Hoooooom. Yeah, haven't had that in a while. Tell 'em, Gil.
Well. I think that settles that pretty efficiently and effectively.
Meanwhile, if I remember correctly, I was going to talk about more of the absolutely terrible, terrible breakups I've been through, because I'm ignoring the rules I set forth a year or so ago. I'm a rebel, you see.
Okay, fine, it's not as much about the breakups themselves (because some of them were honestly pretty innocuous and were handled well enough by both parties). It's about the way in which it was done. Or attempted, in some cases, because I am like a goddamned leech. I will get into a relationship and I WILL NOT LET GO, BECAUSE THIS IS AMAZING AND I HAVE ALL THAT I EVER NEED RIGHT HERE AND OH GOD OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING WHY IS THERE SOMETHING PULLING ME OFF WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS IT WAS PERFECT THAT'S NOT FAIR THAT'S NOT FAIR AT ALL THERE WAS TIME NOW THERE WAS ALL THE TIME I NEEDED IT'S NOT FAIR.
And then it ends, and months later, I've maybe moved on a little bit. But enough of that. I've got to remember what my number 3 was going to be. But anyway.
THE WORST WAYS TO GET DUMPED- PART 2: DUMP HARDER (OKAY, MAYBE WE'LL FIND A BETTER NAME AT SOME POINT)
2. The Phone A Friend
When last we left our intrepidly awkward and complacent hero (because what's a hero, anyway?), there was talk of patching things up with Lucille. And patch things up they did for about two months.
"But, Rob," you may cry, and cry you should as clearly I have become a master wordsmith with the oil of Olivier, "I mean, it sounds like you're just going to get a phone call from the lady who's going to say something about how she's not interested or how you've grown apart or how you should see other people or just be friends or you don't know what it means to be a boyfriend or you've never pleased a woman and she needs a real man or something reasonable like that. I mean, that sucks, and you should probably read some books about female anatomy because, I mean, wow, I'm not hearing good things here."
To which I say, "Wow. Wow, Subconscious. You really went there. What a dick. But if you had let me finish the story before butting in and just giving everyone mood whiplash (since we're going from the self-aggrandizing 'oil of Olivier' to the self-deprecating (and wildly false) 'read some books'), I would have explained that that's not even remotely what happened. Furthermore, I'll have you know that I have read at least five books, and one of them didn't even have pictures in it."
But no. That's not how this went down at all.
One Saturday morning, I'm sitting at home, probably playing on my Game Boy or some shit. I get a phone call. As we mentioned last time, at this point, I'm exceptionally inept on the phone. I mean EXCEPTIONALLY inept. I hear that there's some girl who wants to talk to me. Oh, cool. Probably Lucille, wanting to talk about how totes cute I am, what with looking like the big man, HJO.
Oh. Okay, yeah, it's not Lucille. It's one of her friends. Well, she's in some of the same classes as I, so she probably has a question about homework or som-
Oh. She has a message from Lucille. Well, Lucille probably had something else to do-
What. Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHAT?
She's pulling this shit again.
Yeah, this is pretty similar to the first one in the list, in that I'm being dumped via letter. The crucial (and hilarious) detail in this is that I don't get to read the note. No, it is being read to me over the phone by one of her friends. She decided to dump me AGAIN. More than that, she decided to dump me BY PROXY. AGAIN. I mean, I get that I look AWFULLY pathetic when I'm sad or beating myself up or something, and it was probably substantially worse in 7th grade when the world was conspiring against me in every way, leading to my incredibly fragile emotional state. But, really? Really? Really. Really? I just. What?
The moral of this story, kids, is, "Don't break up with people by proxy." I mean, I guess the moral is more along the lines of, "Don't date people who break up with people by proxy," but I figured that it's hard to tell these sorts of things early on (as evidenced by Lucille and the Cemetery Strangler).
