My coworkers are always bragging about their dramatic breakup stories. My own is so pathetic. For me, relationships usually ends with a "it's not you, it's me" type of deal. Very civilized. So, do you have an awesome breakup story? Preferably with nudity, betrayal, and ninjas.
Kind of a breakup story: one of my ex-bosses threw a Martini in the face of his advisor and walked away from a PhD in Philosophy of Math.
My girlfriend (Marilyn) and I weren't doing so well. She blew me off at some party to go get high with her friends, which pissed me off, so I took home some freshman girl who was in my spanish class. In the morning, the freshman (April) wakes me up and asks me where the bathroom is (I lived in a fraternity house)...I gave her directions and handed her my sweats and one my my flannels, then cozied up back into my bed. I heard her get dressed, then the door opened and she walked out. I figured I dozed off bc it seemed like a second later the door opened again. I hear her messing around with her clothes on the floor, walking over to the bed... ....and then suddenly the sheets get pulled back and Marilyn is there, shoving April's underwear in my face and screaming. When April comes in a minute later, Marilyn started screaming at her as well. Luckily the guys in the room next door took time from laughing to move April outta harm's way. At that point I said to Marilyn, "I dont think this is going to work" Good times.
LOL... that is great.. my ex demanded our impromptu 'video' before we broke up.. lucky i made a copy of it..
i was dating this one girl for 2 weeks, but it wasn't really goin anywhere and both of us kinda knew that. so i was checkin out another girl, kinda, but not really - until she started bein aggressive with me. anyways, me and girl 2 ended up in the back of my truck chillin (camping) when it got to the time where we wanted to do stuff, but i couldn't cheat on the other - so i phoned the other one up - told her i was breaking up with her, she said okay with little argument - i went along with girl 2 (which i never ended up dating, just had a little fling).
This is on the longish side, sorry. It's something I wrote last week anyways for the heck of it . . . but it seems to be on target. Honesty is the Best Policy by That Guy I ordered two beers. Guinness. I was glad it was Guinness. The slow pour gave me a little extra time to think. One of the beers was for my girlfriend, Karen, and when those pint glasses filled up, I would have to tell Karen one of four things: 1) Tell her that I cheated on her, but beg for forgiveness, try and work it out; or 2) Tell her that I cheated on her, so we should break up right away; 3) Tell her that we should break up, but don’t tell her about the cheating; 4) Tell her that her new scarf is lovely. Options 1, 2, 3, 4—I had debated them for 36 straight hours without sleeping. Now, seconds away from go-time, I still didn’t have a clue. “Need cash?” she said from the corner booth. We were the only ones in the bar. She had shimmied out of her parka and was peeling the gloves off her hands, playfully, one finger at a time. I shook my head. I paid for the beers and picked them up, staring at them, careful not to spill. The glasses felt cold. When I looked up at Karen I almost dropped them—her face was frozen in one of our “dork faces,” eyeballs screwed up and mouth twisted in confused rage. It was a game we’ve played since we started dating (three months ago, kinda serious—exclusive, yes, but neither of us have said “I l^%e you.”, not even during sex); the object is to catch the other person completely off guard with the ugliest face imaginable. “Got me.” I forced a smile. She laughed so hard she almost snorted. This was my first time dealing with cheating—a treachery I swore that I would never, never, never commit. It was not, however, my first time breaking a girl’s heart. That would be Sarah. The only serious girlfriend I ever had, Sarah and I were platonic-best-friends for 8 years (since junior high) and then dated for three. Sarah scored a 1570 on her SATs and got mistaken for Brooke Burke—the only mistake she ever made in her life, big or small, was falling in love with a C+ like me. Everyone thought we’d get married. Except me. I guyed-out and broke up with her, she moved to LA to become Mel Gibson’s attorney, and we’ve barely spoken in two years. In that time, we’ve gone from open