I'm sorry, I can't with überEmo Dude

Step yo' game up - don't be überEmo Dude.
emo - as I'm defining it - emotional to a fault, dramatic to a fail. Take that to the nth power and you have überEmo.

A BougieTale: I was dating Ron the Banker in San Francisco. I chatted about him briefly in my post about Purple Rain awhile back. Yes, I dubbed him Ron the Banker and I've never been able to think of him as anything else. Though the phrases "stank-breath" and "fungus fingers" also come to mind. Believe me when I say - you DON'T want to know. (Talk about gamekillers!)

Moving on. Ron took me to see Titanic. I'm a romantic at heart, I loved that darn movie though admittedly it took forever for the ship to sink. Someone behind me shouted at the screen, "Drown already!" Much as I liked the over the top love-survives-anything plot line, right about the time that Leo was looking kinda blue about the gills and pleading "promise me you'll go on"; I looked over to see Ron the Banker sobbing. Not a little dignified tear but out and out boo-to-hooing, snot running, gasping for breath sobs. He reached for my hand, grabbed on and said, "Swear you'll never leave me like that." 


After a few beats of really uncomfortable silence, I patted his hand and muttered, "You'll be alright." A few days later, he came by (without calling first - no!) and said he had a gift for me. The box was beautiful. I opened the small square package to find... a toy castle. It was plastic, painted silver with fake crystals on top the turrets. "Oh wow," was the best I could do. He gave me a big hug and said, "This is until I can get you the real thing. You're my queen."

Okay, stop right there. I already hear you all saying "that sounds sweet" but believe me when I say I cannot properly convey the pressed and urgent pathos in his every word and look and thought and deed. His favorite conversation killer was, "I want to know every single thing about you. I want to get deeper inside your mind and body than anyone ever has. I want to be a part of you." A little bit eew and ick. Ninja, back it up. Slow it down and let a sister breathe.

I told him, "I'm not the one to talk about every waking thought and feeling. You're going to have to just let me breathe a little bit." It didn't take. When he was happy, he called to share it. "Let's go bike riding in the park." When he was sad, he called to share it. "Come sit and look at the Bay with me." When he was "in the mood," he called to share it. "Do you know what I want to do to you right now?" When he saw something he thought was amazing, he called to share it. "Have you ever really looked at fog?" Brother, no. Just no.

I invited him out to dinner to share my mounting concerns. "You just feel things more strongly than I do. I don't require quite this much sharing." This caused him to pout. Visibly. In Public. Ruined a perfectly excellent dinner at Houston's on the Embarcadero. He was short-tempered and surly for the rest of the meal. I was so through, I paid before they brought the entrée just to hasten the end of the evening. He said that me paying for dinner was "the flyest thing any chick has ever done for me." 

As we walked up the hill towards his car, he put his hand back in the universal 'let's hold hands' gesture... seriously. After the temper tantrum in the restaurant? Seriously? When I declined the honor of holding his hand, he muttered, "You are so hard to please. I stay awake at night trying to figure out how to be the best me for you. And you can't even see it."

Let me stop again. I had just moved to California. At this time, I hadn't been there for more than a few months. I knew eight people total. Three of whom I was dating. So if Ron the Banker was borderline bunny-boiling crazy, I didn't see it right away. But can you guess who got cut first? Now granted, I'm just not prone to excessive mood swings but even if I was, there's no reason to broadcast every emotion as they happen. That's exhausting. It took me two months to break up with Ron the Banker. Mostly because I was afraid he would a) turn stalker b) turn suicidal or c) go overdramatic. He went full-out C.

He sent me emails and voicemails with subject headers like, "You are my air." WDDDA? A few months later, I was waiting at the Union Square Cheesecake Factory for a to go order and I saw him standing in line waiting on a table. He had his arms wrapped with python grip around a girl who looked a little like me. Her facial expression was definitely one I was familiar with. It said, "How did I get here?!" I'm not ashamed to say that as he turned his head my direction, I ducked and cowered behind a booth under the pretense of tying my shoe. I did not rise until they called my order out. And then yes, I fled like the hounds of hell were chasing me.

You know what the most irritating, karma blowback thing is? The other guy I was dating at that time- I was dying to know what he thought and how he felt. I wished he could've been a bit more emo. I had no clue what was going on in his head. And when I asked, all I ever would get is, "Babe, we cool." Arrgh. Something in between "We cool" and "You are my air" works just fine, thank you very much. 

So tell me BougieLand, what are your thoughts on the überEmo Dude? Is it that we expect men to be a tad more stoic and contained than women? Or is too emotional just too damn emotional no matter who it's coming from? The floor is yours...