3. The IM LEEVIN U
Honestly, this one isn't really even that bad. Well, no, it sort of is, but the breakups that I had in this means weren't particularly remarkable, because they were pretty short term with relatively few dates. Don't get me wrong, they were important for what they- actually. No. One was important, because I went to prom with her after the fact and due to the insane, insane fallout that happened afterwards because I have my moments of vague sociopathy/libertine-ness (because those are both words now, no matter what Firefox may try to say about it).
Anyway, yes. As we've dealt with pretty extensively, I wasn't much for phones when I was in high school, and that led to a lot of computer conversations, which led to AIM conversations with lady friends.
This led to AIM conversations with girlfriends, which also ended up leading to AIM breakups. For those of you who have never experienced an AIM breakup, this is pretty much how it goes (you'll have to imagine the sound effects- I have a feeling that some of you can imagine them ALL TOO WELL):
CutesyAndWeird1: oh hey
WeirdAndCutesy1: hey
CutesyAndWeird1: what's up? haven't tlaked to you in a while
CutesyAndWeird1: talked*
WeirdAndCutesy1: yeah...
CutesyAndWeird1: how is that thing that we talked about that one time?
CutesyAndWeird1: you know, that thing that i'm trying to use as a means of continuing a conversation and not having a bunch of awkward pauses
CutesyAndWeird1: are you still there?
CutesyAndWeird1: it's been like ten minutes
CutesyAndWeird1: and now it's been like twenty
CutesyAndWeird1: i feel like there's some cue that i should be getting, but i'm just trying to delay the inevitable conversation
WeirdAndCutesy1: Listen. [Author's note: You can tell it's important by the proper punctuation.] I think you're great, but we don't see each other very often, and I'm tired of being in this relationship.
CutesyAndWeird1: Oh.
CutesyAndWeird1: well, I guess that's all right. We'll just be friends. It won't be an awkward or shallow agreement at all, and we'll totally hang out frequently to maintain a healthy friendship.
I mean, there's the conversational aspect of it, which is nice, but it's still pretty impersonal. A letter is more personal. Geez, a text message is more personal (FORESHADOWING).
But, like I said, in both cases, the breakup itself just wasn't that huge of a deal, so it's not like I made any real effort to talk them out of it. In contrast...
4. This Text Is Full Of Terrible
Fast forward a few years. I'm in college. I'm dating a girl who, despite disagreements on certain aspects of our relationship, seems pretty groovy. And hey, disagreements? I mean, I'm probably wrong, and my friends trying to convince me otherwise just don't understand because I'm bad at explaining the situation to them.
One day, I'm at lunch with my department, as we do every week. I'm talking and having a groovy time, like you do with chemists, because they're awesome.
Oh, hey, a text message. And it's from my special lady! That's wonderful!
"Rob, I can't do this anymore. I think you're great, but we need to break up. I'm sorry."
Oh, God. Wow. That was the opposite of wonderful. Did she- Yeah. She just broke up with me by text message. This- this came out of nowhere. What? This makes no sense. Why did she send this to me during lunch? And now I get to act like nothing's going on while talking with my professors for the next twenty minutes.
I mean, I've gotten rejection via text message before, and you know what? Sure. I can dig it. Phone calls, for better or worse, have become something of a luxury. Texting lets you edit your Anti-Love Note until you've gotten the wording just so.
But when you've been dating someone for a year (possibly not exclusively, but don't tell THEM that)? You'd think there would be enough respect to at least give a phone call. Maybe just a text that says, "Hey, we need to talk." That gets you prepared for the worst. I don't care what sort of hormones you've started/stopped taking and how out of whack your brain chemistry might be (again, you may think I'm exaggerating, but this was pretty close to the explanation that I got at the time, so I am running with it).
But don't worry- I made sure we talked it out, and everything worked out for the best.
So, the real moral of the story? Rob is awesome at relationship advice, because he has found every possible way to do it wrong.
 |
| Hooooooooom. |
Well. I think that settles that pretty efficiently and effectively.
