Breaking Up is Hard to Do

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A silly look at the worst (okay, worse than worst) way a relationship can end. If you've ever messed up breaking up with someone, you will appreciate this.

Submitted: February 17, 2007

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Submitted: February 17, 2007



You think you’ve had bad breakups? Oh no. I got you way beat. Just wait for it...

A few months ago, my girlfriend and I were at the beach and decided to have our picture taken in one of those touristy booths they have on the boardwalk. It was when I saw the resulting snapshot strip that I realized I wasn’t dating the most photogenic person in the world.

I could rationalize that the camera adds a few pounds. And a grossly disproportionate pair of ears. And a unibrow. But her other physical flaws were hard to blame on a simple camera. Like the webbed toes. Or the off-center belly button. Or the back hair.

Because of a silly picture, I was no longer attracted to her at all. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t stand being around her. It was time to call it quits.

Admittedly, my first attempt at ending the relationship was very poor. I assumed she would get the hint that things were over when I refused to make eye contact with her. After two weeks, she had me treated for social anxiety disorder. Some people just can’t take a hint.

The forced therapy wasn’t so bad. I got to work on my bullshitting skills. I’d spend the whole hour talking about how the government secretly employs aliens. And how all policemen are communist, drug-dealing pedophiles. It was kinda fun.

My second attempt didn’t go so well either because my lousy sense of logic kicked in. I’ve noticed before that just as I’m trying to eternally part ways with that no-longer-special someone, my mind plays a dirty trick on me. It reminds me that there is an easy possibility of sex tonight, but the moment the words "just friends" are uttered, sex is off the menu for today, tomorrow and next week.

What happens is that I realize that the next time I want to touch a naked girl for free, I’m going to have to go through all that work again with an entirely different person. I’d have to repeat all that effort of dinners, movies, grandparent birthdays and storing emergency tampons at my apartment. When the promise of sex is right in front of you, the decision is already made. I rationalized it as a generous act of "Goodbye Sex."

In hindsight, I probably should have waited until the next day to break up with her. Hell, I should have waited until I had my pants back on. But I know me. I’m always putting things off. It had to be done immediately. She needed to get started on piecing her life together as soon as possible. The sooner I allowed her to do that by blatantly rejecting her, the better. I also realized that having just had sex, this was the furthest from horny I was going to be, so I had to hurry up before I was ready to go again.

"I think we should stop seeing each other."

"What? Why?"

Why do they always want a reason? I’m not applying for a loan here. I just don’t want to see you ever again.

"That’s just how I feel."

"But... I don’t- what do you mean?"

I swear, some people are just begging to be hurt. How about, "I find everything about you repulsive?" But no, you can’t say that. Society demands that we leave the emotionally rejected some amount of dignity. So of course, I have to make up a reason to make her agree that the relationship is over.

"Well, Judy-"


"Yeah, Jennifer. The thing is, I’m almost twenty years old. I can’t stay in an immature relationship like this forever. I’m ready to start a family. I want kids- lots of them. At least 12."

Ah yes. Eternal commitment. There’s nothing better to send a wild, adventurous college-aged girl running than the idea of maternity wear.

"Really? Me too! I’ve always wanted a big family. I always thought I’d wait until after college, but you know what? You’re right. Let’s do it. Let’s get married."

That didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. In fact, I don’t think it could have gone worse. It was clearly time to change directions.

"Alright, I lied. I don’t want to get married. That was just a cover. The truth is that I’ve been hired to kill you."


"Yeah, I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but someone has paid me $10,000 to kill you. Everything you know about me is a lie. Spending the past 9 months together was just a way for me to get close to you, to get to know your patterns so that I could complete my mission."

"This is ridiculous."

"Perhaps. But the only thing you can do right now is get on the next bus out of town and never come back."

"Joseph, what are you talking about?"

"Jud- Jud- just listen to me!"

"Tell me the truth!"

"I am! Someone wants you killed and I’m supposed to do it. But I can’t. I committed the cardinal rule of contract killing. I got too close. It was my mistake, but at this moment, I don’t see it as a mistake at all. You deserve to live. The world would be a terrible place without you. Fly away, sweet sparrow. Fly fly."

"Oh yeah? Who hired you then, huh? Who wants me killed?"

I’m trying to save this girl’s life and she wants to play twenty questions. It started to take a toll on my patience, as well as my ability to improvise.

"Someone close to you?"

"Yeah? Like who?"

"Uh... your... grandmother? Yup. Your grandmother."

"Nanna? Ha! Yeah, that sounds about right. My eighty-seven year old grandmother is trying to have me bumped off."

"Well, I never did see the person’s face, but it sounded an awful lot like Nanna. Look, it’s not my job to question someone’s motive. I’m paid to do a job and I’m just supposed to do it. Somewhere along the line, you pissed her off and now we know that Nanna is not a woman to cross."

I think the truth of my blatant lies was starting to sink in because she didn’t say anything for a long time.

"I see. I think it’s time to go."

"Huh? I mean, yeah. I know. It’s okay. You’ll be fine. Thanks for changing my life. You’ve showed me the beauty of- oh, there’s my belt! Anyway, take it easy."

As I left her apartment, thoughts of sweet freedom filled my brain. I felt incredibly alive as the chilled night air wrapped around me during my walk home. When I went to sleep that night, I was prepared for the greatest slumber of my life. Finally, a huge, freakish weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

It was probably sometime around 4am that the police crashed into my bedroom. I’m not sure if my now ex-girlfriend had believed my grandmother-contracted killer story, but either way she felt it best to involve the authorities.

When they questioned me at police headquarters, I got real scared. So I figured there was only one way to clear this whole mess up: continue lying.

I said that she’d made up the whole ‘grandmother contract-killing scenario.’ I believe my exact words were, "I mean c’mon. How pathetic of an excuse is that to try and break up with someone?" The boys down at the station started to warm up to me, so I kept right on rolling with the sympathy card.

"What really happened is that she had really broken up with me. I was just so upset that I didn’t want to leave. I mean – who wouldn’t want to stay with that pretty little face? But my anger got the better of me and I lied and said that I had slept with her stepmom. So then she said she would call the cops on me. I didn’t think she’d really do it. But hey- ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ am I right, guys?"

They ate it all up. That is until my medical history turned up. All they cared about then was that I had recently been put under psychological care for "social alienation." Then they got to the part about cops being "communist, drug-dealing pedophiles." F-ing ouch is right.

And that’s how I ended up in the county jail. It’s terrible. What I miss most is the freedom of being able to choose your mates. I currently find myself in an arranged relationship. But it’s not so bad. If only it weren’t for the unibrow. And the back hair. And the Adam’s apple.

So I'd say I have the better breakup story. Wouldn't you?

© Copyright 2018 joseph bradford. All rights reserved.

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