Get out your spiral notepads, kids– I just dumped my girlfriend and you need to be taking notes.
And now pay attention here, these should be good notes. Not those half complete thoughts and run-on sentences (interspersed with wiggly lines where you fell asleep and dragged the pen down the length of paper) that you called notes in college but that were ultimately so inadequate, you had to bribe/sexually favor the class nerd for a chance at a C- grade.
It’s difficult to anticipate the herds of questions that will come stampeding my way once friends and family members learn that for once in my 35 28 years of life, I did the dumping. “Why?” they’ll ask, “[Your ex] had a job, a Honda Civic, and didn’t completely bug the hell out of us. Why on earth would you dump them as opposed to waiting until they inevitably discovered that you have the IQ of a bunny rabbit and the sex drive of a sloth and dumped you.” At this point, I’ll lean back in my chair and present them with what I term the doomsday list for this ex (for the sake of argument, let’s call them ex #451), which carefully details the reasons that she had to go. I am not a therapist (shout out to California’s strict licensing laws for therapists) but I do find crafting such a list to be highly therapeutic.
ex #451- The Doomsday List
- ex #451 left me in the Amazon. I’m not mad. It’s just that I still don’t know what an anaconda looks like and I think I may have accidentally peed on one.
- ex #451 made me go to the Amazon. See #1 above.
- ex #451 would get really angry and yell at me on the phone. Hanging up to save my minutes (which seemed perfectly logical at the time) made her even angrier.
- ex #451 nearly ran over a pedestrian once. I know it was an accident but I consider her failure to notice a 6′5″ man in florescent clothing strolling across a crosswalk to be a big indication of her inability to pay attention to details. You know if we’d had kids that we would have lost at least one of them to her backing out of the driveway.
- ex #451 was 4′8″. I’m 5′7″. Not her fault but I kept thinking that I was sleeping with a child. I tried to convince myself that I was having sex with a little person but that fantasy got old real fast.
- ex #451 wasn’t great about putting out but got mad at me if I talked about hooking up with anyone else. This hit me as kind of selfish.
- ex #451 talked to me like her mother spoke to her father. This wouldn’t have been a problem except her mother was a super bitch who was killing her father faster than a firing squad with Uzis.
- ex #451 was unemployed. She refused to turn tricks and thus my birthday and Christmas were a constant disappointment.
- ex #451 was able to get showered and dressed in 19 minutes. I just secretly hated her for this. I have like 7 feet of hair. Do you have any idea how long it takes to blow dry 7 feet of hair?
- ex #451 abused children, kittens, baby bunny rabbits, chicks, and any other small, super adorable, squishy face creature. (Ok… I made that one up, but if she did, certainly a good reason to end the relationship).
So you see the issue here? It’s never any fun to dump someone you care about but when you start thinking that maybe they’re breathing loudly just to bug you, well it’s probably time for them to go (or time for you to buy them a respirator). Bon voyage #451.