Meanwhile, if I remember correctly, I was going to talk about more of the absolutely terrible, terrible breakups I've been through, because I'm ignoring the rules I set forth a year or so ago. I'm a rebel, you see.
 |
| He'll be right with you once he finishes growing the smallest leather jacket ever. |
Okay, fine, it's not as much about the breakups themselves (because some of them were honestly pretty innocuous and were handled well enough by both parties). It's about the way in which it was done. Or attempted, in some cases, because I am like a goddamned leech. I will get into a relationship and I WILL NOT LET GO, BECAUSE THIS IS AMAZING AND I HAVE ALL THAT I EVER NEED RIGHT HERE AND OH GOD OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING WHY IS THERE SOMETHING PULLING ME OFF WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS IT WAS PERFECT THAT'S NOT FAIR THAT'S NOT FAIR AT ALL THERE WAS TIME NOW THERE WAS ALL THE TIME I NEEDED IT'S NOT FAIR.
 |
| "Leech" may have been too generous of a term. Om nom nom nom nom. |
THE WORST WAYS TO GET DUMPED- PART 2: DUMP HARDER (OKAY, MAYBE WE'LL FIND A BETTER NAME AT SOME POINT)
2. The Phone A Friend
When last we left our intrepidly awkward and complacent hero (because what's a hero, anyway?), there was talk of patching things up with Lucille. And patch things up they did for about two months.
"But, Rob," you may cry, and cry you should as clearly I have become a master wordsmith with the oil of Olivier, "I mean, it sounds like you're just going to get a phone call from the lady who's going to say something about how she's not interested or how you've grown apart or how you should see other people or just be friends or you don't know what it means to be a boyfriend or you've never pleased a woman and she needs a real man or something reasonable like that. I mean, that sucks, and you should probably read some books about female anatomy because, I mean, wow, I'm not hearing good things here."
To which I say, "Wow. Wow, Subconscious. You really went there. What a dick. But if you had let me finish the story before butting in and just giving everyone mood whiplash (since we're going from the self-aggrandizing 'oil of Olivier' to the self-deprecating (and wildly false) 'read some books'), I would have explained that that's not even remotely what happened. Furthermore, I'll have you know that I have read at least five books, and one of them didn't even have pictures in it."
 |
| Okay, fine, there were pictures in the middle, but they weren't integrated or integral to the story. |
But no. That's not how this went down at all.
One Saturday morning, I'm sitting at home, probably playing on my Game Boy or some shit. I get a phone call. As we mentioned last time, at this point, I'm exceptionally inept on the phone. I mean EXCEPTIONALLY inept. I hear that there's some girl who wants to talk to me. Oh, cool. Probably Lucille, wanting to talk about how totes cute I am, what with looking like the big man, HJO.
 |
| Calm yourselves, ladies. His shirt is still on, he's just a picture, and he's probably, like, 12 in this picture. This is not Spain. |
Oh. She has a message from Lucille. Well, Lucille probably had something else to do-
What. Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHAT?
She's pulling this shit again.
Yeah, this is pretty similar to the first one in the list, in that I'm being dumped via letter. The crucial (and hilarious) detail in this is that I don't get to read the note. No, it is being read to me over the phone by one of her friends. She decided to dump me AGAIN. More than that, she decided to dump me BY PROXY. AGAIN. I mean, I get that I look AWFULLY pathetic when I'm sad or beating myself up or something, and it was probably substantially worse in 7th grade when the world was conspiring against me in every way, leading to my incredibly fragile emotional state. But, really? Really? Really. Really? I just. What?
 |
| It was a profoundly British moment. |
The moral of this story, kids, is, "Don't break up with people by proxy." I mean, I guess the moral is more along the lines of, "Don't date people who break up with people by proxy," but I figured that it's hard to tell these sorts of things early on (as evidenced by Lucille and the Cemetery Strangler).
