DUDE DATING WITH J-TRAIN: GETTING BACK TOGETHER

The J-Train is coming through and he’s got the dating advice you need!
From the long line of WWN advice columns (i.e. Dear Dotti, Ask a Chimp, etc) comes a new breed of intrepid advice giver. It’s Jared Freid aka J-Train. A frequent dater and lover..
Dude Dating with J-Train: Get Back Together?
Q. My boyfriend and I have been broken up for about two months and he wants to get back together. I’m debating what to do because he told me he had sex with someone else during our break. He said he loved me. How could he do that? I’m not sure if I can just let this go. Train, what do you think? – Rachel Berry, Lima, OH
So, I have this friend who’s pretty liberal, and after a few drinks he loves to tell me how Glenn Beck or Bill O’Reilly offended him this week; and I sit there generally ignoring him because no one cares. But I always ask the same question, ‘If you hate them so much then why do you watch?’ And guess what? He never has an answer. But I think I do; arguing with something – especially with something that can’t argue back – is the easiest way to convince yourself that you’re right. It’s comforting to know that the world as you know it is remaining that way; and, weirdly, a lot of us derive our comfort from agitation. And so it goes with my mortal enemy and me: romantic comedies. That’s right; I watch A LOT of romantic comedies (I even saw All About Steve – and if it wasn’t for Sandra Bullock teaching that obese kid how to block – she would be dead to me). I hate them, don’t get me wrong, but I have this masochistic obsession with seeing just how wrong they get everything: sexless, skinny-jeans-wearing heroes with hearts of gold; put-upon princesses; and the belief that real love can only derive from the most dramatic of circumstances. If Katherine Heigl gets her way, an entire generation of young women will wait around for ‘Mr. Right’ and then die years later – with their skeletal remains being found at a table for one. And then the Machines will win.
Anyway, in an act of self-flagellation, I took a date to go see Love and Other Drugs this past weekend.  It actually wasn’t bad. It got a few things wrong (i.e. thinking that fake Jonah Hill looking kid is funny) and a few things right (i.e. that people have sex while naked; the idea that strictly sexual relationships can turn into actual relationships; blow jobs). The one thing they got extremely right is in a scene at the end where Jake Gyllenhall’s character bangs two chicks (at the same time) while on a break from Anne Hathaway’s character. But, while the little orgy was great film, what happened after was even better…nothing. Absolutely nothing. I mean, the movie went on, of course, but there was no big dramatic confession of ‘infidelity’; no big fight between the lead characters followed by thoughtful scenes of them walking through the city (while a gently plucked Ray LaMontagne song plays in the background); not even a mention of what just occurred. It was beautiful.
What I’m saying here is that men want to sleep with women (shocking, I know). We should all wear mandatory tee shirts that say ‘Boners Happen.’ It’s ingrained in our psyche, an evolutionary need, a holdover from hundreds of thousands of years of breeding in order to forward a species (Ever been to a zoo? I’ve never seen a guy monkey take a girl monkey to a movie before banging in front of the Asian tourists.) And all of a sudden, we are meant to apologize for this? Relationships, at their crudest level, are an agreement; ‘I like/love you so much, that I am willing to put aside this desire because I want to share my life with you at this particular time – and I can expect weekly blow jobs without kissing.’ I may even make future girlfriends sign a piece of paper that says that (BJ part included). You, dear reader, broke the agreement. And love and sex isn’t the same thing.
I said earlier that we all derive some comfort from agitation. That’s exactly what will happen; you will argue with your boyfriend about how he must never have loved you, you will shame him, make him wait, emotionally torture him by acting wounded until he admits what a mistake he’s made. But it won’t be the truth. It’s only what you want to be the truth. Truth is, when you tell someone you don’t want to date them anymore, a guy will have a tough time turning down the overweight chick with tequila breath. Believe me, I get it, it sucks to know someone you care about slept with someone else, so if you can’t move past it, then end it. But if you can realize that what you want (a romantic comedy boyfriend) isn’t a real thing, then forgive him, move on, and never mention it again. You’ll both be happier for it.
You’re Welcome,
Train.


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