The breakup process is distinct between genders. Men are lazy and want to finish the task as quickly as possible so they can move on to the next vagina. Women, however, need closure. It takes time to flush the oxytocin from their systems.
I’ll take a pass/fail over a letter or number grade any day. If it’s bad news, I don’t want to hear it. I want to make up my own reasons why I was left at the curb. Give me back my T-shirt and let me believe you’re breaking up with me because all the sex you want to have with me is detracting from your daily obligations and giving you a noticeable limp.
My biggest concern during a breakup: Is she going to cry?
If tears start a-flowing, I’m in deep shit. I’d rather have her swear at me and throw china. If we’re out in public—don’t ever break up with a woman in public, you ass—and her face starts leaking, it’s more embarrassing than eating a banana while shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch. Every man that sees her cry wants to beat my ass and rescue my woman. Every woman that sees her cry instantly places me on the Chris Brown Memorial Entry Forbidden list.
When I’m dumped, I try to spin it into something positive, expected, or insignificant.
“Hey. You’re a nice guy, but I don’t think this is working out.”
“I don’t feel like we’re connecting the way we should be. You know?”
“Oh, definitely. Yep. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Yes. Nothing personal. You’re great.”
“How long have you felt this way?”
“Um, probably about as long as you have.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Don’t you think it’s best to be honest?”
“All right, look, I was hoping things would progress. Oh, well. It happens.”
“OK, whatever. We’re going to be seeing each other out, so I don’t want it to be weird.”
“Totally. It won’t be weird. We should remain friends. You’re a cool chick.”
“So, we’re good then?”
“Of course. Hey, do you want to come over and watch a movie?”
“Or not. There’s this other woman I wanted to date anyway.”
“Oh, nobody you know. So, it’s cool now. You won’t feel weird when you see us out, right?”
“Well, don’t make a point of having PDA with her around me. That would be weird.”
“Why? Would it make you jealous?”
“No. It would just be awkward because other people there know us and have seen us together.”
“All right. I can wait until you’re over me. Do you think a year is long enough?”
“It’s not that I’m not over you.”
“Yes, it is. That’s OK. You don’t have to admit it. I understand.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just please don’t make a scene.”
“I would never. We’re cool. Hey, let’s do some celebratory shots. Want to?”
“You so want to have closure sex with me right now.”
“Is that what you’re sensing?”
“It’s natural. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Like I said, we don’t connect the way we should. Goodbye.”
“Hey, why are you walking away? Honey? Baby? Um. OK, fine. Whatever. I’m over you already.”
It’s tempting to make use of modern technology for breakups. Email, chat, and text messaging are cowardly means, perfect for pussies like me. Ouch, the e-dump. I’m not proud to admit I’ve done them all. I’ve also received my share, so it’s even.
Here are some creative methods for future consideration:
· Skywriting – “My vagina is under new ownership, now open for business.”
· Scoreboard Announcement – “Adopt this fellow. His shots are current.”
· Bar Napkin – “I hate your ass. Please go away.”
· Paid Search Ad – “Stop googling yourself. You’re stupid and now you’re single too.”
· Obituary – “Our relationship died because he can’t control his f-stick.”
· Rap Lyrics – “Yo shawty, you be whack. Now bounce and gimme my sheeyit back.”
· Sign Language – “Middle finger extended on left hand while right hand waves bye-bye.”
· Barista – Have your favorite Starbucks clerk write the following on his Venti cup: “Your girlfriend is sick of your shit, and will henceforth be referred to as your ex-girlfriend.”
· Coupon – “Get out of one relationship free.”
· Bulletin Board at Work – “She fucked me in conference room B and now I’m fucked. Sorry about the stains.”