Please don't talk about love tonight

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just not that into you."

LOOKING FOR LOVE IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
Self-help books

You know? I'm just not into that saying "He's just not that into you." I have decided it is dead to me. It's overused. It's trite. It's dead.

It was dead when I watched Oprah a few months back and the co-author of "He's Just Not That Into You," commedian Greg Brehrent was on, shouting it at poor, clueless women who were sadly clinging to craptacular relationships. And the audience would shout back at them in unison, with Oprah, "He's Just Not That Into You."

I wanted to shout to Stedman and tell him that about Oprah since, um, she ain't marrying the man so if he's waiting on some wedding bells he better recognize he'll be forever a groomsman, never a groom. But he's with Oprah. He's made for life. He's long since been cool with it.

But I'm sick of these books.

Behrendt has a new book now. It was sent to me at work. It's got a cute title just like the one before and he wrote it with his wife. Entitled "It's Called a Break Up Because It's Broken: The Smart Girl's Breakup Buddy."

Uh huh. Cutesy. First you write the book about getting women to dump their lousey boyfriends then BAM, a book to help them through the break up, co-written by Behrendt's wife Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt. Genius! Sheer genius! I'm sure it'll make a mint. Hooray for the Behrendts. Boo for when people start shouting at each other ...


"Barbie," he said. "It's called a 'breakup' because it's broken. Mmmkay?"

I'm sick of cleverly titled, love self-help books. I dont' want my love life reduced to a clever catchphrase. I don't want to be from frickin' Venus and Mars. I don't want to read anything titled "The Bad Girl's Guide to Jimmy Crack Corn and I don't Care." I don't care. I don't think they help. I don't want to read that "down low" book so I can become eternally suspicious that ever black man I meet is secretly gay. Black men have enough problems. They don't need me going "Danielle Belton: Heterosexual Detective" on their asses. Stop the paranoia people. Stop the presses. Let's not talk about love tonight. Let's not talk about being in love or being into people or not being into people. Can't people just frickin' date or not date and not have a plethora of "Romance for Dummies" books running around mitigating every move of our love lives?

I don't know. Maybe some of us are clueless. Maybe we need a good smack in the old craw with a self-help book. I just know that I'm single and some book isn't going to fix that. The book will cause me to lose about twenty dollars and some change, but it isn't going to make me better looking, thinner or more attractive to the opposite sex. I don't need to be empowered. I don't need a TV make over show. I don't need to be told I'm a "superfox," as the Behrendts book tells me I am. I am not a superfox.

I'm a grown-ass woman.

I guess I want these books to come to me in that matter. I'm not a "girl." I haven't been a "girl" since I was 21. Sure, I'm young, but to me "girl" is synonymous with "young clueless dolt" in these books. Like I said, maybe some of us need to have it spelled out for us. But I don't. I can take the ugly truth. Let's bring it on. Let's write some books about that. Books like ...

"You're Doomed: The Guide to Getting Screwed Over and Recovering"

"Divorce: It's Not Just For Married People Anymore"

"Are You Crazy?: An Easy Guide to Find Out If It Is, After All, Really You Who Is the Cause of All Your Problems"

"It's Called A Marriage Because We're Freakin' Married: A Guide On Explaining the Rules of Matrimony to Your Spouse."

"Mousey Clueless Dolts and Other People You Should Avoid."

And my personal favorite ...

"Don't Read This Cutely Titled Self-Help Book: It Won't Really Help You."

So no matter how rough it is, to me, please don't talk about love tonight. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to worry about it. I don't want to read about it. Give me the nightlife. I'd rather boogie on the disco round.