You love your ex very much. You know this because every time you think about her, you have a small, warm heart attack. But the terrible news is that your ex does not love you back. You know this because A) she broke up with you, and B) she said the following hurtful sentences to you:
- “I do not love you.”
- “When I think of you, I do not have small, warm heart attacks.”
- “My feelings toward you are entirely platonic, just like they are toward things like cups or a bench.”
- “All my frowns are dedicated to you.”
You call your ex. The phone rings for a while before she picks up.
“Hello,” she says. “This is your ex speaking.”
What do you want to say?
The word you said—“heph”—is not a real word. Try saying something else.
“Yes. The brutal sentences I said to clobber your feelings were:
- I do not love you.
- When I think of you, I do not have small, warm heart attacks.
- My feelings toward you are entirely platonic, just like they are toward things like cups or a bench.
- All my frowns are dedicated to you.”
“Yes, of course. Here they are:
- When we would hold hands, I would imagine that I was holding hands with notorious terrorist Khalid Sheikh Mohammed because that made it slightly more pleasant.
- The only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner is that I was enrolled in a government program that awards tax credits for spending time with people like you.
- You know that stage of carsickness when you become powerless to the gastric turmoil and it is 100 percent inevitable that you will disgorge? You don’t know when it will happen—five seconds? Five minutes? But you’re certain that it’s coming, and you’re just sitting there waiting in this horrible state of suspense? This is the exact sensation I feel whenever you are near me.
- When I look at your face, I believe in God less.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...”
You hear her exhale loudly.
“Why did you call me? Don’t you see that your weakness only gives me more power? Oh, little boy, don’t you know that I savor it? You need to get over me. Until you do, you will never be happy. Get over me, you pitiful ape.”
“...”
Those aren’t real words, either. Get it together—you’re blowing it!
“No, that is a lie. I am not your girlfriend. Please do not talk to me anymore. I am having a terrible time talking to you on the phone right now. Bye.”
You say bye, but she has already hung up the phone. Oof. Your heart feels like a birthday cake that has been thrown to the dirty ground and everyone is standing around pissing on it, and also this is happening at your dad’s funeral and the eulogy is being delivered by the villain Hellraiser.
Yes, good. Tears are the natural secretion. Continue to weep until you have depleted all the salt from your head.
That’s it. Good. This is a great activity for you.
Mmmm, yeah. Keep spraying out tears. It feels good to your face.
Keep going...keep going...
Annnnnd stop. You have mourned the death of your love bond, and now you must move on. It is time for you to begin the process of getting over your ex. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be fun, but it also won’t be easy or fun.
So, what do you say? Are you ready?
You cry and cry until your tear ducts are withered and parched, and even though there’s no more liquid to squeeze out, you keep crying nonetheless, to the point where your eyes begin to excrete brain tissue in ground-beef-like ribbons. Once you’ve cried out your entire brain, you gaze catatonically at the dimming world in front of you until you eventually lose consciousness and collapse sideways. Presumably, you die.
Great. Onward, glum dope!
There are many ways to move forward following a breakup, but it’s important that you choose what’s best for you. What would you like to do to get over your ex?
Memes give us emotional resolve. They extract the marrow of our innermost beliefs and fears and repackage it in a simple, digestible way that makes us nod our heads like “Yes...yes...yes.” Perhaps looking at some memes about relationships will give you the strength you need to move on from your ex.
This is an excellent meme that shows a ripped heart. Surely this is something you needed to see.
Yes! This meme absolutely nails it on the head.
It’s funny, but also so true.
Wow, these memes are making you feel better already!
THIS.
Whoa...deep.
This meme pulls no punches, and that’s what makes it so powerful.
Incredible—it’s like this meme is reading your mind. Seeing this gives you hope that you can move past your ex.
DEFINITELY bookmarking this meme.
The truth hurts, but as this meme proves, sometimes it’s necessary.
LOL, this is EXACTLY what it’s like.
Ouch. This “Inconsiderate Flower” meme is absolutely savage.
Wow...if only you’d seen this powerful meme when you were still with your ex, maybe things would’ve been different.
Damn. This is one seriously powerful meme. It really opens your eyes as to how your ex wronged you.
You have now looked at all the memes on the internet. What would you like to do now?
The memes moved you in unexpected and profound ways, so much so that it feels like you have been emotionally reborn. Your pain and anger have dissipated, and your past feels like it’s a million miles behind you.
But to gauge whether you are truly over your ex, you must first pass a test. When you look at this inkblot, what do you see?
A Thanksgiving turkey ripping its own legs off to cheer up a crying child? Wow. You’re really showing your cards on this one. Obviously, you are the crying child, while the turkey is a wishful projection of your girlfriend. In this fantasy you’ve created, she is willing to do whatever it takes—even rip off her own legs—to restore harmony with you and be in a relationship with you once again.