hostility to awkward-sorta-friends. So Sarah and I have a history. Which is why, when I visited Texas for my 10-year high-school reunion, it probably wasn’t such a hot idea to get drunk with her. It probably wasn’t the best idea join her at her dad’s place for an “impromptu pool party.” Or to slam down shots of tequila-koolaid. Or to sit next to her in the hot tub, our bare legs pressed together. Or to lose the koolaid and switch to tequila, licking the salt and lime off each other’s wrists. Then things get blurry. But I know that we made it to her father’s guest room. I know that we were shivering in our wet bathing suits, that we slipped under the covers “for warmth.” And I know that her father (who already hated me, whom I haven’t seen in three years) walked in on us while I was going down on her. I didn’t dare look over at him, so I kept my face buried in his daughter’s crotch. That was 36 hours ago. Since then, the demons wouldn’t let me sleep. I’m normally the idiot who returns to the grocery store if given too much change, so this was something of a personal-integrity death blow. On the plane back to New York, I started the great debate, Tell vs. Lie: Tell: You have to. It’s the only honest thing. Lie: That’s selfish. You’re unburdening your guilt and hurting the other person. Tell: If you were in her shoes, you would want to know. Lie: Maybe. But sometimes what you want isn’t what’s best for the relationship. Tell: You need to trust the other person to handle it like an adult. By keeping it from her, you show a lack of respect, even moreso than the cheating. Lie: [Sigh.] My lord you’re a hypocrite. Last night you’re boning another girl and now you’re “showing respect?” Look. You’ve already made one mistake. Don’t make a second by poisoning the relationship. Tell: No, the true poison comes from keeping that secret, from letting it consume your thoughts. Lie: The pain would devastate her. All to ease your own conscience? Prick. Tell: Hold up, you already covered that in your first point. And besides, imagine if she were ever to find out, sometime down the road. The consequences would be cataclysmic. . . . and so on. I take a sip from the Guinness. Then I guzzle half the glass in one long swig. “Karen, I have to tell you something.” “Okay.” What do I tell her? That we’re through? It felt like someone was squeezing my bellybutton with pliers. “In Houston, I did something stupid. Really stupid” And then I told her. “Hooked up.” She stared at me, her face blank. “Did you have sex with her?” I closed my eyes. “Yes.” She grabbed my hand with both of hers. “I’m hurt. And I’m upset. But I forgive you. We’ll work through this.” Work through this? Is that what I wanted? I just rolled with it. I nod my head. I tell her how sorry I am. And I can’t believe I’ve become that guy. That as$hole. She’s quiet. Then she said, more slowly now, “So you have sex with her?” I nod. “Did you use a condom?” Uh oh. The only alleviating factor—and it’s flimsy—is the excessive alcohol. I was piss-drunk. If I pretend that I magically procured a condom, the whole thing would seem pre-determined. Then again, Karen and I had always used a condom. (In fact, since I’ve known her my whole life and know her history, Sarah was the only girl I ever had unprotected sex with). Which answer will hurt less? Wait, but we’re talking about safe sex here, lying to her is more than a breach of ethics, it could be life or death. She has to know the truth. I say it fast and I slur my words. “No, we didn’t use a condom.” “Did you come in her?” Oh, God. Now I’m so far down the Tell path that I don’t know what else to say. But she looked at me and she knew. And that did it. She started crying. She didn’t stop. The sobs filled the empty bar. We got up to leave and walked to my apartment together. But she didn’t lash out. She didn’t go away. In between sniffles, sometimes she would say, “You as&hole.” and then sometimes she would sort of hug me. And then sometimes she just cried. “But we’ll work through this.” The more she said that we’ll work through this, the more I realized that it probably wouldn’t work, and that it wasn’t fair to her to work through this. But she was devastated, devastated, and I did all I could to say something, anything, to make things right again. “I just want you to fight for me,” she said in a whisper. “Fight for me.” What did that mean? I still don’t