• Wed, May 30 2012

Dating Hijinks: That Time I Was Almost Dumped By A Fella In A Skirt

If he had been in a dress, it was 1992 and his name was Kurt Cobain, then it would have been OK. This guy was no Kurt.

On Wednesdays, Amanda Chatel will be sharing stories about her strange, fascinating and sometimes wonderful dating life. If it makes you want to date, check out TheGloss dating page.

“What is that?” I asked.

“My notes,” said G as he sat next to me on the couch.

“And what’s that?” I asked pointing to the lower half of his body.

“What?”

“You’re wearing a skirt.”

“It’s a sarong,” he explained.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m trying something new. Sometimes a man needs to try something new.”

“A man?”

“Yes, Mandy, I’m a man.”

“But you’re a man in a skirt,” I said. I was too stunned to laugh. “Oh, look, you even have some pink in your skirt.” I reached down to feel the fabric. It was a cross between a rayon and a linen, if that’s even possible. When he stood, it was a couple inches below his knee, and yes, it did have pink in it – and violet and emerald green, too.

“This is serious. We need to talk about us now,” he snapped sliding away from me on the couch.

I got up to turn on the air conditioner. It was mid-July and after the sun shone on the windowpane all afternoon, the apartment had started to feel like a tropical rain forest. I turned around and looked at G; he had just cut his hair short, almost Marine-style cropped, and it revealed a dusting of grey along the sides. His dark-rimmed glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, and when I walked toward him, he bit his lip the way he always did when he thought he was getting his way. I sat back down, close to him, and put my hand on his knee.

“How can it be serious if you’re wearing a skirt?” I asked condescendingly.

“Margaret suggested it. She said it’s important for me to get in touch with my feminine side.”

“Her name is Margaret? Oh, darling, that’s rich!”

“You’re so rude. This is why we have to end things immediately,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be rude if you weren’t wearing a skirt. And sitting on my couch. And…”

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“I don’t think so either. You’re a man in a skirt,” I said.

“Why can’t you be serious?” he asked angrily.

“Because you’re a man in a skirt, G! How can anyone be serious around you?” I jumped up and stared at him. “You’re in a fucking skirt! You came to my apartment, with notes, in a skirt! A skirt!”

If he thought he was going to end things with me while wearing a skirt (he could call it a sarong all he wanted; I wasn’t going to use that word), he was out of his mind. Once a fella wearing women’s apparel dumps you, you immediately slide down several points on the bell curve. I did not have the necessary genes or personality to crawl my way back up the few notches I would have fallen had I let him have control of the situation.

As he went to unfold his notes, I beat him to it: “I’ve been seeing other people. Lots of people. Like over a fifty,” I said. Obviously this statement was extremely believable. “So technically, I ended this first and you can put your notes away,” I continued. He didn’t seem to be listening.

“After lots of thought and even more tears, I think we should date other people… wait,” he said, “let’s skip that part and start here: It’s been a great four months and there are a lot of memories…”

“Four months? Ugh. Seems longer. Don’t you think it seems longer?” I asked.

G sighed and glared at me. “Can I continue? Where was I? Oh, there are a lot of memories and I know we’ll always be friends…”

“I find it fascinating that you’re still reading your notes. You’re not embarrassed?”

“Why would I be embarrassed?” he asked.

“Because you’re wearing a skirt and reading break-up notes. I’d be embarrassed if I were you.”

“Okay, this is going nowhere. We’re not seeing each other anymore. How are you taking it?”

“Fine. Did you think I was going to cry?” I asked.

“Well, I thought you’d be upset about it.”

“Why? There’s nothing here to miss. I have a greater connection with that old dude across the street who sits in the lawn chair all day.” I pointed to the old dude I could see from my window who, I might add, I did say “hello” to every morning.

G shook his head. “You’re impossible. Can I have my book back before I leave? The one I let you borrow, although I know you never did.”

“I never read it because I don’t read that type of malarkey,” I explained.

“It was a really great book, Mandy. It’s my favorite so when you insult it, you insult me,” said G in an overly dramatic tone.

“The only reason it’s your favorite, G, is because it’s the only book you’ve ever read.”

“Either way, just give me my fucking book.”

“Can’t. I don’t have it. I threw it out.”

“Why? Who throws out a book?”

“I was uncomfortable with it sitting on my bookshelf. I had friends over — I couldn’t let them think I read The Da Vinci Code. I have standards.”

“You’re so immature,” said G. He stood up, but not before pulling his skirt back a bit as if to make room for his elaborate exit. He stared at me for a minute without saying a word, then leaned in to hug me goodbye. Just as his fingertips reached my bare shoulders I pulled away.

“You’re wearing a skirt because your new lady friend suggested you do so. Based on that alone, I don’t think you’re in any position to pass judgement on me,” I said quietly. I was trying to restrain myself from something; I just didn’t realize what just yet.

“Have a nice life, Mandy,” said G as he walked to the doorway.

“That’s a original,” I balked. I didn’t look in his direction until I heard the door shut. I walked to my room and fell backward onto my bed. I immediately started to cry. I called my sister and tried to formulate the words of what had just occurred, but couldn’t.

“Just breathe, then tell me what happened,” she said.

“G,” I started with my trembling voice, “he –he just tried to break up with me… and — and… he was wearing a skirt.”

“What do you mean? Like one of your skirts?”

“No. He came over wearing a skirt and tried to end things with me, but I did it first.” I had finally gained some composure so I could push out those few words.

