A Three-Bananas-Split

Every now and then, you have a doozy of a weekend.

On Friday, the bf and I broke up. OVER IM. Let's not even get into it because it will seriously result in a page-long rant that no one wants to read and I don't have time to write. (Let's just say "post-it-note" and leave it at that.) BF and I decided to do the inevitable stuff-swap on Sunday.

I've only had three real break-ups...okay, fine two...so I have not had much time to refine my break-up coping mechanism. On Saturday, Voxqueror and I wanted to visit the MCA for the last weekend of the Andy Warhol exhibit. Our plan was to go at 10:00 in the morning and then I would go to work afterwards.

Well....a funny thing happened on the way to the MCA. And that funny thing was called THE MALL. I'm not sure how many stores we visited, but uh, we had to make a trip back to the car before we could go to the museum. Among the items I purchased was a three-piece suit, for which I had to go to all three Banana Republics on Michigan Avenue to get all the correct sizes for the jacket, skirt and pants. Nothing I bought was on sale. In all likelihood, I unfortunately will have to go through more break-ups in the future, so I am making an open plea for help in advance: next time, please, someone, take my debit card away from me.

We did make it to the MCA* somewhere around 2:30p. Voxqueror held my hand through two very depressing exhibits. It was definitely worth the visit, but I don't think seeing it post-break-up was the best idea. And needless to say, I did not go to work on Saturday.

And as for the stuff-swap. Well, I think I'm still too close to it to say much, but it was one of the weirder experiences of my life. To be honest, despite my attempts to be as clear as possible without being rude, I think he thinks we're not really broken up. I guess my break-up technique could also use some work. All I know is if I have to through a second break-up, I might just break the bank, too.**

---
* Contrary to reports from Rapunzel, Voxqueror and I did not see a single phallus at the MCA. I think I must have scared them all into hiding. Either that or Rapunzel is hallucinating. I'm going to go with the former because what museum of contemporary art doesn't have a penis on the wall??? I mean, come on, even our law school had them in the halls....

**In case you were wondering, the going rate for a twelve-week relationship is evidently in the neighborhood of $900.