Monday, March 05, 2007

Like Being Back In Middle School

Back when I was in 6th grade, we didn’t have email or sidekicks. Hell, the only person anyone knew with a cell phone was Zach Morris, and that thing was way too big to carry around in your book bag. So when we inexperienced and immature kids who had just discovered that weird, bizarre world of “dating” (which typically included sitting at the same table at lunch and occasionally having our parents take us to a movie) wanted to stop seeing someone, our options for dumping them were very limited. There was always the old pass-them-a-note-in-class option, or, if you were a little more “serious,” you might call their parents’ house and tell them over the phone. The best of all, however, was sending a friend to do your dirty work. Like when Susie sends her friend Jenny over to little Mikey’s table to tell him that Susie won’t be coming over after school to “play video games” anymore. Leaving Mikey to be duly ridiculed for the rest of lunch up to and including having chocolate milk dumped on his head and/or getting his French Fries stolen.

Ah, but now we are in the 21st and century and kids are ass deep in MySpace, texts and IM’s. They have lightning-fast email so Susie can tell Mikey during 2nd period computers over email that she doesn’t want to “hang out” anymore and he can sit across the room and deal with it by himself as he reads his screen. Or she can send him a text at lunch. Or an IM at night. And while there really is no good way to break up with someone, the advent of technology has at least given us the ability to cut out the middle man, and no longer does Jenny have to be involved in any of Susie and Mikey’s affairs. Faceless, unilateral dumpings can be done with the push of a button, so the dumper doesn’t have to deal with any arguments from the dumpee, but said dumpee still at least knows that their presence is no longer appreciated. And oddly enough, since the kids can do it so can the adults.

As I said, there is no good way to tell someone you will no longer be sleeping with them. There just isn’t. But once you are past a certain age, say, oh, 14, once you have had sex with someone multiple times you generally let them know directly when you don’t want it to happen anymore. You can use email, text, phone call, post-it note, whatever. What you do not do is this: You do not send a coworker into the job of the person you are dumping to say “Hey, you know so-and-so? Yeah, she just wanted to say she’s sorry she hasn’t called you back and that she is back with her ex-boyfriend. Have a good night.” At which point the female bartender working next to the guy who just got dumped says “Was that for real?” and he nods his head yes and she says “Wow, that’s really fucked up!” Yes, Kathy, yes it was.

In this day and age, there are a number of ways to deliver that message. Sending your coworker to a busy Friday-Night bar during happy hour to do it right before the rush comes is not one of those ways. Fortunately, Kathy, my coworker, had a little more tact than my 6th Grade lunch buddies and did not dump a bottle of Grey Goose on my head leaving me soaked in alcohol for the rest of the night. And I was not at all surprised by this turn of events. But I had expected a little more out of someone with an advanced degree.

By the end of the night, I was pretty much over it. I had worked my ass off and made a lot of money and was laughing about it with Kathy and the rest of the lady bartenders. Who all agreed with that it was, in fact, “Fucked up.” I have decided to invoke the wisdom of Dr. Alex Karev by telling myself “Stop moping around. You got to have sex with a hot chick. Quit being a little baby and enjoy it.” And so I leave myself not with the memories of being dumped at work by a third party, but rather with the memories of having sex with a tall, pretty blonde who drove a hot convertible and had a sweet apartment. About how tight she was and the face she made when she climaxed. Or pretended to. About the landing strip of pubic hair she had, and how she hated wearing clothes. About looking out her panoramic view of Biscayne Bay and Downtown as I fucked her from behind, thinking “This is a Miami Memory I will have forever.” About her dog jumping up on her white sheets and humping along with us, or her slender, lean body strolling naked through my apartment for my Cuban neighbors to see. About the way she grabs your head when you climax, and the way she strokes your shoulder as you collapse onto her. And the way she hates condoms. And how much better it feels because she does.

So while last Friday will forever be remembered as the day I got dumped at work, I will choose to remember the sex and not the end. After all, its March for chrissakes. It’s a lot easier to bang spring breakers when you don’t have to lie about it.

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7 Comments:

At 5:55 PM, Blogger Paul said...

hahahah

About her dog jumping up on her white sheets and humping along with us

hahahaha

 
At 10:28 PM, Blogger angel, jr. said...

Hmmm. That sucks--the being dumped part. But glad you aren't being a baby about it.

 
At 9:45 AM, Blogger El Tuno Gringo said...

Maybe she's depressed after such a traumatic break-up... wanna forward her contact info so that someone else can comfort her?

 
At 1:31 PM, Blogger Jordi said...

Personally, I would rather the 6th grade 3rd party treatment than to flat out be ignored. Which has happened to me on a few occasions.

 
At 4:15 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

She sounds like an ass. That really IS a sick way to break up with someone. And the fact that the co-worker started with "you know so and so?" is stupider.

But really, your description of her, and the fact that you'd sleep with someone who doesn't care to use a condom (gee, I guess nobody gets chlamydia) shows that you are pretty shallow and boring, so I guess you date people like you. Your ex who you wrote about on your blog seemed way too good for you, and you should have broken up with her earlier instead of subjecting her to your secret webposts and complaints that she wasn't swallowing your gigalo semen. (And no, I'm actually not this angry in my normal life, but you are sometimes quite asinine so as a reader i am pointing it out. Thanks.)

 
At 4:36 PM, Blogger David in DC said...

Fuck her and the horse she rode in on.

 
At 10:15 AM, Blogger ジェネヴィーヴ said...

About her dog jumping up on her white sheets and humping along with us

That reminds me of how my cat used to sit at the end of the bed while the ex and I had sex.

I suppose that's a uhm... good way of thinking about things. Being dumped is never fun. At least you're not all mopey.

 

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