Clearly, the memes did not work. You’re still crazy for your ex. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Your ex seductively offering you two cordless phones? Well, doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that means. Obviously, your ex represents God, and the two cordless phones represent the Past and the Future. You’re torn over which phone to answer, as the Future offers you escape from your present sadness, but the Past offers you a chance to return to a happier time in your life—a time when you were still with your ex. Clearly, you haven’t completely moved on from her yet, otherwise you wouldn’t even be considering the phone from the Past.
Looks like the memes didn’t work. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Bob Costas smiling? Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that means. You’re thinking about Bob Costas because—duh!—he’s your ex’s dad.
You were dating Bob Costas’ daughter, and now you’re subconsciously projecting his smiling face onto things because it takes you back to happier times. Clearly, you’re still crazy for your ex!
Looks like the memes didn’t work. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Something innocuous with no subliminal connotations, eh? Not quite.
Take the first letters of each of those words and you get SIWNSC, an acronym for Self-Inflicted Wound Nursing Station Clerk. Now, remember how you met your ex? You were at the hospital due to a self-inflicted wound (you’d accidentally hacked your pinky off trying to cut a bagel with a spoon), and no one at the nursing station wanted to take the severed finger from you because it was covered in chocolate and fire ants from the car ride over. No one, that is, except for an exceptionally cute and compassionate clerk who kindly took the finger from you and persuaded you to stop screaming. It was love at first sight, and you asked her out right then and there as you bled out on the hospital floor. SIWNSC. Clearly, you’re still crazy for your ex.
Looks like the memes didn’t work. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Your ex sitting on a frog’s lap, eh? Sounds like the depraved wishful projections of someone who is still hopelessly infatuated with his ex.
Sorry, looks like the memes didn’t work. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Hmm...on one hand, it’s understandable where you’re coming from—the central shape of the inkblot, with its menacing white eyes, is certainly evocative of a cobra’s head. But on the other hand, what you apparently perceive as cocker spaniel heads dangling from either side of the cobra’s mouth seems far off the mark, as the canines’ ears are inarguably beagle-like in proportion. That’s an alarming distortion of reality on your behalf, indicative of someone who is in a state of profound emotional turmoil likely stemming from the recent separation from a loved one. Clearly, you’re still crazy for your ex.
Looks like the memes didn’t work. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Incorrect. Nothing about this image is suggestive of wrenches. For someone to arrive at such a conclusion, he’d need to be in a state of severe emotional turmoil likely stemming from a recent separation from a loved one. Clearly, you’re still crazy for your ex.
Looks like the memes didn’t work. You’re going to have to try something else.
What else would you like to do to try to get over your ex?
Yes, good. Your ex is all you can think about, and your sadness for her has taken over your life. Clearly, the only way to escape this cruel cycle of misery is to engage in various destructive behaviors and make the world bad for everyone around you.
How would you like to spiral out of control?
Oh, yeah, baby, it’s time to go off the rails with the rowdy motorcycle water called beer.
Yes! You are throwing back that beer like a real outlaw. Soon, you will forget that your ex even exists.
Wow, you are getting so drunk right now.
The beer is really starting to take over now. You are acting disorderly and rude as hell, running up and down the stairs and moving around all the cushions on the couch. You are clapping along to the rock-and-roll song “Bad To The Bone,” and the alcohol is making your penis hard and wide. Maybe you should slow down.
Hoo boy. You’ve had so much beer! This is shaping up to be a seriously legendary bender.
You should probably stop drinking, but you feel like you just need a little more beer to finally forget your ex and move on with your life.
Oh, no. You overdosed on beer and died. What a waste.
If it’s any consolation, by dying, you technically got over your ex. But there were better ways, kid. Damn.
You look around for the baddest, toughest group of delinquents in town and end up finding these guys. You can tell they’re really bad because they drive bulldozers for cars and seem radically opposed to all societal norms regarding having sleeves.
“No.”
Hmm, doesn’t seem like they want you to hang out with them.
“No.”
Seems like they really don’t want you to hang out with them. But maybe you just need to do something really tough first to prove you belong and earn their respect.
Despite your impressive and nails-tough gesture, they still don’t want you to hang out with them.
If you ever want to get over your ex, maybe you should find a different way to spiral out of control.
Well, the good news is that the tough guys thought it was very cool and impressive how you let a train murder you. The bad news is that you won’t be able to join their crew because, as a result of the train killing you, you are now dead.
But, hey, at least by being dead you are now technically over your ex. Good job!
Good thinking. By finding a new person to date, you can fill the ex-sized hole in your heart and move on with your life.
Where would you like to go to find a new girlfriend?
Okay. Where in your house would you like to go to find a new significant other?