know. But for hours we talked and talked, and she kept coming back to the line, “I just want you to fight for me.” Okay, I realized. If I’m going to fight for her, then it might as well start now. I would fight for her. I could never take back the cheating, but right now, right here, she needed me to fight for her, and by God I would fight for her. We were lying in my bed under the covers. “Karen,” I said. “I . . .I love you,” And in that moment I did. I meant it. I did, I really did. I think. Maybe. She smiled. And then she cried some more. But she kept smiling. “That makes me so happy.” She kissed me and pressed both hands on my face, squeezed my cheeks like my grandma. “I’m just so happy you said that. Maybe something good came out of this.” All night we talked and she cried, we spooned and held each other in the darkness. She told me she loved me again and again. The next day we went to Atlantic City together, a trip we had planned for weeks. Sometimes on the bus she cried. As we walked along the boardwalk she gripped my bicep, hard, with both of her hands. As I was eating cheese-fries I realized that no, no, of course I didn’t love her. What the hell was I thinking? I had already made two mistakes: the cheating; the telling I loved her. Should I now make a third, acting out a relationship that I don't believe in? The next day I broke up with her. She thumped her hand on her chest, saying, “It hurts. It hurts. My God it hurts. I feel like I’m going to die.” So I swore off dating. I grew a beard. I fleetingly thought of castration. Better to be single than the cause of so much pain. But am I through? Have I learned? As I’m typing this I’m sitting across from Karen, at a coffee shop. She just gave me a dork-face, the first one in months. Like another girl, we’re through with our open-hostility phase and are now awkward-sorta-friends.
are you for real?? this story is funny!! first of all, the way you tell stories cracks me up. even tho you felt guilty and all...i'm sure it's giving a couple of us something to laught abt. good luck with this girl!
Wow. I have never thought about any girl's feelings this much. I would've bought the cheese fries, and dumped her. There's something humorous about dumping someone mid-meal, and then continuing to eat. Then, to really stir the pot, you sing the chorus of George Strait's song "Easy Come, Easy Go". Just insert one line to her b****ing. For example: "You're such an ass!" " Goodbye... Farewell" "I hate you!" "So Long... Vaya Con Dios" "I Cheated on you!" "Good Luck... Wish you well" "I never want to see you ugly face again!" "Take it Slow... Easy Come Girl, Easy Go" (Prompting girl to slap you and leave)
My father was the Daimyo of Houston and my family stood in the way of the Daimyo of San Antonio quest to become Shogun of Texas. When I was 18 I was secretly dating a daughter of a family that had great influence with the Daimyo of Dallas. Unbeknowest to me one of my trusted attendants had betrayed our love to the Daimyo of San Antonio. One night at a retreat in Galveston the Daimyo of San Antonio sent ninjas to capture my paramour. I was asleep naked with the girl when the ninjas attacked and being unarmed could not stop the ninjas from capturing the girl. With the girl hidden away the Daimyo of San Antonio told the Daimyo of Dallas that my family had kidnapped her angering the Daimyo of Dallas. With the fate of my family at stake I publicly denied the illicit relationship and then renounced the girl. When the Daimyo of San Antonio told her she had been renounced she killed herself out of shame. Even with the renouncement the Daimyo of Dallas was infuriated and joined with the Daimyo of San Antonio to destroy my family. Our samurai fougth bravely but were defeated on the plain of Nacadoches and our women were stripped naked and cast out. Gathering up the last remnant of our samurai I fled far north to the barbarian kingdom of Minnesota awaiting the day to take vengeance on our enemies. That what you were looking for?
Back in my freshman year of college, a buddy of mine had a pretty good one. He and his girlfriend had met up at his place to exchange Christmas gifts. His parents were away, so right after exchanging gifts, they pretty much hop into bed and start going at it. Literally right there in bed, naked, IMMEDIATELY after exchanging gifts, she says, "I think we need to break up." WHAT?!?
