Dumping Emma: A story of male cowardice. Part Three.

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Welcome back to Dumping Emma. This third installment will go over what people other than me have to say about the situation. The situation being, for those of you just joining our broadcast, that I’m planning on breaking up with Emma, my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

Or should that be soon to be ex-fiancé?

You see, loyal readers, before I delve into some choice quotes from people who are watching this whole unholy scenario unravel in front of eyes that aren’t attached to my head, I have a little story. Now, don’t judge me before you read it, because I can’t be entirely to blame here. Sometimes a man is backed into a corner and all he can do is lash out with certain words, like “Will you marry me?”

What I’m trying to say is, somehow I’ve gone one step forward, two steps back with this whole dumping Emma thing. Now she thinks that, far from breaking up, we’re actually going to get married. I admit I’m partially to blame in that area, what with asking for her hand in holy matrimony, but I insist it wasn’t just my fault. I mean, just imagine those doe-eyes batting their lids at you, those full lips pursed and those ankles just waiting to be stripped of their bobby socks. Do you have any idea what that can do to a man? I work so hard, don’t you understand, making maple syrup for the pancakes of our land?

So, with that in mind, yeah, I bit hard, took the plunge and swallowed more salt-water than I could chew. As a result my girlfriend is now my fiancé and I’m a little behind schedule in the whole breaking-up stakes. Still, it’s good that she’s momentarily happy before I tear her world apart. I’m nice like that.

Anyway, I did promise I’d let you into my inner circle and share some of the thoughts that have left mouths and flown my way regarding this situation. Can I just say, at the outset, that I’m a little disappointed at how my close mates are taking this? After all, I did initially start this project to prove something to them. Not entirely sure what that is anymore.

My friend Bobbo was astounded that Emma hasn’t found out about this blog and that I’m committing emotional and relationship suicide by exposing every detail of my proposed break-up. To that I say, der. Of course I’m committing relationship suicide. That’s the point. But I have to agree with Bobbo in that I too am surprised that Emma hasn’t found this blog. After all, she does have a degree in computer science, or something. Surely she could find it.

Actually, I’m a little disappointed that she hasn’t found it. After all, it would save me a heck of a lot of work if she just knew what was coming and confronted me early. Boy, would that save me some confronting of my own.

Another friend, who we’ll call Mudshark, following on in a similar vein from Bobbo, commented that not only have I been keeping a blog about my dumping plan, but I’ve also been mentioning it to every person I happen to meet, friend and stranger alike. He, like Bobbo, cannot believe it has not somehow gotten back to Emma through the grapevine. To that I can only say, meh. Maybe she doesn’t get out much. Or she just doesn’t like grapes.

Finally, two lovely anonymous commenters on this blog, both by the name of Anonymous (which is quite a coincidence when you think about it) exchanged some words with me regarding my supposed mistreatment of Emma.

To wit:
“What a joke! If you ever had a relationship in the first place, it shouldn't be hard to get her to your house, or you go to hers and tell her the reasons why.

What a drama queen you are.”

True. It wouldn’t be hard to get her to my house, but since my house is absolutely chock-a-block full of pictures of myself, when she ran out of my place screaming, she’d be running through hallway after hallway of framed portraits of yours truly, in a constant reminder of all she’s lost. Call me sentimental or a drama queen, but I just couldn’t do that to her.

Also:
“as if she's not good enough for you. Take what you can get buddy.”

Thank you for your consideration, but you really give her too much credit. I’m quite right in saying she’s not good enough for me. I do and will take what I can get, and it’s quite a higher standard than my new fiancé Emma.

And with that, he’s gone. Until next time, folks.

"

Dumping Emma: A story of male cowardice. Part Two.

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Right. So, I'm past all the preliminary stages of preparing to dump my 'girlfriend' Emma and now I'm up to the nitty gritty: the method. It's harder than you might think, coming up with a game-plan for dumping someone. You have to take into account all kinds of things, like where the best place to avoid a scene is, what time of day it is, what day of the week, and whether or not it should be done in person. Dumping's a tough business.