You go to the kitchen. The only person there is your dad.
“Hi, Dad, will you date me?” you ask.
“Wish I could, pal,” he says, “but things are just really busy at work right now.”
“Okay, thanks anyway,” you say.
No luck in the kitchen. Where would you like to look next?
You go to the dining room. The only person there is your sister.
“Hi, sister, will you date me?” you ask.
“Whoa, hold your horses—are you always this forward with girls?” she replies. “If you want to date me, why don’t you trying wooing me first.”
Looks like she’s playing hard to get. What romantic thing would you like to say to woo your sister?
“That wasn’t romantic at all. Sorry, I don’t think I want to date you right now.”
Damn, so close. Oh well! Where else in the house would you like to look for someone to date?
You go to your bedroom and are surprised to find a beautiful woman in your bed.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” the woman says. “When I heard there was a sad man who cries a lot who lives here, I ripped off my clothes and came right over.”
“Tee hee hee,” she laughs. “You’re so funny! I love a man who can make me laugh—and even better if he looks like he’s been weeping and not bathing for days on end.”
You stand there quietly and blow your nose into the neck of your shirt.
“Say, a little birdie told me that you recently got out of a relationship and are looking for a new girlfriend to make your sadness go away. Is that true?”
“Mmm, that’s so sexy,” she moans. “Maybe I can help you meet those...needs.”
“Well, you won’t have to look far,” she whispers. “Because your new girlfriend is right here in this room.”
In this room? You like where this is going.
“Well, what if I told you that your new girlfriend is right here in this very room?” she whispers.
In this room? You like where this is going.
You look under your bed but find nothing except for the pants of the woman who is currently in your bed.
You look in your closet but don’t find a new girlfriend—just your clothes.
Hmm. No girlfriend here, either.
Yeah, nope. Nothing. Seems like the strange woman in your bed was lying to you. What a cruel thing to do to someone in your tender emotional state.
You look under your bed but find nothing except for the pants of the woman who is currently in your bed. Maybe you should look in your closet again to double-check that you didn’t miss anything.
Yeah, nope. Nothing. Seems like the strange woman in your bed was lying to you. What a cruel thing to do to someone in your tender emotional state.
“Playing hard to get, I see,” she says, smiling coyly. “That’s fine. Forbidden fruits always taste the sweetest—just don’t leave me waiting too long. See you soon, sad boy.”
The woman softly licks the side of your face before walking out the door.
Christ, what a weirdo. What was that all about?
You go to the living room and find your mom.
“Hi, Mom, will you date me?” you ask.
“Why, sure, sweetie,” your mom replies. “That would be lovely.”
Great news: You are now dating your mom.
You take your mom on a date to the fanciest restaurant in town, and you begin to realize that she is the perfect woman for you. She lives in the same house, she knows what kinds of snacks you like, she gets along well with your family—the pluses are endless.
But as your meal progresses, you start noticing lots of little things your mom does that, strangely, remind you of your ex. She uses a fork to eat her food, just like your ex. She smiles to express happiness, just like your ex. She has skin, just like your ex. She occasionally pops out her eye and tries to make you touch it, just like your ex.
It suddenly occurs to you that you’re still madly in love with your ex, and being with your mom only makes you miss her more. You realize that it’s not fair to bring that kind of baggage into a new relationship, and you decide that it’d be best if you broke up with your mom.
Your mom doesn’t take the news well. She sobs loudly at the table and keeps turning away to throw up into her purse. It occurs to you now that perhaps dating someone from your house was a bad idea. Maybe you should try looking for a girlfriend elsewhere.
You and your mom snuggle up on the couch in the den and begin watching a romantic movie. It’s very pleasant, and it slowly occurs to you that your mom might be the perfect woman for you. She lives in the same house, she knows what kinds of snacks you like, she gets along well with your family—the pluses are endless.
But as the movie progresses, you start noticing lots of little things your mom does that, strangely, remind you of your ex. She squeezes your arm during suspenseful parts of the movie, just like your ex would. She smiles to express happiness, just like your ex would. She has skin, just like your ex did.
It suddenly dawns on you that you’re still madly in love with your ex. You decide right then and there that you need to break up with your mom and try to win your ex back, but before you can do anything, you hear someone burst into the room behind you.
“Hey, asshole, what the hell do you think you’re doing with my wife?”
You turn around just in time to see your dad’s powerful, masculine fist as it smashes into your face, knocking you out cold. To be fair, you deserved it. After all, you tried to date another man’s wife under the roof of his own home—not cool.
If there’s any lesson to be learned in all of this, it’s probably that if you’re trying to get over a broken heart, you should try to avoid dating your mom, if possible.
