What Love Is Page #8

any real friend

if I didn't call you on

that nice-girl bullshit you sell

to every guy

you go out with.

What's that supposed to mean?

You know exactly what.

It means, when you

first start seeing a guy,

do you tell him about

the 8000 blowj*bs you've given,

or do you try

to sell him on the fact

that you've only slept

with three guys?

That's what I thought. So don't

try selling it to me either,

because then you're not being

a very good friend to me.

You want

a real relationship?

Fine. Be honest.

If the man can't handle

the truth about who you are,

he can just go f*** himself.

You can't handle the truth!

Remember that?

With the guy

from the Lakers game?

Rachel, since when

are you anyone

to tell anybody

about relationships?

Since I'm the one woman

in this room

who sees things

the way they are

instead of seeing them

the way we want 'em to be.

Laura, you have stuffed animals

on your bed, bunny magnets

and ceramic my secret garden

crap all around your house.

Tell me you have

a firm grip on reality.

Relationships end, ladies,

and they all end badly.

Otherwise,

they wouldn't end.

And the only "always" is,

is that they always end badly.

So you'd better change

your perspective.

I'm sorry. I don't choose

to see it that way.

Exactly.

That's exactly my point.

But the reality is, they do.

Think about it.

The best-case scenario

in a relationship

is that one of you dies.

And that's the best

it ever gets.

Is that a f***ing design flaw

or what?

You meet the love of your life.

You're together 50, 60 years.

Then one of you dies, leaving

the other heartbroken and alone.

Alone to live out

the last few geriatric years

of your miserable life,

trying not to die from pain,

and your only solace

is bingo and applesauce.

You go, girl.

And down from that,

getting dumped.

Which I used to think

was worse than dumping.

Because you feel so out

of control, ugly, worthless,

unworthy, self-conscious

and just f***ing lame.

I mean, Jesus.

I used to think

getting dumped

was worse

than dumping someone else,

until finally

I dumped someone myself.

And let me tell you something,

ladies.

It is way, way, way, way worse

than getting dumped yourself,

because now you have to deal

with the fact

that it is your idea.

And it was your action,

so you're constantly

second-guessing yourself.

"Did I do the right thing?

Is he the best I'm gonna find?

"Am I gonna be alone

for the rest of my life

"because I threw away

the best f***ing thing

that's ever gonna happen

to me?"

Oh, and that comes before you

have to try to turn that person

into someone you could hate,

so you could try to find a way

to live with that decision.

Oh, no.

I think it's pretty clear.

I would rather get dumped

than dump someone else.

But then, I really don't ever

have to worry about that again.

Ladies.

Can I have a bushmills,

straight? Yeah, you got it.

Uh, hi. Uh, my name is tom,

and this is my place.

And the thing is

that I'm going through a lot

of unexpected things,

and I really, really would...

tom, don't worry about it.

We're gonna have one drink,

and then we'll go.

I kinda got the picture

when we walked in the door.

Oh, you did.

Well, I'm sorry... you did?

I don't mean

to make you feel uncomfortable,

but, uh, what kind of picture

is that, exactly?

That your girlfriend

broke up with you

and she's on her way here

right now

to pick up those suitcases

by the door.

You got all that

from walking in here?

No, I got that from the letter

I found on the table.

We were all reading it

in the bathroom.

Tom, it is absolutely horrible.

Oh, my god.

Are you kidding me?

What just got into her?

No one yet, that's the problem.

Relax, Rachel's fine.

Fine, sure. F***ed up, insecure

and emotional. Sure, she's fine.

Do you know how hard it is

to do what she does?

Yes, scheduling

can be a problem.

No, Laura, Rachel tells men

where they stand.

Behind her

while she's bent over.

No, Rachel tells men

the truth.

Not what they wanna hear

but the actual truth.

That's admirable,

considering that, as women,

we're conditioned to lie.

What are you talking about?

Yeah, I got to hear this.

You know how a man, if he

has sex with a hundred women,

he's a stud?

But if a woman sleeps

with 10 guys, she's a whore.

So how the hell does a woman

not feel she has to lie

with that ridiculous

double standard?

That's not lying, that's just

not giving all the information.

No, that's justification.

If men weren't so infantile

about confronting their women's

history, we wouldn't lie.

Know how easy my relationship

would've been

if I didn't have to deal with

"did you f*** him?" Questions?

Amen.

"Did you f*** him?

Did you f*** him?"

"Who was that guy?

Did you f*** him?"

"Who you on the phone with?

Huh? Who?"

"Why's there a guy's voice

on your machine? You f*** him?"

The younger the guy is,

the worse it is. Or latino.

Heaven forbid they meet anyone

you have been with.

And then it's sulking for days.

Or attitude.

Then they never stop

bringing the sh*t up.

"Why don't you f*** so-and-so?"

That's when you're dealing

with their insecurities

about other men.

Don't even get me started

on the bedroom.

Do you know how patient

I have to be

with these oversized babies?

Like my mother always says,

"I already got two children,

I don't need a third. "

You admit that lying is part and

parcel to your relationships?

Deb, is it lying to tell a child

that there is a Santa Claus

if it makes him feel better?

Is it lying not to tell a man

about f***ing the raiders

if it makes him feel better

about marrying you?

Know what, fine.

As far as I can see,

we don't have any choice.

If I have to choose between

not telling a man every detail

about my life

so that things can go smoothly

or being completely honest and

staying up all night fighting,

there really ain't no choice,

you know?

I do. And, Amy, you're right.

Men can't handle the truth.

And the sooner we learn that,

the smoother things will be.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry, I can't believe

things have gotten that bad,

that relationships have turned

into one big coping contest

that we're trying to endure

like Chinese water torture.

See, sweetie, that's why

I only date married men.

'Cause I know

they're unavailable,

and there's a limit

to the torture.

Oh, that is so wrong

on so many levels,

I don't even know

what to say.

Wait, you went out with Sal.

He was never married.

Uh, yeah, I know that now,

but I didn't know that then.

The man used to wear

a wedding ring.

He later told me that he wore it

to attract women.

Why, did it?

Well, hell, it attracted me.

Oh, my god, Katherine. Why?

Because, Deb, I figure

if a man is married,

there's gotta be

something good about him.

I mean, at least he can commit.

But then you make him cheat.

The commitment

goes out the window.

But by that time, I'm over him.

Don't you understand what

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