The Crappy Relationship Club -who's the leader of the club that's made for you and you?

If you're still reading, chances are you agree you're a member of the I'm-in-a-crappy-relationship club and all that goes along with it including the monogrammed beret, decoder ring and acknowledging that you're short on self esteem.

But admitting you're a club member and agreeing to participate in club activities, ie getting out of a crappy relationship, are two waaaaay different things. Before settling in with your tray of milk and cookies to comfortably watch from the sidelines, I want you to know that note you brought from your mother ain't going to fly in Laurie's Club. That sound you're hearing is paper tearing and you ripping your bum up off the bench.

For all the excuses you're about to come up with as to why you can't get out of your crappy relationship, save them, because I'm ahead of you:

Excuse #1: Taking the "Boo!" out of "Boohoo"

I can't get out my crappy relationship because.I'm scared

Why is it so hard to get out of an unsatisfying relationship? Feelings of love aside: no one likes to be alone or fail. So even when we "know ", when our guts are screaming "you deserve better", when we'd tell a girlfriend to run, not walk, to the nearest exit, we stay. We stay and get frustrated and sad and suffer. We compile lists of grievances and parade them out for all to tsk, tsk over. But pretty soon we get scared about rejection. We make excuses for poor behavior. We conveniently forget disrespectful actions. We stay.

Front-page headline reads: "Woman in crap relationship won't leave!"

What a loser, you think, but then you realize that woman is you-oops. Once you've had your come-to-Jesus meeting, why is it so hard to leave? Why can't you just bust a move and be done with it?

Two reasons:

1. Loss (boohoo). Remember when you were two and you were under the delusion that everything was, "Mine!" Well, guess what? You're facing the adult equivalent of binky-fell-down-the-grate-wah! Said binky was stinky and dirty but it had been through everything with you and now it's gone. At two, you already knew love stinks.
2. Fear (boo!) . Underlying loss is fear, pure terror at the thought of being binkyless and alone-stroller rides will never be the same. In your tiny, fear-filled mind the only answer to the misery is A) get (stinky) binky back or B) get another binky ASAP! But old binky has been washed out to sea by now (and besides it stunk, remember?) and shiny, new binky is well, shiny and new and nothing like stinky binky. There's nothing to do but cry (and, of course, wet your pants).

While loss and fear may feel inextricably linked, truth is they are separate. Loss is a real experience you need to deal with and mourn. If you're ending or ended a relationship, this is something that's actually happened. You need to emotionally process it.

Fear is the opposite of reality. It's a fabricated concern about what may happen. It's make believe, a "what if" projection into the future, perhaps based on past experience but a projection nonetheless. Some fear is good, like the kind that keeps you from jumping off the Golden Gate, but the fear I'm talking about here serves little purpose except to keep the present moment, the now of life, far away.

Fear and loss. Loss and fear. Big, bad stuff, yes, but must it be so big and so bad it dictates your behavior to the point of self destruction, ie staying in a crappy relationship? If you bought this book your answer would be, "yes" but if you're reading this book the follow-up answer is, "not necessarily".

And, now for the entertainment portion of the chapter. In a creepy but human way, it helps to hear about other people's pathetic-ness because it makes you feel less alone when down in the trenches. Should you be feeling alone and hopeless in the face of boo! (fear) and boohoo (loss), here is a brief description of the private mental twirlsies I used to put myself through at the terror of being alone.forever:

The nightmare always begins with a flash forward of say twenty or thirty some odd years. I'm the size of a double-wide, La-z-Boy dressed in a zip-up-the-front nubby, pink house coat (no belt because I have no waist). I wear once-fuzzy-now-mashed-down slippers that look like dyed, dead cats. The toe boxes are cut open because at the time it seemed like a good idea.

On the stove is a three or five or seventeen-day-old crusty pot of oatmeal, the same crusty oats adhered to the front of La-Z-Pink as I am affectionately known to myself. When I'm not aimlessly shuffling around the 8' x 10' trailer I live in, I watch a 24/7 feed of Days of Our Lives on a 15-inch black and white. There I sit, on a nut (that's "brown" in J Crew) pleather sofa (with permanent dip from my thunder-down-under) gumming my mash and waiting for the day Prince Charming will rescue me from my pitiful existence.

Maybe the details of your freak-out aren't exactly the same, but I bet there are similarities: projection into the future perhaps, exaggeration, overriding negativity, worst-case scenario-ing to name a few. Why do this? What does it serve to scare the bejesus out of ourselves? I don't ask a question I can't answer so drum roll please.

Giving in to fear and allowing the mind to run wild serves as a distraction. It takes us out of the present. We don't have to take responsibility for and deal with the hairball on the plate in front of us, ie getting out of a crappy relationship. And we get to muck up what may otherwise be a perfectly good moment because things are not exactly how we envisioned them.

Amazingly, all of this leads us back to binky, pants wetting and the two-year-old within. As adults we have choice and responsibility-this is what separates up from those who throw things, spit up and poop willy nilly without consequence. In exchange for rising to the difficult challenge of being a responsible adult we get goodies like travel, learning, marriage, spending power, sex and procreation. Be responsible, get goodies-it's a fair deal although many people do not hold up their end of the bargain.

