When parting's not so sweet

I’ve had enough romantic breakups to know that they’re never really easy or all that kind, even if at some point you can get past things and become “friends.”

But a few breakups have happened lately in such an unsettling way — and I don’t mean Britney’s famous text message to her then-hubby, K-Fed — that I’m wondering if we’re on to a new trend.

The “I’m Going to Spend a Weekend Romancing You and Then I’m Going to Dump You” breakup.

It happened first to Jennifer. She met Carl, a fortysomething dad who lives in Healdsburg. A few of us headed up to Wine Country for a day of wine-tasting, and there he was — all dimples and smiles and crystal blue eyes that clearly were focused on Jennifer and Jennifer only.

We all chatted until it was time to head back on the highway, and he gave her his e-mail address. “Write me,” he told her.

She didn’t waste too much time before e-mailing him, and they had a few flirty exchanges and phone calls before she invited him to spend the weekend.

It was even more romantic than she had hoped — they had so much in common — and she started to get gushy. “I think I could fall in love with him,” she told me, all starry-eyed.

“You barely know him,” I counseled her, like the mom that I am. “Take it slowly, so you don’t confuse lust with love.”

When she had to call on a client not too far from Healdsburg, she told him she’s be in his ’hood, and he asked her to spend the weekend with him. It was just as magical as the first time.

Until it was time for her to leave.

Carl suddenly got quiet.

“What’s up?” Jennifer asked, as her glowy mood changed to one of confusion.

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this but, I don’t think we’re right for each other,” Carl said.

“When did you feel like that?” Jennifer said, holding back the tears.

“I’ve felt like that for a while now.”

“But you still invited me to come here?”

Carl was silent. Jennifer left, hurt and questioning how someone could ask a woman to spend the weekend with him when he knew he wasn’t into her. Well, unless it was just about the sex.

Anna had a similar experience, but she and John had been seeing each other for a few months. He took his profile off the online dating site; she did, too. He was the one calling her, just to chat and to make plans to see each other.

Here is a good man, Anna told us — kind, courteous, interesting, smart, sexy as could be and honest.
So she was stunned and hurt when he called her Monday from a Phoenix business trip — after a wonderful weekend together during which he cooked her a fabulous meal and they never left his bed for very long — to tell her that he was breaking it off.

“But why?” she asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it for the last week, and I don’t think we’re a good match.”

“The last week? Then what was this weekend about?”

Anna was fuming. She felt so betrayed. And rightfully so.

She and Jennifer saw their weekends as an indication that things were deepening in their relationships, while the men were either getting in one last booty call before dumping them or were trying to sort out their feelings.

I’ve always thought that there isn’t a good way to breakup, but I suppose there can be a better way — certainly better than being hurtful, deceptive or downright cruel.

One friend told me that when he and a former lover split, they approached it this way: they realized they didn’t have the same ideas of what their future looked like, and even though they weren’t heading in the same direction, that did not negate the genuine love and friendship that they had together. That’s not to say that it still wasn’t a painful breakup — it was — just that it’s easier to absorb when you acknowledge the truth. Sometimes we try so hard to make a relationship be what we want it to be, that we’re not really seeing it for what it is.

I can’t say that’s what happened a few years ago when I spent a weekend with Olivier Martinez — well, it wasn’t really Olivier, just Jean Claude, a look-alike French businessman in town for the week — but we definitely had different expectations.

We met at the Clift, where Mia, Jennifer and I were enjoying post-theater martinis.

He entered the bar, my pulse raced and my jaw dropped.

“Oh my!” I gushed to them. “I think Olivier Martinez just walked in!”

And then, from across the room ... he smiled at me. I smiled back, and the next thing I knew, he was standing next to me.

Jean Claude and I spent the rest of the night chatting. I was fascinated by his tales of what single life is like in Paris. I was eager to show him my city, so we made plans to get together Friday.

Friday spilled into Saturday, and we had a great time exploring the city, strolling SFMOMA, eating, talking, laughing. He was charming, smart, sweet and just so darn cute. But ... I wasn’t sexually attracted to him, try as I might, and I found myself just going through the motions. I think we was too sweet.

But, hey, he lives in Paris, I live here — it’s just a fling, I thought.

We kept in touch by e-mail, and when he came back to San Francisco a few months later, we met for lunch. But when he suggested we get together that night, I had to tell him the truth — we weren’t clicking sexually, so let’s just be friends.

Basically, I dumped him.

I’m not saying that the men who wooed Anna and Jennifer weren’t sexually attracted to them. I don’t know. But maybe they needed a few days “living” together before they could really figure out what was — or wasn’t — clicking for them.

That’s OK, but I still think there must have been a better way to handle sharing that with Anna and Jennifer.

Way before her romantic weekend fiasco, Jennifer had asked me why I never spend an entire weekend with a man.

As much as I like the idea of a romantic two-day rendezvous, I haven’t had one since Jean Claude. I’m too busy, I convince myself. I’ve got to catch up on all those things that I don’t get to do working full time — bills, housecleaning, yard work, errands — and my mom duties, too.

But perhaps the real reason is something much more subconscious — I just don’t want to get dumped!