They say that breaking up is hard to do.....

I mentioned this on that romantic status thread a while ago, but I know some people will get a kick out of the whole story. ...

I once broke up with a girl who insisted on spelling coming c-u-m-m-i-n-g over instant messenger. No lie.

I was a freshman at college and she was a senior in high school. We were off and on a couple times, and she was seemingly always on my last nerve. I was talking with a couple friends, Jeff and Melissa, when she signs online at work to talk. I was happy to hear from her because I loved the girl. But then she asked, "When are you cumming home next?"

I was irritated. I said, "Why do you have to spell coming that way? It's stupid." She said, "I don't know. I like it and it saves time." I was fucking stunned. It saves fucking time? I couldn't fucking believe it.

The entire time, I'm sending this conversation to Jeff and Melissa. I ask Jeff, "Is this girl out of her fucking mind? Correct me if I'm wrong, but 'cumming' has more letters than 'coming,' right?" Sure enough, Jeff, who is quite good at counting, says my instinct was right.

That just fueled the fire. We fought for about 15 minutes before I tell her we're done. I hated that I did this online; I actually told her once that I'd never end things with her that way -- if at all -- because a friend of hers was dumped over the Internet, and I thought it was a spineless move. But I couldn't fucking stand it anymore. "I have to go back to work," she said. So off she went.

Ten minutes later, Melissa sends me a message and says, "Oh, my God, you'll never guess who called me. ..." Melissa pretended she had no idea what was going on and consoled the broken-hearted high-schooler until she got home.

I'm out, right? Wrong. I get a phone call the next day, and I'm greeted by a familiar voice. "Hello," I said. "Hey, what's up?" the supposedly jilted ex-girlfriend said in a cheery voice. "Uh, nothing?" I said. "How about you?" "Oh, not too much," she said. "It's just been a couple days since we talked."

Fucking what?

"Uh, what about last night?" I asked. "What are you talking about?" she said. "Online," I said. "You were at work and signed online, and we broke up." "Uh," she said. "I don't know what you mean; I wasn't online."

What the fuck do I say to that? She was crying on the fucking phone to my friend. But now she doesn't remember it?

And she says, "So, are you coming home this weekend?" And I know that fucking bitch said it c-u-m-m-i-n-g. I fucking know it.

Anyway, I ended up going back home for Columbus Day weekend, and we got "back together" -- at least, I think we were apart – and stayed with her for a couple more years.

I'm still kind of in awe of that one.

 

I thought of that, too, only well after that whole ordeal. No, she did enough drugs, so the mickey probably wouldn't have done its job.

I can't believe I'm even saying mickey. ...

 

That's freaking classic, Mike.

I've had two sad breakups in my life.

The first, in 1983, my girlfriend just didn't want me anymore. We were all part of a "Rocky Horror Picture Show" group that took to the stage every Friday night at midnight in Riverside, Calif. Her father played Meat Loaf and mother was one of our Magentas. I was mostly the narrator and did lighting.

Word got around quickly that we were through, because most of the group got together one night for a party, and I wasn't invited. In fact, I came home from work and was locked out of the house I shared with another Magenta and our Frank 'N Furter.

When said Magenta and Frank returned home, Frank told me, in great detail, how my "ex" read all of the poems and love notes to the entire party before burning them. Mind you, I did nothing to deserve getting dumped (OK, one of our Columbias deep-throated me on my birthday, but that shouldn't have counted).

Keep in mind, I was a brilliant fucking romantic at this time -- with the love notes and poems and shit -- but I just turned 19 and am was, um, easily swayed by the opposite sex, if you know what I mean.

Anyhow, everyone from the group deserted me. Everyone except Columbia's 10-year-old daughter, who came up to me before a show one night with a big hug and told me she would be my friend forever, no matter what.

After the show, we met at Denny's for a monthly group meeting. The little girl left early with her father.

On the way home, he stopped to help a stranded motorist. He parked his motorcycle on the right shoulder and was trying to help a guy get his car out of the road.

Along came this drunken motherfucker, who decided to pass on the right. He plowed into the bike and the little girl, throwing her about 75 feet and killing her. The next day was the only time I've ever called the suicide hotline, and -- I shit you not -- they put me on hold.

One month later, Frank and Magenta kicked me out and I lived on the streets for a while.

The other breakup was a torrid relationship I had with a married woman for about 10 months that ended abruptly when her 7-year-old son caught us kissing in their living room. Best sex I've ever had.

For some reason, that story just didn't seem to have the same zip as the first.

 

And Harley, I'm not certain this will have anywhere near the juice of your first, either. My God, man...

Several years ago, I was engaged to a nice enough girl. We got along famously while she was in undergrad at a rival school; she was a real sweetheart, a good friend to anyone who needed it.

