Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
Last week was a bummer, to say the least.
I broke up with my boyfriend, a dude who had been a close friend of mine for years. At the time it seemed like a great idea to date somebody I knew so well, but after five days and three "Jersey Shore"-style fights, we broke up via G-Chat one afternoon, like this:
Me: Hey. What’s up?
Him: Making some tea. I’m really not into this.
Me: Into what?
Him: Us dating.
When it comes to getting dumped, I value efficiency as much as the next person. While I’d hate to imagine time wasted struggling to find words to let me down easy, I’d also prefer not having the news delivered to me as some sort of knock-knock joke. I’m sensitive like that.
How I should have responded: Well you aren’t exactly my cup of tea, either.
How I responded: Emotionally.
The conversation was executed with a casual whateverness that I found infuriating but also strangely impressive. Whoever said breakin’ up is hard to do should talk to this guy -- a man determined not let my feelings, years of friendship, or it being the middle of a workday get in the way of us breaking up on the Internet.
And that was Monday. My week was off to a terrible start and only about to get worse.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Wednesday, an icy bitch if there ever was one -- cold, rainy, with deadlines for miles and meetings that just wouldn’t quit. By the time 12 o’clock rolled around, I had just one thing on my mind: lunch. I headed down to the office refrigerator to grab the slice of leftover pizza I had brought with me, but when I got there, it was nowhere to be found.
It should be noted that, where I work in Midtown Manhattan, a decent slice of pizza can be found without venturing further than a block in any direction. If you have a Seamless account, you don’t need to get off your ass at all. Pizza is the one food that could not possibly be easier to obtain around here, so stealing this lunch was more than a dick move. It was personal.
How I should have reacted: By getting another slice of pizza. (I just explained how easy it is to get pizza.)
How I reacted: Emotionally!
Denial and Isolation
I couldn’t believe it. I’d always thought the Lunch Thief was an office urban legend, but one of my co-workers had taken my pizza, and with it, my faith in fellow man.
Why me? Why my lunch, when there are so many other lunches right here? This wasn't a home-cooked meal or the remains of dinner from some four-star restaurant. It was one lonely slice of leftover pizza shoved into a to-go box, made only sadder by how much I was looking forward to eating it that afternoon. I wasn’t even going to microwave it.
God, I feel so alone.
WHAT THE FUCK? I REALLY WANTED TO EAT THAT.
If you replace “daughter” with “pizza” and imagine Liam Neeson with bangs, then pretty much this:
In terms of emotional damage, it occurred to me that I was feeling a greater sense of loss over the stolen pizza than my recently failed relationship.
To a well-adjusted adult I guess that sounds like my priorities are maybe a bit out of whack, but I believe that it makes perfect sense when you think about it. We’ve all been through breakups, right? At this point, I’ve done enough breaking up and being broken up with to understand that no matter how much it sucks at the time, it eventually won’t. Life will go on.
Boyfriends come and go, relationships don’t always last, but pizza is always good.
And that’s what made this so difficult.
My stomach growled. I couldn't concentrate. Pie charts seemed to be laughing me. I ate a stale bagel I found in a conference room, wondering what kind of sociopath would steal a person’s lunch.
I work in a small office where, for the most part, we all know and like each other. OR SO I THOUGHT. Could it have been a misunderstanding -- an honest mistake -- or was this some kind of sick power move? I looked around at my co-workers, each one of them now a suspect.
Stealing somebody’s lunch ranks among the most grievous interpersonal “office crimes,” higher even than bathroom defacing or microwaving something gross. I will find you, Pizza Thief, and when I do you will rue the day you stole food from someone with so much free time on their hands. Revenge, like the pizza that you took from me, will be served cold.
So what uneventful events have helped take your mind off of a breakup? What are your lamest breakup stories?