When we shirk choice and responsibility, and, indulging fear is a passive form of this, we are not being adults. We are, instead, old babies in big bodies. So, while being afraid is scary and intimidating and paralyzing at times, it's important to recognize it for what it is: a block that holds us back from dealing with what's important.

Excuse #2: Thinking Outside the Crotch

I can't get out my crappy relationship because.the sex is good

Ah, sex! Lovely sex. We heart sex. Like GE soft light, sex makes everything that much lovelier than it really is. This is great when things are slightly rocky but downright delusional when you're being treated like crap. I repeat: good sex does not make up for being treated like crap. In fact, there's nothing more emotionally confusing than feeling connected in the bedroom and getting dumped on in the living room.

It's a real mind bend for women when sex is good but everything else is not because women equate sexual intimacy with all around intimacy. Silly women! A guy is biologically equipped to get his rocks off in almost any situation, at any time of day, no matter what's going on around him. He has the need to seed (while women have the urge to merge; need to seed ? urge to merge). The guy's process goes something like this: "Oh, I'm so busy. Need to prepare for a presentation. Got to close that deal. Sex? Where?!" This is why your guy can treat you poorly and have good sex with you-the two are, in some cases, unrelated, but I would wager the more poorly your mate treats you the weirder the sex becomes.

I remember visiting this guy I was madly in something with. We were at the point in the relationship where things either deepen and grow or stagnate and grow mold and rot. The minute I got off the plane I could sense the change. Picking me up forty-five minutes late (for no reason) and looking less than excited to see me should have clued me in, but I so did not want to believe it was over. In place of reality I created an alternate universe complete with Earth, Wind & Fire soundtrack and aromatherapy waterfalls. When we got back to his place we had a different sort of sex than we'd been having. He was actually kind of aggressive and, while it surprised me, I was so ass-deep in fear and denial I told myself it was p-p-passion. The Passion of the Cr.appy Relationship!

Well, it wasn't passion. As my gut suspected it was aggression that only heightened as the lovely weekend visit wore on and on and on. Weeks later, when the whole thing imploded I kept thinking about all the great "passion" we'd "shared" glossing over the aggression because I wasn't ready to let go of the fantasy. I wasn't ready to think outside the crotch.

When you're having sex with the right person it's a bond-a-licious way to strengthen a relationship. When you're having sex with an abusive lout it's a great way to screw yourself. Either way you're getting something, but is it what you want?

Excuse #3: You Make me Feel Like Dancin'

I can't get out my crappy relationship because. I'm used to it

I love to dance. I love it, I love it, I love it! Love to shake my groove thing, "shake my groove thing , yeah, yeah. Show 'em how we do it now. Let's show the world we can dance. Bad enough to strut our stuff. The music gives us a chance. We do more out on the floor."

But that's not what I'm talking about here.

The dancing I'm talking about is a dynamic that develops over time between two people throughout the course of a relationship. Sometimes, it's a cute routine two people bond over like baby talk or pet names (ech! no judgment.). Or maybe it's a habitual, knee-jerk sort of thing like you ask him how his day was and he says, "come to daddy". This is all benign stuff that serves to make the relational bond.special.

But that's not what I'm talking about either.

I'm talking about a more insidious type of dancing-an often times passive aggressive pas de deux where no one ever really comes out and says what they mean; a type of pseudo discussion that quickly escalates out of control; an interaction where two people, caught like hamsters on a wheel, do the same destructive thing over and over and over, to each other.

It's a dance because both people participate, it's repetitive and it never occurs to either party to say, I think I'll sit this one out, ie I'm not going to play my role in this hideous mess anymore. No, I'm going to be the adult who takes off the glitter and spandex and steps out of this whole goddamn spectacle.

The reason neither person can step out is because they can't yet see their part in it, what they're really dancing around. They are not yet clear on their issues, why this person pushes their buttons, so they keep dancing hoping to resolve what's inside by attacking something outside.

The point, so far, is that all crappy relationships require two to tango. Once you're able to complain about what's going on, you're able to stop it by stepping away. If you don't step out, you are choosing to participate. Even a so-called victim, once aware of the dynamic, is choosing victimhood. L

Say a man is verbally or even physically abusive and the relationship ends for the fifth time. Yay, ticker tape parade. But, oops, the woman forgot to change her number, email, address, genetic makeup and Prince Harming comes a' callin' again. Big surprise, Sad Sack Sally takes him back thereby choosing victimhood. Why?!

Because Dickless Wonder loves her? Perhaps in his own sick way, but no. Because everyone deserves a sixth chance? Uh, no. Because she doesn't think much of herself and is grateful for any crumb of attention she can find? Ding, ding, doing-bring out the dancing ponies!

Women dance, in the worst sense of the word, and accept subpar treatment when they don't think they deserve better. If this is you, keep reading Sister, 'cause I gots lots of things to say to you and your groove thing.

Tune in next week for Part 4: The Five People you Meet in (your own little hell) on Earth