Flash mobs — aka huge gatherings of people singing and dancing in unison with the purpose of expressing some intimate sentiment in a public, attention-grabbing way — pretty much jumped the shark when one appeared at the end of that Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis movie, “Friends With Benefits.” But flash mob breakups? Now that’s a twist I can get behind. Watch Sarah get her heart ripped out by boyfriend Alan’s jazz hands in this hilarious parody. [YouTube]
So, your relationship is coming to an end. You woke up one morning, rolled over and looked at the person next to you and felt nothing but anger, resentment, revulsion. You putter through your morning routine and start building the ammunition you need to finally get out of this relationship once and for all. The way they chew their cereal, once endearing and sweet, now makes you want to smack the bowl out of their hand. You’ve stopped agreeing on, well, everything and simply get through your time together by nodding in half-hearted agreement, only to see if it will get them to be quiet sooner so you can get back to the book you were reading or the very important text conversation you were having with your friend. You know you want to end things, but you don’t know how.
There’s never a right moment to break up with someone, but there’s always a right way to do it. Here are the best and worst ways to break up with someone. Keep reading »
For a period of time after I broke up with the man I’d been dating for four years, all I wore was black. I mourned the relationship by donning a widow’s wardrobe. Shapeless t-shirts, a wool sweater with a stretched out collar, an old pair of ballet slippers. I couldn’t imagine any other combination, besides black on top of more black.
I dressed like this for six months. Then one day, out of nowhere it seemed, an unexpected sartorial shift occurred: I reached for color again, but now, I suddenly wanted to put together outfits that can only be described as, well, “ugly.” Keep reading »
The first man I ever fell in love with was eight years older than me. He was on probation for stealing a video game, and his fingertips smelled like cigarettes and shellfish, having spent most evenings washing dishes at a seafood restaurant. At one point, he kept going to work even though his boss had stopped paying him. “Why don’t you start looking for a new job?” I asked.
“Cuz it’s fun just chillin’ with the boys, smoking cigarettes in the back,” he told me.
Jeff wouldn’t find another job for nine months, mostly because his unemployment allowed him to sit in front his PlayStation all afternoon. At age 26, he still lived with his dad, but couldn’t be bothered to sleep in the spare bedroom because all of his crap — a graveyard of sporting equipment he lost interest in and old surf tees — was piled so high, he couldn’t find the bed.
Instead, he slept on a makeshift bed-couch in the living room. It was here, with his father bumbling in to ask, “What’s going on?” that I lost my virginity. Keep reading »
It’s been six days since Scar Twin broke up with me.
Everything had been going well until one day last week, it all just … changed. In the beginning of the week, Scar Twin had warned me about his crazy work schedule and how he was going to be busy most nights preparing for the long weekend, so when his texts became scarce and his “just because” phone calls suddenly stopped, I tried to convince myself he was just stressed and busy. But after a couple days of short, lifeless text messages and no mention of getting together over Labor Day weekend, I started to worry that things had taken a bad turn. Keep reading »
It was October 2012. My Australian boyfriend and I had just been on a romantic, whirlwind adventure road trip around Europe. We spent the first month with his parents in Spain and France, and then spent the following month on our own. We zigzagged through Switzerland, Austria, a brief drive through Lichtenstein, Germany, and finally Belgium. We’d been living in London before our travels and this was to be our final trip before we relocated together to San Francisco.
The preceding months had been fraught with anxiety as the expiration dates on our visas approached. As is the the case in many international relationships, my boyfriend and I struggled how to proceed as a couple. San Francisco was my choice, but he was not quite ready to leave Europe. In Bruges, on the last day of our trip, we broke up. We were one day away from going back to London, saying our goodbyes and then going our separate ways to reunite a few months later. The impending separation felt like it spelled doom, and we suffered over what to do. Keep reading »