3. The IM LEEVIN U
Honestly, this one isn't really even that bad. Well, no, it sort of is, but the breakups that I had in this means weren't particularly remarkable, because they were pretty short term with relatively few dates. Don't get me wrong, they were important for what they- actually. No. One was important, because I went to prom with her after the fact and due to the insane, insane fallout that happened afterwards because I have my moments of vague sociopathy/libertine-ness (because those are both words now, no matter what Firefox may try to say about it).
Anyway, yes. As we've dealt with pretty extensively, I wasn't much for phones when I was in high school, and that led to a lot of computer conversations, which led to AIM conversations with lady friends.
 |
| Not shown: the legions of ladies chasing him. LADIES. |
CutesyAndWeird1: oh hey
WeirdAndCutesy1: hey
CutesyAndWeird1: what's up? haven't tlaked to you in a while
CutesyAndWeird1: talked*
WeirdAndCutesy1: yeah...
CutesyAndWeird1: how is that thing that we talked about that one time?
CutesyAndWeird1: you know, that thing that i'm trying to use as a means of continuing a conversation and not having a bunch of awkward pauses
CutesyAndWeird1: are you still there?
CutesyAndWeird1: it's been like ten minutes
CutesyAndWeird1: and now it's been like twenty
CutesyAndWeird1: i feel like there's some cue that i should be getting, but i'm just trying to delay the inevitable conversation
WeirdAndCutesy1: Listen. [Author's note: You can tell it's important by the proper punctuation.] I think you're great, but we don't see each other very often, and I'm tired of being in this relationship.
CutesyAndWeird1: Oh.
CutesyAndWeird1: well, I guess that's all right. We'll just be friends. It won't be an awkward or shallow agreement at all, and we'll totally hang out frequently to maintain a healthy friendship.
I mean, there's the conversational aspect of it, which is nice, but it's still pretty impersonal. A letter is more personal. Geez, a text message is more personal (FORESHADOWING).
But, like I said, in both cases, the breakup itself just wasn't that huge of a deal, so it's not like I made any real effort to talk them out of it. In contrast...
4. This Text Is Full Of Terrible
Fast forward a few years. I'm in college. I'm dating a girl who, despite disagreements on certain aspects of our relationship, seems pretty groovy. And hey, disagreements? I mean, I'm probably wrong, and my friends trying to convince me otherwise just don't understand because I'm bad at explaining the situation to them.
One day, I'm at lunch with my department, as we do every week. I'm talking and having a groovy time, like you do with chemists, because they're awesome.
 |
| Lab safety is for the weak. Eyesight is for the strong, though, so it ends up being a wash. |
Oh, hey, a text message. And it's from my special lady! That's wonderful!
"Rob, I can't do this anymore. I think you're great, but we need to break up. I'm sorry."
Oh, God. Wow. That was the opposite of wonderful. Did she- Yeah. She just broke up with me by text message. This- this came out of nowhere. What? This makes no sense. Why did she send this to me during lunch? And now I get to act like nothing's going on while talking with my professors for the next twenty minutes.
I mean, I've gotten rejection via text message before, and you know what? Sure. I can dig it. Phone calls, for better or worse, have become something of a luxury. Texting lets you edit your Anti-Love Note until you've gotten the wording just so.
 |
| It must be SO just so. |
But when you've been dating someone for a year (possibly not exclusively, but don't tell THEM that)? You'd think there would be enough respect to at least give a phone call. Maybe just a text that says, "Hey, we need to talk." That gets you prepared for the worst. I don't care what sort of hormones you've started/stopped taking and how out of whack your brain chemistry might be (again, you may think I'm exaggerating, but this was pretty close to the explanation that I got at the time, so I am running with it).
But don't worry- I made sure we talked it out, and everything worked out for the best.
 |
| Just the best. |
So, the real moral of the story? Rob is awesome at relationship advice, because he has found every possible way to do it wrong.
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