You take your car out for a spin, and it just so happens that you find yourself driving past the home of the woman you were dating until recently. What a coincidence! Seeing as you’re in the neighborhood and all, you decide to park on the street in front of her house and just hang out for a while. Gotta hang somewhere, right?
While you’re chilling there, it occurs to you that, hey, maybe you’ll see your ex wandering in or out at some point. It might be sort of awkward since the two of you used to date and whatnot, but you wouldn’t be opposed to bumping into her. It’d just be two old friends randomly crossing paths—nothing wrong with that.
You keep chilling until nightfall. In the seven or eight hours you’ve been hanging out there, you still haven’t bumped into your ex, but it’s not like you were hoping to or anything. After all, you’re pretty much over her by now.
Still, kind of weird that you haven’t seen her yet. You feel like you should’ve seen her coming or going at some point. Hope everything’s okay.
You start your car and slowly drive past your ex’s house, carefully scrutinizing the premises for signs of danger. You look up at her bedroom window, and there appears to be a dude there.
Wait, what the fuck? Another dude already?
You continue chilling in front of your ex’s house until, suddenly, you hear a knocking on your car window. It’s a police officer.
“What’s going on here?” the officer says. “We’ve had a couple neighbors call saying you’ve been sitting out here all day acting weird.”
Well, that was dumb. You make it approximately 19 feet before the cop yanks you out of your car and arrests you for felony evasion.
Oh, you misguided dipshit. This isn’t how you get over your ex.
Good for you. That was a very mature and grown-up thing you just did when you decided not to react like a maniac. You are no longer dating your ex, and it shouldn’t bother you that she is almost certainly having intimacy right now with a man who has replaced you, even though you yourself have not yet found a replacement.
No, don’t let yourself be haunted by visions of the venereal merrymaking that is currently transpiring in the woman you love’s bedroom, the candle-laden scent of which you can still vividly recall. Don’t dwell on the way their faces are passionately mashing together—saliva issuing hither and yon—and be not dismayed by the thought of their erotically supercharged bodies flapping heedlessly against one another like newly caught marlin stacked two-high in a cooler. These are natural things, good things...and you are happy...and you are driving...and your vision is blurring all red-like because you are so pleased for your ex...and you’re not sure where the road is...his sculpted chest so superior to yours...where are you...how magnificent it is when two young lovers enjoy a robust carnal rapport...
You try to bribe the cop, but in the nervousness of the moment, you slip him your license and registration instead of cash. Fuck!
The cop looks at your license and nods his head knowingly.
“Your ex told us it was probably you sitting out here,” the cop says. “Word of advice, pal? Stop doing weirdo shit like this. Don’t be a lunatic. Breakups are hard, but this isn’t a healthy way to cope. You know what I do whenever I’m feeling lost? I just go get some chips. That always fixes things.”
“Thank you,” you mumble, unsure what else to say.
“Anyway, you’re free to go. But don’t come around here anymore or I’ll have to put you in cuffs, okay? Just go get some chips.”
The cop leans through the window, gives you a brisk, fatherly kiss on the forehead, and walks away.
After circling the block, you immediately return to your post. Yes, your ex already called the police on you for doing this exact thing, but you understand that in times of emotional turmoil, sometimes people express love in unusual ways. Like, didn’t van Gogh cut off his ear for a lover or something? And he was one of the all-time greats.
Actually, now that you think about it, maybe a similarly spectacular gesture would convince your ex that you are a man of great importance, and then she’ll come crawling back to you. Yes, of course! This is exactly what you need to do.
But what sort of spectacular gesture should you pull to win back her love?
Though it is absurdly painful, you carefully remove your own ribcage with a box cutter, incorporate it into a festive wreath, and nail it to your ex’s door. Then you ring the doorbell and run away.
Three minutes later, you get a phone call. It’s your ex.
“Did you hack your ribs out, glue them to a shitty wreath, and nail them to my front door?”
“Wow,” she says. “That’s the most thoughtful, romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me—it’s what you dream of when you’re a little girl.”
She momentarily pauses to gather her thoughts.
“You know, maybe I was wrong to break up with you. Not many guys will rip out their bones for you, and I think that maybe I took you for granted. Would you be willing to give me a second chance? Will you be my boyfriend again?”
Terrible news: You’re happily back together with the love of your life. You set out on this journey with the goal of getting over your ex, and unfortunately you totally blew it. This decision will haunt you for the rest of your wonderful, idyllic life as you grow old with the woman of your dreams. Pathetic.
Awesome! By refusing the guaranteed happiness of getting back together with the love of your life, you’ve demonstrated that you’re ready to live life on your own terms, utterly miserable and alone, no longer trudging in the shadows of relationships past.
Congratulations, you companionless chump: You have successfully gotten over your ex.
