I Got Dumped

Like all self-respecting teenagers, the end of my first long term ‘take home and come out to the parents’ type of relationship was celebrated with alcohol, tears and the angst-ridden music, mine was Elliot Smith ... don’t make the same mistake I did! It was then followed by the walk of shame to University the next day, hiding under big sunglasses and the carefully-coiffed scene kid fringe, which finally came in handy for something other than annoying me in high-winds.

Whilst getting dumped for the first time at 19 is comparatively late, it had the benefit of being over the legal drinking age, meaning I could readily obliterate all memories of the previous two years through my good friend Jack Daniels. Co-incidentally, I cannot remember March through May very well. I assume it was filled with tears, wall punching and sobs of ‘but I loooove her’ and ‘soooo unfair!’.

The entire sordid affair, from the actual dumping to finding out she had gotten over me by getting under someone else the very same day (co incidentally, not the girl I had been dumped for), was done through text message, ain’t technology brilliant! The benefits of being a Hip Young Thing with MySpace soon became apparent; I switched my relationship status to ‘Single’ and retreated into my room with five seasons of Family Guy on DVD.

Dumped Via Text

I had gone where Cosmopolitan and its ilk could no longer help me. I have to admit, it is a guilty pleasure to read Cosmo occasionally, when you ignore the ‘dress to please your man’ ’10 hot tricks to try in bed TONIGHT!’ and ‘give blowjobs like a pro’ articles, there is a good three or four pages to flick through if you’re wishing to waste two minutes of your life you’ll never get back.

The funny thing is, I was no different from any of my other heartbroken friends, except for a girl who memorably decided to express her pain by bingeing not on Chocolate and Illicit Substances, but on Cherry Tomatoes! She woke up the next day with glowing skin rather than an acidic hangover.

Heterosexual Privilege didn’t exist, as I too got to walk the streets crying over assorted random objects, most memorably her favourite brand of cigarettes, stumbling into Uni Lectures puffy-eyed and hiding under my hair and, most notably, being too upset to eat anything substantial and un-intentionally looking like a paler and unfashionable Nicole Ritchie. What a fun month that was.

Instead of crying, I should have been celebrating the fact that, just like our Straight Sisters, we too could have people telling us that time heals all wounds; we too could have our older brothers threatening to fly from Scotland to Australia to beat the shit out of now ex-girlfriends.

However, since I also held the dubious title of ‘Token lesbian friend’, obviously I now also received ‘Token lesbian friend likely to break down at any moment’ and was handled with kid gloves. My friend’s reactions ranged from:

Genuinely Sweet ... I received a book of Nostradamus’ predictions to cheer me up, the inscription reading ‘it could be worse’, I got lot’s of handmade cupcakes, made specially to cheer me up too.

To the defensive ... promises to rearrange her face, kill her new girlfriend, firebomb her car etc.

To the downright insulting ... the only way to get over her, I was told, was to have sex with as many men as possible. Maybe all at once, I didn’t ask for details.

So, rather like going Skydiving just so you can say you have, I can officially say I have been dumped, and have the battle scars, and a much stronger liver to show from it. Enough time has passed, however, to go from avoiding each other to meeting awkwardly on Nights Out, thus meaning the relationship, as it were, enters a whole new phase of awkwardness. I can’t wait!

Have you ever been dumped? Did you end up friends? Are you still heartbroken? Share your story with the rest of us!

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