How NOT to Breakup

Quiz: Did I google "breakup" or "fisting" to find this? Anyone's guess!

Let me pose a hypothetical for a second. Imagine you’ve just found out the person you think you’ve been seriously seeing for a year has been seeing someone else – and you’ve found out in the worst way possible. What would you do? Now that you’ve taken a minute to put yourself in those shoes, read about how I reacted and leave this site a happier person, knowing you will probably never do something this idiotic thanks to your general good sense and my handy list of “dont’s.” Let me take you back 12 hours post-bad news and start with my first misstep…

1. Do not try to make a rational decision after a day of binge drinking

OK – haven’t we all been there really? You get some bad news – gut reaction – dull the pain. For some reason it seems like girls especially are programmed to head out for a Clueless-esque “girl’s day/night out” which almost always starts with some sugary mixed drinks over a civilized discussion and ends with a gaggle of screaming banchees demanding “mos tequilla por favor!!!!!”  Especially for those girls who’ve just found out they’ve been the caboose on a whore-train. You’re getting the picture. So this is exactly where I found myself 12 hours later – and was exactly the point at which my tequila-demanding fun turned into beligerance, then rage, then a minute of drunken crying, then (finally!)…the quiet strength and utter decisiveness of a woman scorned. Oh yeah…I was going to give this guy an EARFUL. I was going to TELL HIM what was what. And I was going to look good doing it. I was going to ask him questions and make him feel uncomfortable and just Matlock the CRAP out of that guy. I was going to be hot and untouchable and when I was done…I was going to WALK out of his life FOREVER. You TAKE that – you TAKE it! So there I was on a street corner in Pacific Beach telling my friends my plan – and not one of them was sober enough to be able to see the obvious oncoming hurt collision. This brings us to “what not to do” #2…

2. Do not take a party cab to a breakup

Maybe you feel like it will lighten the mood – or maybe, as in my case, its just the first thing to show up. Well let me tell you –  the whirling disco ball that seems spirit-lifting on your way to the breakup will make you feel like you’re in a freaky mash-up of Donnie Darko and Pink Floyd’s The Wall on your way back from the breakup. You’ll never want to disco again – and that’s serious. You will feel like Alice in Wonderland on crack – or – Johnny Depp in real life all the time. You will feel like you’ve just done something crazy (and not in the fun way) – and if you’re in a party cab – chances are, you have. So – flashback to me – there I am with my Jamaican Party Cab driver – I don’t remember what I requested him to play but I’m going to guess it was something Madonna – and we’re both singing like crazy and I’m screaming my story over his shoulder whenever there’s an instrumental break. He is LOVING it. He says I will kick this guy’s ASS. YES PARTY CAB DRIVER! That is the SPIRIT! YES I WILL! We are rocking out. We are in on this together. No two people have ever felt such solidarity. And finally we arrive at this guy’s apartment complex. I search around in my bag for my money and take a second to “straighten” myself…I use quotations because trying to put myself together and look decent at this point was laughably useless. AND to make matters worse I had unknowingly sabotaaged myself….

3. Do not use a gym bag that has a razor in it as a multi-use bag you feel you can take straight to the beach and out…no matter how easy it makes   carrying all your crap.

Turns out those party cabs are crazy bumpy rides…bumpy enough to shake loose a razor head from one of those Venus re-usables. When I had reached into my bag to root around for my (loose) cash I had actually cut my hand in numerous places – HOWEVER, the combination of a day’s worth of alcohol, my focused sense of purpose, and the sharpness of a new blade left the cuts to go unnoticed…at least, by me…and one said Party Cab Driver. So I wiped away the mascara raccoon eyes, I fluffed my hair, I straightened my white linen pants and adjusted the cleavage. Basically there wasn’t one area of me that went untouched by that bloody hand. You can see where this is going…I blame the disco ball.  

4. Even if you arrive at a breakup in a party cab…do not send the cab driver away

So there I was – feelin’ good – feelin’ strong. “Yes Party Cab Driver, I’m serious, you can go. Look, this might take me awhile. I mean, he might start crying.” So Party Cab Driver slowly drove away down the street and I put my game face on and turned around to meet this guy on his steps and defeat and conquer. As you can imagine, he did not cry. In fact, he really didn’t say anything at all. Of course, little did I know he was probably waiting for the explanation of why I was covered in blood that was surely coming, right? I went on… and onnnn……… and onnnnnnnnn and at one point got very lost with my direction and looked him in the eyes and said, “I mean, don’t you have ANYTHING to say???”  Before he could answer I decided to really take control of the situation and said, “No – that’s it – I’m leaving. Don’t say ANYTHING. That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I want to be able to say you said. NOTHING you total f’ing asshat.” Finally I had my power back…and that’s when it happened…

5. Don’t, under ANY circumstances, EVER be the first to try leave the scene of a breakup*    

 *(if you’ve had too much to drink and are wearing heels on a curbed street)

The curb. I see that curb in my nightmares. As most of my friends (and aquaintances really) know, I’m no stranger to the pavement. But this fall was EPIC. It was like I was going in slow motion – you know when they slow everything down in a movie and even the sound is this never-ending, echoing booming cannon sound? That was this. It must have taken 15 minutes for me to touch down. The guy yelled, “oh my god – are you ok??” but did not make any move toward me to help me up – he either knew the wrath that would ensue if he offered, or he was really just that much of  a d-bag – – – oh, or he was afraid for his life because I looked like a cheetah that had just finished eating a zebra. Jury’s still out. 

The conversation is basically over. The buzz is long past. The party cab is gone. The confidence has made a swift retreat. I realize I am face down on the concrete. And I am alone. “I. AM. FIIIIINE.”  I hiss. I get up and brush myself off – stumbling a little when I realize I have definitely torn up both of my knees and they are staring at me through the holes in my linen pants. “Where are you going?” the guy yells at me. “I am GOOIIING HOME…” “… DON’T. SAY. ANYTHING. ELSE.” I actually say this. I pick up the tiniest shred of dignity anyone’s ever had and hobble to the apartment’s concierge. I am met with a look of sheer horror.

6. Don’t attempt to engage strangers in conversation after a breakup, in fact avoid seeing anyone else at all, if possible.

I should add – especially if you’re covered in blood. I still don’t realize it’s all over my face, hair, arm, shirt, etc. So I’m thinking “ggggaaaawwwd. I don’t NEED his overreaction to a skinned knee right now” and he’s thinking he’s going to have to call 9-1-1 because I either just got beaten or I caught and ate someone using my bare hands and a tiiiiiiiiny razor I keep conceled in my multi-purpose bag. I ask him to call a cab. He asks if he should call someone else. I roll my eyes. He looks super serious. I turn around completely frustrated and yell, “FINE! I’LL DO IT MYSELF” and limp out at a pathetic speed. Sometime in between walking out and dialing back the Party Cab I noticed that blood was seeping out of tons of tiny cuts on my hand and had dripped onto my sleeve and down my arm. The debacle was really starting to hit home. Cue Jamaican Party Cab Driver with his goddamn disco ball and 80’s Dance Party CD.   “Lady, you look a mess!”

Looking back on it I’ll actually always think of it as one of my BEST breakups because I have never laughed so much the day after a breakup in my LIFE. In fact, I’m still torn as to whether I should advise you to NOT do this – OR – to maybe try it out if you know things are a wreck anyway…maybe the one consolation of a ridiculously bad breakup is that if we have to be alone we know we can at least entertain ourselves with our outlandish actions. I don’t know what that means. But – like a bad idea after a day of drinking – let’s just go with it.


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