Boy, did that ever backfire. After unhinging your jaw and spending hours agonizingly contorting your body, you finally managed to swallow one of your legs as a grand romantic gesture to your ex. Unfortunately, when you showed your ex, she was utterly horrified.
Oh well. Hopefully it’ll be easier to get over your ex now that there is absolutely zero chance she will ever take you back.
Huh. You must’ve zoned out or something, because it looks like you drove your car into a lake. That’s weird.
But, uh, yeah. Good for your ex. Good for her. You are so, so happy...you have definitely moved on. Everything’s fine.
In the blind rage that followed seeing your ex’s new lover through her bedroom window, you decided to go set a school bus on fire. You’re, like, 80 percent sure no one was on it, though.
Hmm...maybe sitting outside your ex’s house in your car wasn’t the best strategy for getting over your ex. Maybe you should try something else.
How else would you like to try to get over your ex?
Here you are in the woods, the land of romance, where lovers come to fuck on the soil and write their names on trees with knives. If there’s anywhere you can find a new girlfriend, it’s here.
But before you begin searching the woods for a girlfriend, it’s recommended that you watch a video about how to be safe in the sensual territory called the woods.
The great tips and clues in this educational video will keep you safe and alert about the woods.
This is the Advanced Woods Safety video. Once you watch this, you are legally certified by the FBI as a Federal Woods Expert.
Where in the woods would you like to go find a girlfriend?
You trudge your way through the rough terrain for what seems like miles before finally encountering an abandoned, decrepit shed. It’s got that rustic, Pinterest-y charm that drives girls apeshit, and you’re confident that once you pry its splintered, bloodstained door open, you’ll find a new potential lover.
You enter the shed and—whoa, holy shit!—it’s Hollywood’s biggest star, Laura Dern.
Laura Dern keeps her gaze fixed straight ahead and says nothing.
Wow, it’d be incredible if you could get Laura Dern to be your new girlfriend—you’d get over your ex in no time! Chances like this don’t come around often, so you better make your move.
Laura Dern doesn’t say anything or break her gaze. Seems like she’s a little out of it.
Oh, fuck, what did you do?!? You poked Laura Dern with a stick and then her whole body crumbled away, leaving nothing but a pile of sand and a compass.
Holy fucking fuck! Don’t panic, but you seriously might’ve just killed Laura Dern.
You sprint heedlessly into the woods, trying to distance yourself from your heinous crime against America’s Favorite Leading Lady, Laura Dern. You run and run for as long as you’re physically able before finally coming to a stop. As you struggle to catch your breath, you realize that you have no idea where you are, and it’s beginning to get dark out. Damn. If only you’d stolen that compass, you’d probably be able to navigate your way to safety. But you didn’t, and now you’ve got to devise some sort of harebrained scheme to escape the woods if you want any hope of surviving.
Goddamnit. For some mind-boggling reason, you started digging a hole, and then you immediately got yourself stuck headfirst in it. Also, you killed Jurassic Park star Laura Dern.
There’s nobody around for miles; nobody’s gonna rescue you. This is your life now.
You dipshit! Badgers don’t communicate through clicks—they whistle! Grizzly bears are the animals that click, and now you’ve attracted this big boy, who’s gonna make a quick supper of you. Not only that, but you killed Enlightened star Laura Dern. Yikes. Getting over your ex is the least of your worries now.
You sprint heedlessly into the woods, trying to distance yourself from your heinous crime against America’s Favorite Leading Lady, Laura Dern. You run and run for as long as you’re physically able before finally coming to a stop. As you struggle to catch your breath, you realize that you have no idea where you are. Luckily, you stole that compass.
You take the compass out and locate northeast, which, as everyone knows, is the direction where girls are.
You start heading toward the place in the woods where there are hopefully girls. Unfortunately, it’s really foggy out, and you can’t see for shit.
Is that a girl over there? Nah, just a tall cat.
Christ, this fog is completely out of line. You can’t carry on like this. You have to figure out a method of making the fog go away, otherwise you’ll never be able to find a new girlfriend.
You blow as hard as you possibly can for 20 or 30 minutes, and sure enough, the fog eventually clears away. Suddenly, you can see everything clearly, and off in the distance you notice a mysterious human woman strolling among the trees.
Whoa. This is your big chance to get a new girlfriend. Play it smooth.
You strike a match and hold it up above your head, and sure enough, the fog instantly burns away into thin air. Suddenly, you can see everything clearly, and off in the distance you notice a mysterious human woman strolling among the trees.
Whoa. This is your big chance to get a new girlfriend. Play it smooth.
“Oh, hello, I didn’t realize anyone else was out here,” she says, smiling in the bashful manner of a mentally challenged man caught strangling a stray dog. “I’m Lisa. Sometimes I come out to these woods just to clear my mind and get in touch with nature. Other times I come out here to look for E.T. What brings you here?”