She went on to grad school, considerably further away in central Pa. I remember the first time I went up there, I think it was when she was moving in, I was pretty upset because the reality of the whole thing sank in.

"You're gonna be here with all of your smart friends," I told her, or something close to it. "You're not gonna want to be with your ex-jock sportswriter boyfriend."

"No, we'll be just fine," she said, or something close to it.

But things did change. She slowly became aloof, seemed to have less and less time for me (which I figured was for her studies, something she was deadly serious about). After my grandmother passed away, I was desperate to get out of town and think about something else for a while; she essentially told me not to bother, that I'd be better off staying with my family - which was a fine sentiment, but not very helpful toward my mental state.

I wasn't real happy with the whole relationship after that, but I thought it's just what you did. You sucked it up for the team, you know?

Meanwhile, we got engaged at some point, but actual plans for a wedding never really materialized. Again, I chalked it up to the rigors of her work, thinking it would happen when things settled down.

One night, after I had moved south, we were talking like we did most every night. I was still in the office working on something, and it was weird because two colleagues happened to be in there too (it was a bureau, not our main office).

Then, at one point during the chat, she pops off with: "You know, I've been thinking..."

My heart sank. Son of a bitch, she's gonna drop the bomb.

"... that maybe we shouldn't get married."

A few minutes later, when the conversation ended, I said, "Well boys, what's say we go get lit? I just got kicked to the curb."

So we visited a watering hole that we had frequented. I mentioned the whole deal to our waitress and proceeded to get hammered - and I do mean hammered. I got my bill at the end of the night and it was like $17. I bet I drank at least double that.

Hungover the next morning, I went out and bought myself a PS2. The first day of the rest of my life...

 

The only person I've ever broken up with was my "Mrs. Robinson." There were no feelings ... it was a blatantly sexual relationship. We were fuck buddies, basically. Good ones, too. Well, she was, at least. Hell, I was only 19.

I pretty much just told her I was leaving. She started crying and pretty much raped me. Best sex we ever had. Then I walked out.


Edit: So, it wasn't that hard. The breaking up, that is.

 

Wow.
Just.
Wow.

 

The PS2 was the better investment, man.

 

Sports was at the root of one of my big breakups. The Auburn-Alabama rivarly concluded another.

First, I was dating a guy a few years ago and one of our ever-present arguments was over who won the 1985 World Series. I told him Kansas City and he insisted Detroit. And he not only stood by it, he swore by it. He called one night and sounded defeated so I asked him if he was OK. "You were right," he sighed. "Kansas City did win the 1985 World Series." I added that Detroit won the 1984 World Series and the Mets won the '86 Series. It became a sticking point for us in the final few weeks of our relationship and when we finally had "the big fight" I told him, "you were pissed that I had my life together AND that I knew more about sports, weren't you?" He didn't answer. I knew there was no chance of saving this relationship.

Second, I dated a guy from Montgomery, Alabama during college. His family bled crimson and white, and I was once scolded by him for saying something about Auburn. O-kay. The relationship started out great but got real ugly and ended with the mother of all fights, in my college dorm room. In the interest of security, of course I had to escort him to the front door and we're still yelling as he reached for the door. "Don't ever call me again!" I yelled at him. "I will get on with my life, I will take care of myself ..."

And as he turned to say one more thing to me I shouted one final F. you before I slammed the front door behind him.

"AND I WILL SEND MY CHILDREN TO AUBURN!"

 

Well, I got divorced from my stinkin ex husband who was a jerk. No funny here.

A friend though has had awful luck when it comes to men. She was engaged to someone after three years of being together. Already engaged a few months, the guy went out clubbing one night and took a girl home with him. Banged her and she ended up preggers.
The pregger girl had parents that were lawyers and they threatened to sue him if he did not marry her.

So jerk marries her and my friend did not know for a couple of months. Jerk was playing the fence. Friend's mother's friend blurted it out a couple of months later assuming friend knew it. Well, shock ensued as friend did not expect this. Knew jerk had a drinking problem because he used to serenade her at 4am in the morning outside her bedroom window.

Also, luck would have it that this very same friend lost two boyfriends to death. One boyfriend died in a tragic house fire when he went back to get his sister. Another boyfriend died when his BMW served off the highway years ago. This boyfriend hadn't gotten any sleep and just finished seeing my friend earlier that night.

Not sure these are great breakups, but sad ones indeed. Friend is hestitant to go out with anyone because she feels she is bad luck in the relationship department. Either she gets cheated on, or they die.

 

Especially that one morning I was bored and went to the nearby Best Buy looking for a game. I saw a pretty neat cover for a game I'd never heard of, was intrigued by what I saw on the back and figured it was worth a try. Some little game called "Grand Theft Auto 3," long before the relentless hype of the series began swelling.

So yeah, after that point, it was a slam dunk.