The Breakup Dump

Going through life, you experience lots of ups and downs. Some of the ups may be losing your virginity, your first car, graduating college (or high school for you underachievers out there), or getting married. Some of the downs may be losing your virginity to a fat chick, crashing your first car, getting kicked out of college (or high school for the severe underachievers out there), or a breaking up with someone when you thought things were great. After a break up, some might say, “you just need time.” Others might compare it to ripping off a band aid, and that it will just hurt for a short time. I like to compare it to a hot wing experience (don’t tell me you’re surprised).

It’s like this. You spend a long time searching for the perfect hot wing. See, many places have good hot wings, but there is always something about them that turns you off. Some places only serving celery and not carrots. One place annoys the crap out of you because of what they insist to have playing on the TV at all hours of the day. Some people, I mean places, might have a funky washroom smell and you can’t help but think about all of the people who have got all up in the inside of that stall. After a while, you think that you have tried all the wing joints and you’re never going to find your true match.

Then one day, it happens. You find a place that looks great, is warm and inviting and makes you want to…stay a while. You think it couldn’t get any better and you notice a sign that lets you order all drummettes or all wingettes for only a dollar extra. The washroom is spotless and smells great like it has never been touched. You are done with your meal but don’t want to leave and you find yourself always wanting to come back. But most importantly, you find a great hot wing.

So you keep this relationship going for a while, thinking it can only get better. Then one day, there’s a change in management. You don’t know why this could happen because things seem to have been going so well. The restaurant decides to start making new decisions. All of a sudden the washrooms go to shit, no more happy hour deals, and they insist on playing replays of World Cup matches. You think it couldn’t get any worse and then it gets worse. Their recipe has changed. The wings are dry and taste like you took a KFC wing and dumped Tabasco all over it. They cheap out on the ranch and it’s all runny. They decided to change to those crappy wings that actually look like wings, like they have at Hooters. Then it hits you. You need to break up with this bitch, I mean restaurant.

You decide the best thing to do is to make a clean break, because that’s what all your friends have told you in the past. You don’t even want to make eye contact with the person giving you the bill. You decide to pay cash because you don’t want to wait around to sign the credit card slip. You bolt out the door and make your way to the car and all of a sudden an instant sigh of relief. You laugh because for a minute you thought you were ready for a long term relationship when in actuality all you wanted was a quick fling. You start driving home and Hall and Oates, “You Make My Dreams,” comes on and you feel as happy as Richard Simmons. Because lets face it, that’s the happiest fuckin’ song in the world.

You get home and immediately start looking online to see places that you haven’t tried yet, or places you have been to that weren’t that good, but you just want to get a quick taste and get out. You know, a one time thing. You finally find a place and decide that you are going to venture out for a post breakup quickie. And then it happens. You’re stomach starts rumbling and you can’t get her out of your mind. Then it goes away and you think you’re alright to go out and meet another place. Then it starts rumbling again and you feel nauseated. You try and psych yourself out and tell yourself that you are better off. Then it happens, you run to the shitter and let go the most painful thing of your life. As you’re sitting there crying, from the heat of course because you’re too much of a man to cry over a past relationship, you start thinking that you were right when you first broke things off. That if she, I mean the new recipe, can make you feel this way, that you shouldn’t be together. Then by mid week you find that you’re over her. The rest of your week is great and by the time next Friday rolls around, you decide to get yourself out there and find another place.

So after reading that analogy that flowed as well as a post menopausal period, you’re probably wondering what the moral of the story is. Well here it is, lots of relationships are going to end in ways that make you feel so bad that you end up shitting fire, and there will be many more that do the same thing. The idea is to get yourself back out there. But when the time comes and your stomach starts rumbling, shit at your buddies place next door so you don’t stink up your own apartment.