Goddammit, you chickened out and blew it. Good luck digging yourself out of this one.
“‘Rocks’?” she asks in the befuddled manner of a mentally challenged man learning what rocks are. “What do you mean by ‘rocks’?”
You idiot! How are you so bad at talking to girls?
“You eat rocks...well, if that’s what makes you happy, then good for you,” she says in the gentle, belittling manner of a social worker encouraging a mentally challenged man.
All right, perhaps there’s still hope that you can salvage this. Just say something normal, and maybe she’ll look past all the weird shit you just said.
You’re really going off the rails now. Panicked by your inability to make normal conversation with a woman, you reach down to the ground and begin stuffing rocks in your mouth. Lisa looks on in horror as you swallow clusters of 10 or 15 rocks at a time, loading up your stomach with anything and everything you can find in the dirt. Eventually, you choke, and then you faint, and then Lisa calls 911. Days later, when you wake from your coma, it occurs to you that maybe this wasn’t the best way to go about getting over your ex.
“Well...sure, why not,” she says, sealing the deal with a brisk handshake. “Normally I don’t date grief-stricken men who accost me in the woods, but something about you seems different.”
Yes! Great! Girlfriend! You!
Your relationship with Lisa gets off to a great start, and it distracts you from the sadness you feel about your ex. You love all the thoughtful little things Lisa does to make you happy, like not breaking your heart or making you want to kill yourself, and she loves being with a guy who doesn’t kill himself.
Things are really starting to look up for you!
Exactly four years after the day you first met, there’s a wedding. You and Lisa get married in a small yet lovely outdoor ceremony. During the first dance, Lisa nuzzles her chin on your shoulder and whispers something in your ear.
“You’re the only man I ever want to be with. Not even Ray Romano himself could steal my heart from you.”
You kiss her on the head but say nothing. As you continue dancing, your mind drifts to your ex. You hear she’s also married now, but you wonder if she ever still thinks of you. After sharing so many beautiful times together, how couldn’t she? Watching TV on your couch, watching TV on her couch, spending too much money on trendy food you both pretended to like—these are the memories that stay with you forever.
The first dance finishes and you excuse yourself to go to the restroom. You spend five minutes quietly sobbing in a bathroom stall while also taking an immense shit.
A week after the wedding, a card arrives in the mail with no return address.
“Congratulations. She’s a lucky girl.”
There’s no signature either, but the handwriting gives it away. Your ex could never figure out how to write an “o” correctly, and it looks like she still hasn’t.
You keep the card from your ex hidden beneath a loose floorboard in your bedroom closet, and for the next few years, you find yourself looking at it once or twice a month. Then, one day, you pull up the floorboard and discover that it’s gone. Maybe your wife found it and threw it away. You never ask.
Instead, you devote all your time and energy to caring for your first child, a little girl named Lorph (family name). Her first few years fly by, and before you know it, she’s larger and nearly as intelligent as most dogs. It’s hard to fathom how something so perfect and sweet could come from a pitiful coward like you. Lorph makes you so happy, and Lisa makes you so happy, and for the first time in nearly a decade, your ex is far from your thoughts.
Eighteen more years pass, and Lorph is graduating from college. She’s grown into a beautiful young woman—a spitting image of her mother—and you’re so proud of her for having made it all the way to adulthood without dying or going to jail.
During one of the more tedious parts of the commencement ceremony, you pull out your phone to catch up on the news. You learn that Bob Costas has died, and this makes you suddenly feel weird in a way that you haven’t felt in many years. Bob Costas was your ex’s dad, and she was always very close with him. She must be devastated.
That night, you stay at a hotel near campus. After Lisa falls asleep, you take out the hotel stationary and scrawl a quick note:
“Congratulations. You’re a lucky girl.”
You thought it would be sort of clever to write your ex a note that mirrored the one she sent you all those years ago, but now that you look at it, you realize that it might send the wrong message. You throw back a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels from the minibar and decide to give it another crack.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you always.”
You down another tiny bottle of Jack. You Google around until you find your ex’s address. You write it on an envelope, walk down to the hotel lobby, and mail the letter before you can second-guess yourself.
Back in the room, you can’t fall asleep, so you pull out your phone and read the news again. Looks like investigators have determined a cause of death: Bob Costas smiled so hard that his head exploded. Huh.
True to the cliché, life hurtles by with tremendous velocity. You become old, and so does Lisa, and your love for her grows richer and more profound by the day. She is truly the great joy of your life.
Lorph is married with children of her own. Their names are Kermus, Pringle, Pubelle, and Thirsty, and they often come visit you at home in your retirement and sing you songs.
