ROUND ONE: STONE vs. PHONE

K's Story: Exposed.

I lived with a stone carver 25 years my senior. We lived in the woods in a house without plumbing or electricity. After two years, I realized that I couldn't stay with him any longer. I needed more, like hot water and a flush toilet.

One day, shortly before we finally split, he was in need of a photo reference for a carving. We were in the midst of a heated debate about our future, but without hesitation, I posed in the complicated manner required for his work.

No big deal.

About a month after we stopped speaking to each other, I received a package from the public library. I opened it to find nude photos of myself, the ones taken for his reference, along with a letter from a librarian telling me they were found inside a book.

I'm not sure which one.

The humiliating part of it, aside from the fact that the library staff identified me from the photos, and I do not know how many people were part of this process, is that there was nothing provocative about them. They were taken for purely technical reasons, and as such, were awkward and unflattering.

That hurt.


V's Story: Before I smartened up, the last asshole came on the heels of a prolonged, very happily-single period of my life. What can I say - he was hot, had great tattoos, and wrote earnest typewritten love letters. He also had a bit of a homeless criminal past (edgy!), a father who had cut off his own genitals (understands my weird family!), and ambitions that ended at social assistance and a basement apartment for him and his pitbull. But, he seemed smitten, and I was going with it. Despite his joblessness, he didn't expect me to pay for him - he was happy to watch me drink all night then stand at the table downing the 2 inches of beer I'd left in my mug at the end of the night. A few months in, he relented and got a part-time job as a cook at a local pub. One night while I hung out during his shift, he had his friends rob my apartment, stealing my beloved guitars, recording equipment, and my roommate's laptop.

Of course I didn't find out it was him until later. The robbery left my roommate and I shaken. And she was going on a trip the very next day. I was scared to be alone, but he promised to stay with me. But when I called, he said he couldn't come over after all - he had forgotten about "plans" to get stoned with a friend. Wha? I'm baffled and tearful. Later, he called from the friend's place. A change of heart? No, but he really wanted me to hear the friend's really cool new computer program that generated a voice to read aloud the stuff you typed. A robot voice proceeded to read me a long letter explaining to me that he had decided to get back together with his ex-girlfriend, but that I am a "great girl" and will find love. At the end of it, I quietly hung up the phone. Hobo punk robbed and computer-dumped me. The End.


Prof. Drew LeDrew says: Let's face it, any good break-up story requires three things: 1) homeless criminals; 2) mutilated genitals; and 3) a long kiss-off letter voiced by a robot. Three things that really slow a good dis down? 1) libraries; 2) geezers; 3) unflattering nude photos. All of which makes this particular match no contest.

In this corner we have "Exposed," the story of a woman (we're surmising) who lived two years in the woods with "a stone carver 25 years my senior." She needed more --- "like hot water and a flush toilet." (Candy Bushnell, this is your fault.) In the midst of their break-up, geezer asks her to pose "in the complicated manner required for his work." (Is it just us, or is she not over him yet?) So she does, "without hesitation." (Hello?) Wouldn't you know, about a month later the photos turn up tucked into a book at the local library; the library staff is able to ID her and sends along the "awkward and unflattering" images. Setting aside the fact that the folks at the library staff knew her face (we're surmising) well enough to finger her (hello?), all we have here is that a librarian or two got to see some artsy, un-airbrushed photos of a dedicated library patron. Oy. Haven't these people heard of a little thing called an internet? That these pics didn't end up on any one of our favorite porn sites is a small miracle, and one we should all be rather relieved about.

And in this corner we have a lady we'll call "Hobo punk'd," who relates the tale of a "hot" gentleman with "great tattoos," who, in addition to writing wonderful, typewritten love letters, also came with a bit of baggage, namely, "a homeless criminal past, a father who had cut off his own genitals, and ambitions that ended at social assistance and a basement apartment for him and his pitbull." Beautiful. The gentleman, initially content to suck the backwash from our heroine's beers, eventually gets a job of his very own, as a cook at a local pub. One night, the fair maiden hangs out with him during his shift, and -- hey, what a coincidence -- her apartment is robbed the very same night. Fearful of being alone, she calls him; he relents, having "forgotten about 'plans' to get stoned with a friend." But before the call ends -- well, we'll let her tell it:

He really wanted me to hear the friend's really cool new computer program that generated a voice to read aloud the stuff you typed. A robot voice proceeded to read me a long letter explaining to me that he had decided to get back together with his ex-girlfriend, but that I am a "great girl" and will find love. At the end of it, I quietly hung up the phone. Hobo punk robbed and computer-dumped me.

Now, the robo-letter is pure genius -- we've always believed there is nothing like a dehumanized voice to communicate deep-seated emotional truths (just ask the wife) -- but we feel for this "great girl." She had us at "cut off his own genitals."

WINNER: "Hobo punk'd" in. a. land. slide.

Prof. Drew LeDrew helps maintain the weblog Chemistry Class. A former girlfriend dumped the good professor after she fell in love with the French Culinary Institute. Most of LeDrew's friends, including his roommate, got some good meals out of it.