Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column holding back the bile.And that’s actually the problem: We’ve probably been holding on too much when we should be letting go. Easier said than done, though, we all know that.Today’s column, boys and girls, is about love lost and how living in a small town like Summit Up Land doesn’t make that any easier. We’re compelled to share this with you today after running into the ex having lunch with our successor. It’s bound to happen, since you can’t walk down the street without seeing a dozen people you know, and all the people you do know seem to congregate in the same places. This is how we learned to do our streaking and mooning over in Vail (and those people always seem to be more shocked, which makes it much more satisfying). We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.So, as we stood there starting to sweat, realizing that any appetite we had when we walked in the door went out like bell bottoms and afros (which is to say it would be back with a vengeance), we began to ponder what we’re calling the dilemma of the dumped: Do we say hi? Do we say the nasty things that the tail-and-trident guy on the right shoulder is whispering in our ear? Do we pretend it doesn’t matter at all (we’re still quite enamored, you see)?In the end, we did what got us into this position in the first place. We didn’t say anything at all. Then we went outside to the car to take it out on the radio volume knob and accelerator.We’re trying desperately to come up with a joke in all of this so as not to abuse our readers’ attention and loyalty. But those clichés heard hereabouts (“It’s not your boyfriend/girlfriend, it’s just your turn,” etc.) are just that – we just hope you can chuckle at it, since it’s not you this time.And as we do with most of our experiences in life, if we can’t find any humor in it, there’s probably a lesson, a moral to the fable, if you will. This time around, we’ve been able to muster up two: Not an hour later, we ran into an old acquaintance who is struggling to get by, progressively dogged by a degenerative disease, someone who so longs to be productive and independent and yet is so reliant on friends and families and the vagaries of fate. We walked away from that feeling pretty self-indulgent and shamefully pathetic.The second part, well, all our poker buddies can appreciate: The long run is made up of stretches of highs and lows, and neither is what it is without the other. This is the curse of the human condition – to love deeply is to accept the possibility of heartbreak just as profound.OK, who wants to play some tiddlywinks?***Jan’s pretty ticked off, and with good reason. She e-mailed in this Scum Alert!! Scum Alert!!, and you know, we just get too many of these.Jan says some “lame, late-night-speeding, probably-drunken-driving, piece-of-s– mofo” hit her 2004 Rendezvous when it was parked on the side of Road P on Ptarmigan Tuesday night. “Not only did you rip the bumper (with accompanying grille and fog lights) off the front of the vehicle, you yanked the undercarriage nine inches forward,” she writes. “You caused $3,100 damage to my vehicle, and you were too cowardly to leave your name or take responsibility for your actions.”She adds that she’s out her deductible, and nine-plus hours of unpaid work (not to mention being without a vehicle for five days while it’s fixed) – and there’s the dreaded insurance premium hike.We would dish out some karmic punishment, but we can’t imagine coming up with anything better than Jan: “May you find yourself the only naked woman on a Greek freighter. And may you find yourself actually thinking about someone other than yourself. Your selfish behavior is disappointing, but not surprising. No one takes responsibility for their actions any more, and it saddens me beyond words.”***We’re out .. (actually we’re probably in today) …
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