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Some people are better at breaking people's hearts than others. Kim Kardashian comes to mind; she of 72 days. Or Britney Spears; she of 55 hours. But even people still stuck in dating mode sometimes do a piss-poor job of ending things. The best approach is to just tell the other person.
If you live in New York City, Zagat's has come up with a list of the best places to break the news.
"BierHaus: One cardinal rule for restaurant/bar break-ups is to choose a place where you will never return in case things get ugly (and they will). Luckily, one evening at this Bavarian-style hall is enough to last twelve lifetimes (even sans a runny-nosed dining partner). It’s so loud that no one around you will be able to hear you say things like, “It’s not you; it’s me,” and “You have horrible taste in pants.” Live polka music versions of classics like Total Eclipse of the Heart mean there’s no danger you’ll be staying a second longer than necessary. Plus you can order your beer in a two liter boot, and no one can get that mad at someone drinking out of a plastic shoe.
"Go here: If you don’t care whether your ex never speaks to you again (712 Third Ave.; 212-867-2337).
"California Pizza Kitchen: This immense chainlet is as un-New York as you can get, which is good if you want to avoid memories of your first kiss on the Highline, first Valentine’s Day at One If By Land, Two if by Sea and first fight at Gristedes. Other pluses include well-spaced out tables that will prevent strangers from silently judging, teenaged servers who will be too terrified by the ugly crying to ask whether you need another apple martini and bright lighting that will ensure you don’t rethink your decision.
"Go here: If you’re afraid you might wimp out and need the soundtrack of shrieking children to strengthen your resolve. And if you love a good BBQ chicken pie (440 Park Avenue South; 212-685-6700).
"Jekyll & Hyde: Unless up till this point your relationship has existed in Second Life only, odds are the second you propose this place, your soon-to-be ex is going to know something is up. But if you’re expecting over-the-top hysterics, dining among animatronics and freaky servers who say creepy things might be your safest bet. Good luck to you.
"Go here: If you foresee danger and want to make absolutely certain you won’t know a single person inside (1409 Avenue of the Americas; 212-541-9505).
"Beauty and Essex: Though this trendy LES hotspot might seem a curious choice – it’s filled with people who aren’t miserable, its menu is geared toward sharing and it’s not exactly wallet-friendly – it still has a lot going for it: the dark lighting means potential break downs won’t be on full display, you can soften a difficult conversation with a variety of delicious cocktails and the civilized environs may keep things, well, civilized. Plus, the ladies room has free champagne, which is good whether you’re the dumper or dumpee.
"Go here: If you’re a multitasker and want to meet someone new the same night (146 Essex St.; 212-614-0146).
"Tortilla Flats: Avoiding romantic places is another break-up rule. Enter this Village cantina with its kitschy interior, bachelorette parties galore (caution: this is bad idea when breaking up with a fiancé) and premade vat of margaritas. Sensitive choice it isn’t, but between the hula hoop contests, sauced clientele and chimichangas, there’s no way a serious conversation can survive.
"Go here: If you have a mortal fear of other people’s tears or if you can really rock a hula hoop after emotional distress (767 Washington St.; 212-243-1053).
"Balthazar: When your emotions are running more red-hot than blue and you want to break up in spectacular fashion, head to this always-crowded SoHo brasserie where throwing a martini in your ex’s face and storming out is guaranteed an audience. For maximum embarrassment, stage your performance before the check comes so your ex has to stay there and pay the bill.
"Go here: If you are mad and want revenge, Sex and the City-style (80 Spring St.; 212-965-1785).
"Starbucks: For a simple, no-frills solution, we suggest firing up your laptop, ordering your favorite coffee drink and sending an email. No muss, no fuss.
"Go here: If you met online and have been on less than seven dates. Or, you are a spineless robot coward. Note to spineless robots, don't think you can plug yourself in and sit at that table all day. People are waiting!"
[Title taken from this.]
Mr. Gaelic sure knows how to rub it in. He's on a business trip to New York City and emailed me a picture he took from his hotel window. It's overlooking Times Square. Dammit all! Why am I not living in New York?
Many years ago at a parish retreat, there was an ice-breaker exercise. Using the entire ballroom as an imaginary map of the United States with one corner being Maine, another Florida, and so on, the priest told us to go stand, without talking to anyone except to question where they were, in the location that we would want to live if money were no object. I made my way up the east coast inquiring of people, "Where are you?"
"Newport, Rhode Island." "The eastern shore of Maryland." "Cape May, New Jersey." I finally placed myself where New York City would be and looked up to see Mr. Gaelic standing close by.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"New York. Where are you?"
"Me too."
Without conferring, we had both ended up at the same place.
If you ever hear me speak of Susan, she's not a real person. She's my height. Or she would be if she had a head. She also has the exact same proportions in the bust, waist, and hips as I do. But she has three legs instead of two. And she's blue.
She's not a Na'vi. Susan is my body double. My dressmakers form. And here's a secret. I can sew. And pretty darn well, too.
The last "simple" skirt I made had 18 pieces, and that's not counting the lining pieces. My favorite cocktail dress is a made-by-me sumptuous brown 100% cotton velvet completely lined and with boning in the waist. And no, I don't sew for others unless I've birthed them or married them. So don't ask.
