Two Straight Men - Christopher Allen Poe and N.L. Belardes on “How to break up with a fast talker”

Christopher Allen Poe - “The Manipulator”

I recently received an email from a close friend:

Hey what’s up man, sorry I haven't been around lately, but Jessica is a nightmare. No matter how many times we break up, we somehow end up back together. She's been driving by my house late at night to check up on me. She been going through my emails and deleting any girl's name. -Anonymous

His situation reminded me of one of my own, so I thought others might benefit from my past mistakes in dealing with this particular type of female, who I have dubbed the fast talking Manipulator. She is a dangerous adversary. So let us waste no time.

First, the process of separation. No one should break up over the phone. It's cowardly. Meet for coffee. Be blunt, not mean. "I'm sorry. You're a wonderful woman, but this isn't working."

Don't leave it open for discussion and don't drag on. Breaking up should not take longer than five minutes. Simple right? Wrong. Understand that men are inherently stupid, and we have trouble grasping this concept. The longer you hang around, the more she sees her opportunity to use sex as a weapon in her war to capture you. After all of the tears and goodbyes, if you have one last sexual escapade, you've officially ruined all of your hard work. In her teary eyes, you've only strengthened your relationship with a healthy dose of communication and sex.

After the separation is complete, comes the extraction. This sticky phase is where most men slip up. One small kiss, and then hit the door. Don't look back. If she tries to grab you, shake her off. Change your phone number. She will try to work her way back in for a few months, but you must not bend. Drunken dialing and text messaging are out of the question!

Finally, the most important point. The Manipulator is cunning. Never break up with her unless it's her time of the month. Then make sure that you never sleep with her again. Maybe this method sounds terrible, but I assure you that pregnancy—real or pretend—is her final and most devastating weapon. Many lives, hers included, have been ruined by foolish men who underestimated the Manipulator's desperation. Follow these simple rules, and you may just set yourself free. Follow them not, and I'll buy your first round of diapers.


N.L. Belardes - “Fast Talker Blues”

Recently I was at Bakersfield’s Marketplace. It’s the hub for cool dates, cool ice cream, and stadium-seating theatres. I munched on a strawberry shortcake sweet cream blend from Cold stone while I watched a couple sit at the next table. The guy wore a mild smirk of concern, a what-am-I-doing stare that thinly hid boredom. His date leaned in. He leaned away. She wore a halter top. Her breasts oozed onto the table. He kept looking while she kept talking. Neither he or I were listening to her.

Fast talkers.

They’re like salespeople standing at your door, their toe strategically stepped forward so you can’t slam wood in their face. You never really wanted a relationship with them. It was all about the sex. You played the game. She played the chatty spider. Maybe you loved her at one time. About two seconds before climax sounds right. This guy at the marketplace? He was thinking about a home run smacked right between the two-breast stadium in front of him.

I slurped on my ice cream, giggling.

This guy needs out. Sure. He wants to break up. Great. He’s focused on sex. Wasn’t a problem until he spun himself into her web. Something happened. I know what happened. She talked him into a near coma and he suddenly woke up.

Now he wants out.

He can’t get a word in edgewise and her fast-talking stories meant to corral him only makes him want to run to his Honda and leave her and her oozing breasts looking for a new popcorn thrill ride.

And don’t get me wrong. The roles can be completely reversed. You’ve seen the guy. He’s got hoops in his ears and he’s looking to cling onto you ladies like cling wrap on a smiley faced cookie—you’re caught in a permanent fake laugh because that’s the only face you can show him. He thinks he’s being the pleaser. He asks you to marry him after one phone call. You just want him to buy you a new Coach purse, then you’re out.

If you can get out.

My first bit of advice? Use technology to your advantage. You’re never going to corner her or him with your slow speech. They’re too fast. Her voice runs quicker than two unsexed Jedi after Darth Maul’s hot twin sister. His cheap talk would make it easier to arm wrestle a cobra.

Try sending a text message or an instant message. Be blunt. “I M BRKNG up with U. Dn’t cll me agn, EVR”. If you get a long ramble, just close the chat box and go have a beer. No sense in hanging around. She’ll be there when you get back anyways. He’ll be calling you.

Whether the fast talker is male or female you’ll be getting a steady stream of novel length emails detailing their life history and why their grandmother never really loved them and how you were supposed to be the answer to it all. Of course that will be mixed into some diatribe about coffee houses, car parts, purses, dog tricks, favorite music, devastating relationships, and everything you ever wanted to know about yourself.

Plug your ears.

Do not answer any of the emails.

If you’re stalked you will be required to have a face-to-face meeting.

I recommend downplaying yourself.

Be direct. You be the talker for once, though you don’t have to be fast with the hip break-up phrases. Beat yourself up. They won’t know what hit them. Next thing you know, they’ll be patting you on the back and walking away feeling victorious.

After all, an empty-handed victory is still a victory.

Get their attention and then let the self-deprecation commence:

“I have to say this. Let me talk or I’ll just walk away.” They’ll immediately shut up and pout themselves into their Jamba Juice cup. “I’m really sorry. I’m mad at myself. I’ve been really bad at choosing relationship partners. I’m a poor judge of character and a slow learner. I’ve realized I just can’t choose. I have a history of making poor choices and realize that I can’t even match socks. I’m torn up about it and I can’t keep up. I’m just a slow mover. I’m sorry. I have to do this so I can grow… it’s only fair.”

From that point on, ignore the fast talker at all costs. Just get a beer, delete the fifteen-minute voice mails and get on with your life.

Besides, as they tell their newfound love all about how long your wanker is they’ll have already started the process again.

Poor bastards.

Two Straight Men is a regular column on Paperback Writer about two straight guys comedic views on whatever the hell they want to talk about. Christopher Allen Poe is a writer/musician from Sacramento, Ca. Visit his website at christopherallenpoe.com. He welcomes any questions or comments. N.L. Belardes is a novelist and blogger out of Bakersfield, California. He’s on myspace.com/nlbelardes and www.nlbelardes.com.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Tuesday, September 19, 2006. You can leave your response.