War. Top speed 45mph from a 4 cylinder water cooled engine. | Source

Thank God for Caller ID….

I spent the intervening week treating her like a bill collector. A coffee meeting on Wednesday was simply blown off. Calls went unanswered and unreturned. I was being a dick. I didn’t want to deal with it. I exhibited all the male signs of immaturity in this regard. Until now…back at the Mexican restaurant…

“What happened to you on Wednesday,” she was asking me.

“Huh?” I delayed.

“We were supposed to get coffee,” she ventured, “You never even called.”

I reached down deep for a remembered dialogue sequence from the 1980s sit-com ‘Soap.’

“Yes, a truck-load of hogs overturned on the highway and backed-up traffic for miles. I think pig entrails interfere with cell-phone reception…I couldn’t get a signal…”

“Really?” She asked concerned.

“No.” I admitted.


“Yeah,” I blurted, “We’re done. I can’t hang with this anymore…I mean we can’t have a normal conversation without you citing public policy regulations and whatnot…yeah…we’re done.” I finished simply.

“But…but…I thought we were doing pretty well.”

“By what possible unit of measurement can you say that we were doing pretty well?”

“Well I would talk to you about important issues and you would listen and nod.”

“I was nodding off into a coma. And…not for nothing…you may wish to hone your ‘casual-banter’ skills. Not everything needs to be ‘Death penalty’ important.”

“With the proper application of death penalty protocols…” She stopped as I looked at her over my glasses.

“So,” I ask myself, “Do you want me to leave…or do you want to leave?”

When she doesn't respond, I reach forward and click the “un-follow” icon under the topic of ‘Politics and Social Issues’ on Hubpages and she disappeared from the other side of the table. The air became a little cleaner…weight became a little lighter…and food tasted a slight bit better…

The waitress came up to the table…

“Will the lady be returning?” She inquired politely.

I looked at her happily, “No…I don’t believe she will be.”

The waitress hesitated before saying, “She wasn’t very pleasant.” Encouraged by my nod, she continued, “We want you to know that nobody ever spit in your food…just hers. Would you like anything else?”

Pondering my options (and responsibilities) I asked, “Do you think you could manage an oyster-shooter?”

As she went to get my order I did the necessary math…that makes seven surreptitiously entries of the word oyster in this article. Well…eight surreptitiously entries of the word oyster…um…nine…


This website uses cookies

As a user in the EEA, your approval is needed on a few things. To provide a better website experience, uses cookies (and other similar technologies) and may collect, process, and share personal data. Please choose which areas of our service you consent to our doing so.

For more information on managing or withdrawing consents and how we handle data, visit our Privacy Policy at:

Show Details
HubPages Device IDThis is used to identify particular browsers or devices when the access the service, and is used for security reasons.
LoginThis is necessary to sign in to the HubPages Service.
Google RecaptchaThis is used to prevent bots and spam. (Privacy Policy)
AkismetThis is used to detect comment spam. (Privacy Policy)
HubPages Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide data on traffic to our website, all personally identifyable data is anonymized. (Privacy Policy)
HubPages Traffic PixelThis is used to collect data on traffic to articles and other pages on our site. Unless you are signed in to a HubPages account, all personally identifiable information is anonymized.
Amazon Web ServicesThis is a cloud services platform that we used to host our service. (Privacy Policy)
CloudflareThis is a cloud CDN service that we use to efficiently deliver files required for our service to operate such as javascript, cascading style sheets, images, and videos. (Privacy Policy)
Google Hosted LibrariesJavascript software libraries such as jQuery are loaded at endpoints on the or domains, for performance and efficiency reasons. (Privacy Policy)
Google Custom SearchThis is feature allows you to search the site. (Privacy Policy)
Google MapsSome articles have Google Maps embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
Google ChartsThis is used to display charts and graphs on articles and the author center. (Privacy Policy)
Google AdSense Host APIThis service allows you to sign up for or associate a Google AdSense account with HubPages, so that you can earn money from ads on your articles. No data is shared unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
Google YouTubeSome articles have YouTube videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
VimeoSome articles have Vimeo videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
PaypalThis is used for a registered author who enrolls in the HubPages Earnings program and requests to be paid via PayPal. No data is shared with Paypal unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
Facebook LoginYou can use this to streamline signing up for, or signing in to your Hubpages account. No data is shared with Facebook unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
MavenThis supports the Maven widget and search functionality. (Privacy Policy)
Google AdSenseThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Google DoubleClickGoogle provides ad serving technology and runs an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Index ExchangeThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
SovrnThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Facebook AdsThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Amazon Unified Ad MarketplaceThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
AppNexusThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
OpenxThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Rubicon ProjectThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
TripleLiftThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Say MediaWe partner with Say Media to deliver ad campaigns on our sites. (Privacy Policy)
Remarketing PixelsWe may use remarketing pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to advertise the HubPages Service to people that have visited our sites.
Conversion Tracking PixelsWe may use conversion tracking pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to identify when an advertisement has successfully resulted in the desired action, such as signing up for the HubPages Service or publishing an article on the HubPages Service.
Author Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide traffic data and reports to the authors of articles on the HubPages Service. (Privacy Policy)
ComscoreComScore is a media measurement and analytics company providing marketing data and analytics to enterprises, media and advertising agencies, and publishers. Non-consent will result in ComScore only processing obfuscated personal data. (Privacy Policy)
Amazon Tracking PixelSome articles display amazon products as part of the Amazon Affiliate program, this pixel provides traffic statistics for those products (Privacy Policy)
ClickscoThis is a data management platform studying reader behavior (Privacy Policy)