Sex, Lies, and Breaking it Off

Seriously, how awkward is the break-up convo? In the words of 90s one-hit-wonder Nada Surf, “even if you’ve gone together for only a short time, and haven’t been too serious, there’s still a feeling of rejection when someone says she prefers the company of others to your exclusive company.”

Sometimes, I think finding out that your mate has cheated is a blessing in disguise, because you can sidestep the entire “this isn’t working” discussion and end things in an explosive fight instead. Of course, for those of us who just had to choose nice, faithful boys, it can be hard to let the poor guy down. So, we make up excuses. Sometimes we even lie.

If you don’t think your man can handle the truth (“You’re obviously not going to get any better at foreplay,” “If I have to waste one more Sunday watching football with you and your frat boy buddies, I’m going to slit my own throat,” or, simply, “I can’t wait to bang Johnny from Journalism class, as soon as I get out of these shackles,”) you may want to/be forced to fabricate a reason for ending your exclusive relationship.

Junior year of college, I was in a dead end relationship. I had chased my boyfriend, and won, and within six months, I was bored. I tried so hard to instigate a blow-up, but it never worked. Instead of the ever-dramatic, uber-conclusive “Get out!”/ doorslam combo, my ex started crying and pacing around the halls of my dorm room, where a concerned RA took pity on him and returned him to my doorstep.

I considered a plethora of lies to catapult me back into the singles scene. “It’s not you, it’s me” is too generic an excuse, and when I tried to play that card, the guy started promising to change. I tried to use money as an excuse, arguing that I needed to pick up more shifts at work and spend less money on nights out. That one blew up in my face, since we worked together, and he thought that more work for me would also mean more time we could spend together; he also suggested saving money by staying in and watching movies. By this point, cuddling with him was making my skin crawl, but of course, I bit my tongue and sat through Quentin Tarantino’s Four Rooms. Since he was a pothead, I considered using narcotics as an excuse, but, as a partier myself, I would sound hypocritical, unless I vowed to cut booze out of my life.

How was I ever going to end this one?

Truth be told, it took an ambulance ride and a percocet prescription to get back into the singles scene. I kid you not.

My blessing-in-disguise came in the form of a dislocated knee. I had to take a leave of absence from my waitressing job, where my ex was a cook. Bonus: no awkward post-break-up interaction! I ignored the guy for a couple of days, and then told him that since I was incapacitated, I thought it would be too difficult to continue with the relationship. He was working full-time, after all, and I had to hobble around campus on crutches and crash, exhausted, at the end of the day.

I pretended I was more upset than I really was and said I was going to throw myself into my schoolwork for the rest of the semester. In reality, I was at the bar most nights, crutches and all. But at least I was single at the bar on crutches. It is sad that it took bodily harm to end my relationship, but sometimes there are no other options.

Am I alone on this one? Anyone else ever have some ridiculous story to get out of a relationship?