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The solitude of Montana seemed like the cure-all for him. A reprieve from a city that hadn’t quite chewed him up but had most certainly given him all he could handle. After two years here in Chicago, he was done. The girlfriend, the job which had seemed so secure a few months ago, it was all gone. The shared apartment was now being rented out to another couple who agreed to take over the lease. The job had been dissolved, and he had been forced to take a position with a startup that paid bupkis compared to what he was making previously. The furniture got divided, and he had to decide what to keep and what to throw away as he moved his belongings from a large two-bedroom to a studio near a cheaper part of town. I’m sure it was difficult. Five years together is going to take some time to forget about. Which is where I came in. His mom drove in last weekend to help him move his stuff to the new spot. I met them for drinks late Saturday.
“So what’s next?” I asked.
“I don’t really know man.”
His mom, sensing that her son was slightly annoyed by my question fired back. “What are you up these days, Duda?”
“Got a big move coming up.”
“You gonna be breaking any hearts doing that?”
“I highly doubt it,” I said as I stared a hole through the beer I had just gotten set in front of me.
That cliché about losing a friend once he gets a girlfriend has some truth to it. Sure, you’ll still see your friend from time to time, but it’s a watered down version who never gets too drunk. He doesn’t laugh at the same jokes. He’s a shell of his former self, kind of like the return of a superstar after a horrific ACL tear. Some people refer to this phenomenon as “maturation,” but I don’t really know what that word means. I’m kidding, sort of.
My college roommate has always been a good guy. He’s a prick, sure, but people liked him in a way that they never liked me. His douchiness was different from my personal brand of douche. When we met in college, we both had serious girlfriends. We bitched in the living room about the stupid shit that we had to do with them. And then I got my heart torn to shreds, moved to Washington, D.C. and he stayed with his girl. By the time we moved down to Chicago, I was single, lurking in the shadows of dimly lit bars and dating apps, waiting for bites on my line. He, on the other hand, was trapped. I talked with mutual friends, dreading the day we would all get a text in our group chat that read something like “Welp, I’m engaged, boys”. I never actually told him he was trapped, but I knew it, our friends knew it, and he knew it. When one of your friends is in a shit relationship with the devil incarnate, you can’t tell them anything.
“My girlfriends crazy? I deserved to get that vodka soda dumped on me. You just don’t know her.”
Rationality is thrown out the window when you’re in love. I think in the back of his mind he regretted signing the lease with her that he just recently broke. A last ditch effort at saving a sinking ship. It was never going to last. The bickering that went on in public and behind closed doors finally drove him to the only option he had: break up. I’ve never broken up with a girl I was involved with seriously. I’ve told girls we should stop hooking up, but I’m usually the dumpee, so I don’t really know what it’s like to break up with someone you care about. I imagine it blows dogs for quarters, but it can’t be as bad for the person that’s ending things. I’m sure a wave of relief washes over that person. It’s good to have my single friend back again, and I’m pretty stoked for the next couple weeks. He’s going to get thrown into the fire this weekend. For him, after five years in a relationship, talking to a girl is going to be like riding a bike for the first time. Last night I texted him a YouTube link to a song that’s been of assistance to me in the past. It’s a song by Teddy Pendergrass called “Love TKO”, and I think it’s a perfect summation of what a breakup is:
“But another fight
Things ain’t right
I’m losin’ again
Think I’d better let it go
Looks like another love TKO.” .
Image via YouTube
Respond
jduda@grandex.co
Great read. I went through a temporary breakup with my current girlfriend senior year and when I broke down to an old fraternity brother, he iced my ass. That’s what friends are for.
Alcohol. Solving problems since forever.
“Alcohol, the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.” – Homer Simpson
99% of the time alcohol is the right choice for any major life moment, good or bad.
Johnny did you take a job with Grandex? Your tweet about a roommate in Austin and now having a “big move”
If so, PGP is cornering the market on mediocre to decent looking white guys with an unearned sense of arrogance hiding surprising depth and understanding of people.
I can’t tell if this is complimentary or offensive.
I think it’s just a summary of about 80% of guys who were in fraternities in college.
Also what he said.
If someone said this about me, I’d be incredibly flattered. Not sure what that says about me though.
A little of both, but I’d say at least 75% complimentary. At least I hope so, because that’s how my ex described me.
Or they really like how much traffic The Chase has brought to this site.
No, he actually committed to play QB for Texas, because Chuck Strong is that desperate. He read the title of “The Chase” and thought that meant he had great scrambling ability.
I’ve found in this situation when you take him out, if you spot a cute girl or two, maybe offer them a drink to just chat with him for a few minutes. Most will help out especially if you explain the situation and he’s not overly creepy. Your friend may get the wrong impression from it, but I think it’s the best set of training wheels he can get at a time like this.
I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve never thought of this, but it seems like a great idea. Thank you.
By far the best breakup remedy I’ve ever seen was done to me my junior year of college. My buddy saw that I was hurting so he got a couple of my fraternity brothers together and we all went drinking in the mountains. I wouldn’t call it camping because we got drunk before we even unloaded the truck. No cell phone service, no nagging or feeling sorry for me, two 30 racks of shitty beer, a few Colorado cigars (joints), a million hilarious bull shit stories, a little bit of fireball flavored throw up at the end, and a shitty sleeping bag got me cured.
This is what Finn will be doing for Todd after he gets dumped for having the weekend of his life at the Kentucky Derby.
Something tells me Claire would be doing more of the “soothing” than Finn.
Tell him to get into the cocaine scene and get some really douchey tattoos. You know, the ones that shout out his national heritage and his religious beliefs, can’t forget the word he can’t figure out written in Manderin. Your buddy will find himself some kind of woman in no time.
So is Johnny D just a full PGP employee now like Will? He is putting out a lot of content for a remote contributor.
TIL Cherub stole the “Just another love TKO” line from them for “Freaky Me, Freaky You.”
What do you do when you have a friend whose in the “dude I deserved to have that vodka soda thrown at me” part? Nobody I know likes this chick but my boy loves her and she’s bat shit crazy
My best friend (and roommate at the time) was going through this a couple years ago. Sat him down one night and just told him the girl was a bitch. He talked me into giving her one more chance, but about 3 months later they broke up. He still thanks me for that talk.
I’ll never forget the day my college girlfriend and I broke up. Yeah, having your heart ripped out is pretty memorable, but the reason I won’t forget it is because my best buddy was there with a bottle of Evan Williams, a shoulder to lean on, and a ride to the bar to find the blonde that would truly ease the pain.