One day, your kids are singing you a song about broth from their favorite cartoon, Broth Adventure, when, suddenly, you hear a loud thump from somewhere upstairs. You excuse yourself to investigate while the children continue to sing. After checking two other rooms, you walk into your bedroom and find Lisa unconscious on the hardwood floor, a rivulet of blood trickling out from her hair and across her forehead. The cheery refrain of the children’s broth ballad echoes from downstairs.
Lorph takes the kids, and you end up sitting alone in the hospital waiting room. For three maddening hours, no one comes out to give you any sort of word on her condition. When someone finally does, it’s a doctor you’ve never met who gives you a very frank and businesslike update, very little of which you process, except for the words “inoperable mass” and “temporal lobe.”
“I’m sorry that this happened,” the doctor says. “Please do not scream.”
Suddenly, you flash back 51 years to this very same hospital, where your ex said these exact same words to you the very first time you met. You’d gone to the emergency room after accidentally hacking your pinky off while trying to cut a bagel with a spoon. No one at the nursing station would take the severed finger from you because it was covered in chocolate and fire ants from the car ride over—no one, that is, except for an exceptionally cute and compassionate clerk who kindly took the finger from you and persuaded you to stop screaming. You were so moved by her kindness that you asked her out right then and there as you bled out on the hospital floor.
Five decades later, you wish that that same nursing clerk was here to comfort you.
It only took three weeks. Life moves fast, but death is so much quicker.
Lorph and the kids do their best to cheer you up, but it’s not much use. Without Lisa, there’s no you. Life as you know it exists only in your memory now, and at your age, you know it can’t be long until you lose that too.
In the months following the funeral, you begin taking long walks at a local park every morning. One day as you’re walking, you see a familiar face out of the corner of your eye. It’s your ex.
Sure, she’s much older now—her once taut skin now dangles limply off her face like dusty, melting cheese—but those eyes are unmistakably the same eyes that you’ve dreamed of countless times over the past half century.
You decide to go talk to her. How do you want to get her attention?
She looks your way and her eyes slowly light up with recognition.
“Is...is that who I think it is?” she asks, her voice now coarse and breathy, like the tailpipe on a dying car.
“It’s been so long...I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“That sucks very much,” she says, pulling a wedge of watermelon from her purse and taking a big, juicy bite. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She pauses to spit some seeds on the ground.
“My husband is dead too. He jumped too high next to a helicopter and the spinning blades cut his head off.”
“Listen,” she says, tucking the watermelon rind back in her purse, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you all those years ago. I was a real stinker and an asshole. I’ve thought about you often since we broke up, and I’ve come to realize that perhaps, well, leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life.”
Oh, damn, she’s really laying it on thick.
“I was in denial then, but over time I realized that I still loved you and that I’d never stopped loving you. And when I look into your eyes now, I must say, I am still very much in love with you.”
Whoa, not wasting any time with pleasantries, apparently.
“Maybe this is a little forward,” she begins, flirtatiously inching her foot forward and rubbing it against your white, pristine old-people walking shoes. “But seeing as how your wife is dead and my husband is dead, perhaps we could start seeing each other again.”
The question catches you off guard, and you don’t know how to respond. Just moments ago, you were walking around the park sad and alone, contemplating the endless sorrow of life without Lisa. Now, you suddenly have the chance to be with someone again, someone you once loved and longed for, who can now occupy some of the vast, harrowing emptiness in the center of your heart.
Yet this is the woman who wounded you. There was a time in your life when your greatest desire was to move past her, to escape the tentacular grip she held on your love. To go back to her almost feels like giving up, as if you’re just handing over the power you spent so long trying to reclaim.
So, what’s it gonna be, old-timer? Hump it or dump it?
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for over 50 years,” you say, before leaning in to kiss the arid, bristly lips that you will now be kissing for the remaining two or three years of your life—or so you think.
The stimulation from the kiss proves to be more than your exhausted elderly heart can handle, and you go into cardiac arrest. You lifelessly fall forward like a toppled redwood, pinning your ex beneath you. You jolt in place a couple of times, and then you die as your ex helplessly squeals and thrashes, trying to escape from under your corpse. Immediately, pigeons waddle over and begin pecking at your head. In Heaven, Lisa looks on and claps heartily, as it is a very funny scene to behold.
You were so close to getting over your ex, but then you gave into temptation and it killed you. Bad job.
“Sorry,” you say, looking off into the distance, “but I’m over you.”
Without another word, you walk away, looking resolutely ahead to the future while doing your best to ignore the sad old-lady whimpers behind you. It feels pretty fucking cool.
You finally did it. You moved past your ex. Way to go.
“Yes, I can see that.”
It’s silent for a few moments. She coughs powerfully into the sleeve of her blouse.
