Signs That I’m Trying To Break Up With You, In Order Of Increasing Intensity
Welcome to Dumpsville — Population: You. Breaking up is hard to do, but not that hard, because I just don’t like you anymore. But how to signify that in an easy way? Here are the methods by which I indicate to my significant other that I am “just not that into them” anymore. They are listed in order of increasing intensity. I hope that they work as well for you as they have for me:
- I respond to at least 40% of your interjections with the following word: “Huh.”
- I build a small fort in the center of the living room out of blankets, pillows, and a table, and name it “Oliver’s Place.” I spend a lot of time there. Not sure why exactly. I just feel safer and more secure there.
- When we watch the movie Star Wars I quote all the dialogue along with the movie in real time, instead of just letting you watch the damn movie. All the dialogue, even terrible and obscure pieces of dialogue like “Thank the maker! This oil bath is going to feel so-ooo good.”
- I no longer attempt to craft my anecdotes or select them with any care, instead subjecting you to stories like The Time My Plane Sat on the Runaway for Three Damn Hours, or That Time I Went to the Dentist for a Cleaning.
- I express a new interest in horrendously boring yet solitary hobbies: weaving, macramé, pop-topping, learning how to play the lute.
- I begin to actively express my true lustful thoughts for Keira Knightly. …Oh, Keira.
- I begin to express my internal monologue to our cat, in which said activity you sometimes catch me. “I dunno, cat, how I feel about things right now.” “When I look at her, cat, her eyes just seem dead to me.“
- I only ever cook you plain pasta with sauce, the easiest, boringest, and most passive-aggressive-est thing to cook.
- I email Mark Zuckerberg and ask if he can make “Wavering” a new Facebook relationship status.
- I ask if your sister is still married to that dude or if she’s back on the market now.
- I actively fantasize about alternative paths that my life could have taken, but because I met you, my life did not take those paths: “I bet I would have made a good Senator. Or President. I could be the President. ‘The State of the Union is Strong.’ See? I can do that. Or, ‘These pundits and analysis want to slice-and-dice us, divide us into Red States and Blue States. But I say to you all today: we are one nation.’ …See how easy that is? But instead I’m here with you. Or I could have been that guy who does voice-overs for movie trailers. I mean really, how hard could that be…?”
- This is an important one: I send you an actual email or leave you a voicemail informing you that I am breaking up with you.
- I start extolling the virtues of celibacy via various social media outlets.
- I start blocking you on various social media outlets.
- Via email, I cede complete ownership of the cat to you, even though I love that f-cking cat more than you do, but whatever. Anything. Anything that you want.
- I spend so much time on macramé to distract myself from the break-up — which really, come on, it really should be over by now — but I do so much macrame that I actually do become good at macramé. (But I remain only barely competent with the lute.)
- I move to a country wherein umlauts and gravé accent marks are used over the vowels.
- Oh please god make it stop.
- Various law enforcement authorities are notified.
- I get married to a girl. Or possibly a guy at this point — whichever — in which case I move to Provincetown where I open a macramé store. I have children, or adopt them. I develop a deep and loving bond with my life-partner. The children grow; I grow. For the first time in my life, I develop a real and lasting sense of calm. I am able to walk in the garden and stare at our old oak tree and empty my mind, and think nothing more than: “I am standing in the garden. I am looking at the old oak tree. This is good.” I settle into my autumn years. My life has changed and I reflect back on it all, how my children have grown and are pieces of me but are different pieces than I could ever have imagined. Life is life. I am happy. Please stop texting me.
A | A | A
Describe for us the threesome with your OKCupid hookup.
If this doesn’t become the biggest video on the Internet, then I have no faith left in humanity.
I’m about to finish up my sophomore fall of college, and friends from home are getting married and having babies and sufficiently freaking me out.
He was a perfect date. I later got drunk and hacked his phone (who uses their birth year for a password? It was 1986, by the way #teamcougar). What I found was a text to a Kristina explaining his aforementioned sex dream he’d had about her while sleeping next to me in a luxurious hotel bed.