On my way to Parents' Weekend at Finola's college last month, I made a pit stop in Manhattan. There are certain places in Manhattan that require a pilgrimage. One of those is a shop in the Lower East Side, but it was too far to travel for just one store. They have beautiful fabrics and are right next door to a bialy store. But a critical mass is more than one fabulous store in a two block radius.
How about dozens of fabulous stores in a two block radius? If you ignore the gentlemen's clubs and topless bars, my pilgrimage stores dot the side streets just south of Times Square off Seventh Avenue. So Rudy cleaned up Times Square. It just means that the seedier side moved a few blocks away from where the tourists are. Back at the fabric stores, I was like a kid in a candy store.
And when in the Garment District, 'tis best to dress in black, and funky shoes if possible. I didn't mention my pit stop to a friend I ran into getting coffee before getting on the road. 'Tis best to leave an air of mystery and then show up a few weeks (or months depending on how fast my project goes) wearing expensive looking togs that were handmade for more than half the cost of ready-to-wear.
And shhh . . . keep this under your hat. I don't want Dierdre to know that I shop at Mood, where the Project Runway contestants shop. She'll want a weekend shopping trip.
As Queen Elizabeth II said several years ago, this has been an annus horribilis. My friend's mother passed away in New York over the weekend. I'm heading up for a few days. My laptop is staying home. No new blogs will be posted for the next week.
Baruch dayan emet (Blessed is the one true Judge). Into your hands, O Lord, we commend our brother (sister). Allaahumma ighfir lihaayina wa mayitina wa shaahidina wa ghaa’ibina wa sagheerina wa kabeerina wa dhakarina wa unthaana (O Allah, forgive our living and our dead, those who are present among us and those who are absent, our young and our old, our males and our females). Give rest, O Christ, to thy servant(s) with thy saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.
Those words, which should give comfort, have been spoken by me and too many of my friends recently. Within the last twelve months, we have lost a wife, a father, a mother, an actress, and are now close to losing another mother. In the last two years, I have sat Shiva with both a young mother of three six-year-old-and-under daughters and an older daughter who had an astonishing tale to tell about her extraordinary mother. I took food to homes and our fellowship hall for parishioners’ families’ meals and receptions.
Just yesterday a neighborhood friend walked up with her dog and my god-dog. I was surprised to see her with my dear friend’s dog. She informed me that the reason was that my friend and her family had gone to New York to see my friend’s mother who might not be with us as I type these words. It’s ironic how two Upper East Side transplants from across the Atlantic were/are both in hospital in New York and one is mourned by the world while the other will be mourned by only those who knew and loved her personally.
I will take food again and sit Shiva again and shed tears not only for my friend and her mother but for my neighbor and her mother and for me and my father. I will help her understand the pain and the labor that grieving requires of us. And I will be thankful that she has a strong synagogue community to support her.
My own thank you notes sit unwritten in a box from the funeral home which the funeral director topped with a picture of my father. Another friend told me that the thank you notes are the finality of death. Writing them is to acknowledge that your loved one is gone. I’m not to that point yet. I’m in limbo – that dreadfully depressing time after the casseroles stop coming, when everyone expects you to be “back to normal”.
There is no more normal for some of us. We are now widows and widowers, motherless daughters and adult orphans. We have been left alone by the world because we aren’t always up and happy. People don’t like to be reminded that there is sadness and grief and anger and any other emotion than happiness. Depending on your religious beliefs, our dearly departed are in a better place, free from pain, rejoicing in the Everlasting Light. But those of us left behind need nurturing and caring and checking in on.
Next time you ask us, “How are you,” look us in the eye and mean it. Ask it with conviction and a real desire to know how we’re doing. And don’t let time and society dictate when we’re supposed to be fine. Sit with us for a week. Pray for us for four months. And check up on us on holidays and birthdays and anniversaries. And slowly, hopefully, we’ll be able to answer you back is an honest “I’m okay.”
Kid questionnaire.Ask your child(ren) to answer the questions and type their answers in.Tag other folks with older kids who might have fun with this. :)( just type what the kids said...)1. What is something Mommy always says to you?* Clean your room.2. What makes Mommy happy?* When we help around the house.3. What makes Mommy sad?* When a pet dies.4. How does your Mommy make you laugh?* Tickle me.5. What was your Mommy like as a child?* How am I supposed to know?6. How old is your Mommy?* 43.7. How tall is your Mommy?* 6 feet, 3 inches.8. What is her favorite thing to do?* Relax.9. What does your Mommy do when you're not around?* Run errands and clean the house and cook.10. If your Mommy becomes famous, what will it be for?* Cooking.11. What is your Mommy really good at?* Being a mom.12. What is your Mommy not very good at?* Juggling.13. What does your Mommy do for her job?* Be a mom and sometimes teach ballet.14. What is your Mommy's favorite food?* Spaghetti.15. What makes you proud of your Mommy?* She keeps the whole entire house in check.16. If your Mommy were a cartoon character, who would she be?* Kyo’s mother from Alice 19.17. What do you and your Mommy do together?* Watch movies.18. How are you and your Mommy the same?* We both love to cook.19. How are you and your Mommy different?* Her eyes and partly her hair.20. How do you know your Mommy loves you?* She says it.21. Where is your Mom's favorite place to go?* The spa.I asked my youngest. She got a lot of them right and some of them wrong. Hmm, which ones are wrong?[Editor's note: The poll is still open. One person suggested New York City and even offered the use of her mother's Upper East Side apartment while the mother is out of pocket.]