The weeks turn into months, and the months turn into years, and life with Lisa only gets sweeter and sweeter. But there’s a small part of you that still won’t let go of your ex. You wonder how she’s doing these days. Is she happy? Does she still have knees? Does she still do that thing where she uses electricity to power various devices and appliances in her home? You can’t help but wonder...
For some reason, you decide that going to get some chips will be a good way to get over your ex. Sure.
You put on your most dismal pair of sweatpants and wander over to the liquor store a couple blocks from your house.
You feel as if you have seen enough memes. Now, you must find out if the powerful messages they imparted were enough to get you over your ex.
Whoa, you are so woozy from all that beer. If you’d drank any more, you honestly probably would’ve died.
Unfortunately, you still can’t stop thinking about your ex. If you want to get over her, you’re gonna need to try something else.
Hmm, honestly, it doesn’t seem like you’re very good at spiraling out of control. If you want to get over your ex, maybe you should try something different.
“You are pungent with the perfume of grief.”
You’ve barely made it through the door of the liquor store when a strange little boy begins talking to you.
“Are you going to do a suicide?”
“A suicide is when a man makes too much disgrace and decides to push sword through his belly so he can go to Hell,” the boy explains. “This is what Uncle Arun did at dinner.”
You nervously look around, unsure what is happening.
“I am Ormul. We are friends now, yes?”
“Please, friend, tell Ormul why it is you have a sour frown.”
“Ormul will guess. It is because either you fell into the trash, a woman did a scorn to you, or you were frightened by a loud horse. Please, friend, tell Ormul which of these things has happened unto you.”
“It devastates Ormul to hear this. Ormul is sorry that this tragedy happened to you. Please, Ormul will pray for you now. Let us close our eyes.”
Ormul bows his head, closes his eyes, and begins muttering rapidly in a high-pitched voice. You can’t decipher what he’s saying, but it seems to be extremely earnest and heartfelt. At one point, you hear him choking back tears.
Sheesh. What the hell was that all about? Maybe going to get chips was a bad idea.
Try a different way to get over your ex.
“Friend, you should not be sad about girl. When girls do mean attacks on Ormul, like holding school binder high so Ormul cannot reach or scaring Ormul with picture of snake, Ormul knows deep down they are just jealous because Ormul has cleanest locker and knows how to do exclusive calculator tricks. So you see! This is all it is. There is no reason for you to gloom about girl.”
“Ormul assures you that you are not. Love is happy feeling, not sad. Love is the powerful buzzing in Ormul’s chest when Ormul sneaks into backyard to give goose biscuit treat and then goose bows for Ormul. Love is the exciting friendship that happens when two brothers roll ball back and forth and hum very low in same key.”
Christ, what the hell is this kid talking about?
“Oh. Ormul did not know.”
Ormul warmly yet solemnly pets your head.
“When friend is sad, Ormul is sad. Ormul must make you happy. Ormul will destroy your frown.”
“Here,” he says, thrusting a handful of coins up to your face. “Here is all of Ormul’s coins. Ormul was going to use it to buy Ormul’s very own plate, but it is friend’s coins now.”
You politely push the coins away, explaining to Ormul that money can’t make the kind of heartache you feel for your ex go away. Ormul nods slowly, trying to understand. Then, suddenly, his eyes light up with an idea.
“Friend, please, you will wait here for 10 minutes. Ormul has great surprise. You must wait.”
While Ormul is gone, you go survey the chip options. You spend a long time trying to make a decision, but it’s hard because all the chips sound kind of good. That’s the great thing about chips: They’re all pretty good. But that’s also what’s frustrating about chips, because there are so many good ones that settling on one can be overwhelming.
Ultimately, you don’t end up making a decision, as you’re interrupted by a familiar voice calling from behind.
“Hello, stud. Please, turn around to this way so that all your bad feelings may disappear.”
Jesus fucking Christ. You turn around to see that Ormul has dressed up like a girl for you.
“It is your new girlfriend, Gormul,” Ormul says. “Now you must not be sad, for Gormul will do all the things for friend that girlfriend does, like comb hair and bring ice and ward off nighttime eagle with clarinet. Please, come to Gormul so that we may touch palms!”
Welp, time to get the hell out of here. You may be lonely, but definitely not lonely enough for this.
Holy shit. That was too much. Maybe it’s time to find a different way to get over your ex.
“Very well, Ormul understands. But at the very least, you must take this.”
Ormul hands you a sweaty, wadded-up piece of paper.
“Good luck to you, friend. Ormul will be watching you and bringing you comfort in your dreams.”
You step outside and take a look at the letter Ormul gave you.
“Happiniss lies beyond the fog. Sincerly, Your eternal friend Ormul.”
Huh. You ball it up and toss it into the trash.
You’re still feeling really bad about your ex. You’ll need to try something else to get over her.