“So you’re crying because you almost got dumped by a guy in a skirt, right?”

“Yes!” I yelled, “I’m not crying over him obviously!”

“You know,” said my sister, “you can never tell anyone this; you can never let anyone know you were almost dumped by a skirted-boy.”

“I know!” I yelled again, “I should go take a shower or something — like wipe away my mascara and the memory of the skirt.”

“Can I ask you something first?”

“Of course,” I sighed.

“Was the skirt at least pretty?”

“Well, the fabric was okay, but it wasn’t something I’d wear,” I said surprisingly serious about the matter.

“He always did have a really bad sense of style,” she said, “one can only imagine how badly that would cross over into women’s wear as well.” As usual, my sister was right.

I headed to the bathroom, turned on the water and let it run until the room was steamy. I washed G’s attempt at a hug from my body, and scrubbed my fingertips clean from the touch of his skirt. I do hope, wherever he is, that was his first and last foray into the world of skirts, or as he called it that day, a “sarong.” Honestly, I can’t pull off the color orange and he can’t pull off a skirt. It’s just how things go sometimes, and there’s no sense in fighting it.

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  • Larissa

    You totally beat him to the punch. You win. By like half a second…but you still win the breakup. Plus he was wearing a skirt (not a kilt, a SKIRT that was not even flattering) so you win at life.

    • Amanda Chatel

      High-five!

    • Charles

      Another style selfish female saying the only alternative to pants for men is a kilt. Are men saying there’s only 1 specific trouser type allowable for women to wear, and that it must be based on some foreign ethnic culture? And implying kilts aren’t skirts is as bad as saying “it’s a Ford Mustang, not an automobile.” FYI you DUMMY, you would NOT be free to wear pants now except factory work in World War 2 sent 17 million USA women into pants, which originally they got from their male relatives! In June 1943 Evelyn Bross was ARRESTED by Chicago police, taken before judge, and ordered to see psychiatrist for SIX MONTHS—because she was CAUGHT wearing PANTS! By 1944 due to the needs of the war effort, city ordinances against women in pants, and psychiatric interference in that area of civil rights, was swept away. Another problem you have is great resistance to letting new ideas into your thinking. You’re used to seeing kilts on men; other styles you are NOT used to! You’re used to having a STRANGLEHOLD on skirt styles, and if you lose it, you’re gonna lose lots of POWER over men! You want men to dress like CLOWNS! “Pants” comes from Pantalone, a clown in the medieval Italian Comedy of the Arts! If anything, men have superior claim to skirts due to anatomy. Men can justify need for free space in the crotch more so than women. Another of the LONG LIST of BASIC FACTS you know nothing about!

  • Marian

    A Lava-lava (a Samoan short Sarong) on a man can look quite good, and when a dark colour and worn with a shirt and suit jacket is formal wear.
    That Sarong just sounds awful.

  • Aditi

    Forget the skirt. The guy reads Da Vinci Code??

    And he brought notes to break up with you? As in I-am-not-a-grown-man-capable-of-spontaneous-conversation-so-I-brought-my-notes …..

    You know you are well rid of him. In fact send him over to me, I may have some more Dan Browns and Sidney Sheldons he can take off my hands.

  • Patricia

    a rayon and a linen “sarong”? You really doged a bullet.

    p.s: seeing as I’m not from an english-speaking country, I had to google “sarong” and a picture of Kim Kardashian at the beach popped up. So if this guy is reading this: your new ladyfriend suggested you dress like Kim Kardashian.

  • aslan

    Sorry to hear what happened… but sorry, I think he beat you to it and dumped you… That was his gameplan all along, so he threw on a skirt, something he knew you’d hate, then let you think you were in control and ending it…. no guy seriously needs notes to dump a girl.

    As for the DaVinchi code he sounds live a weirdo anyway…

    Skirts – or should I say kilts – for men are unfortunately the next trend…. (see Kanye West) :)

  • Hey.randoms

    … I’d be more embarrassed about having wasted four months with this guy. Breakup notes?
    And yet, somehow, he clearly won the breakup here. He televised his intentions, trying to act in a totally inauthentic contrivance of “appropriate” behavior as over-compensation for his obviously stunted personal development; you responded like a twelve year old by trying to ridicule him, and then repeat your attempt at rationalizing your superiority in this semi-anonymous echo chamber. Not that I’m blaming you. Clearly, he’s ridicule-worthy. But the fact that you even considered dating this stain on society suggests that you were either A) succesfully using him as a sex device, or B) in desperate need of better advice from your sister.

  • Charles

    Women are incredibly sexist. They took over everything men wear except athletic supporters. But reciprocity is unthinkable. It’s about controlling men (“only WE can wear skirts”). Everything bad being said by half wits about men in skirts was once said about women in pants. Women in pants were under “permanent mental hallucination,” New York Times, May 27, 1876, page 6 editorial “A Curious Disease.” In 1993 JC Penney fired a woman for wearing slacks to work. Females like the commentator here put out that style rights for them are a given, but for men, her innuendo is “perversion.” Hell, the Romans exiled men in pants in AD393. Pants are for horseback riding you moron! Skirts are sex neutral—where’s the difference of anatomical interface? You equate mere tradition with biology, what a discriminatory imbecile you are, the Greek army has a unit of men in PLEATED skirts right now! And you man-haters can’t STOP them from wearing them, haw haw!

  • gusto

    bit narrow minded,a sarong is mens wear