The first question I need to ask myself is, do I do the deed in person or not? Thinking about it, dumping someone over the phone - or better, SMS - has a privacy and intimacy that might not be found in an 'in-person' break-up. Then again, privacy and intimacy might not be the right emotions to project when telling someone they essentially aren't good enough for you anymore. Also, there's the possibility that Emma's anger at actually being dumped over a phone, fax or email will be worse than anything I would have to endure during an in-person dumping. After all, in-person I'll get the "Well, at least you had the guts to do this in person" speech (through tears if I'm lucky), which gets me some last-grasp brownie points.

So, given the above, I think breaking up with Emma in person is probably the best plan. God, it will be stressful though. Why can't those Jim's Mowing guys have a Jim's Dumping service where you can just delegate your emotional responsibilities. Something to work on in the future, perhaps.

Anyway, since I'm going to be breaking Emma's little heart with my face firmly to face with hers, the next question to be answered is, where should this dumping be done? I've actually given this one a bit of thought and I've already ruled out doing it at my house, since if she goes mental I don't want my stuff getting thrown around and broken. There's some new things in my room I wouldn't want hurled at me in a fit of rage, you know? Similarly, if I do it at her place, her loud wails and tears will surely arouse the suspicion of other people in the house, making my speedy exit very awkward as her family watch me every step of the way, from Emma's heart to their front door and beyond.

All this leads me to think that the best place for the dumping is a third venue, like a restaurant. Let's say I take her out for dinner and at sometime during the meal, subtlely slip in that this is the end. The question then, of course, is which course should the dumping occur in? I tend to think dessert, since it's nice to have something sweet in your mouth when there's sour news to be heard. Still, there's something to be said for a main-course break. Suggestions, anyone?

Most importantly, what eatery would be best for this type of thing? It has come to my attention that a classy restaurant is the best bet, since a woman is unlikely to make a scene if there are posh people in nice clothes and sipping expensive wine around. Trouble is, what counts as classy these days? Obviously, McDonald's is out (though, this DeliChoice stuff has gotten them a more urbane clientele, I notice) but what about La Porchetta? Too cheesy?

Smorgy's seems to be the intermediate, no? I'll mull over this a bit more, but I think my plan of action is taking form. The dumping shall occur at a restaurant somewhat resembling Smorgy's at sometime soon-ish.

Finally, I'd like to address something here. Dump is such a harsh word and I'd prefer not to use it. I mean, it’s not like I’m leaving her in the lurch without any hope. I mean, if I do it in a public place there will be heaps of other guys around she can perve on after I’ve told her she’s dropped. I’m a pretty considerate guy like that.

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Dumping Emma: A story of male cowardice. Part One.

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Well, I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Chris and I’ve set up this blog as a document of this period of my life, which is, at the moment, characterized by my plan to dump my girlfriend Emma. Consider this a ‘legacy document’ for the relationship of Chris and Emma (and its ultimate downfall). In years to come, I can look back on this and go ‘that was me, then. Wasn’t it?’

I’ll be talking about the reasons why I’ve come to this conclusion and give insight into this period of my life so that in years to come…oh, I already said that, didn’t I? Emma and I have been together for close on fourteen months, which is a record for both of us. So, no matter what happens, we’ve always got that

Anyway, it all began last weekend. I was at a mate’s house, pissing up; and I was going on a bit, complaining about Emma, when Clarky piped up with “Well, why don’t you dump the slut then?” The thought had never occurred to me before, though I did point out to Clarky that ‘that slut has a name’ before considering his proposition. (Though, just quietly, I must admit, remembering that slut’s name after 25 beers was a bit of a task)

Before I had much time to consider it, I was suddenly being dared to dump Emma. And, call me old-fashioned, I’m a man who does what his mates dare him to. Even if it ends up in lock-up, an ugly chick’s bed or Wodonga. That’s just the kind of bloke I am.

So, why dump Emma? Well, to begin with, she’s a little bit dumb. Not dumb-dumb, but dumb enough for it to be a problem. I hate to say it, I mean, I probably love her but…she’s pretty much beneath me, intellectually speaking. Example: she thought that the Second World War was in the 50s! As we all know, it was, like, in the 30s or something.
Secondly, she’s pretty dull. You know, the music she listens to is bo-ring. I’ll be ready to rock out with my cock out, and she’s sitting there with fricken Pink Floyd on or something. She’ll be all “Oh Chris, this music puts me in the mood…” and I’m just like “Whatever! Get some Eminem in the house!” Then she gets upset! Get over it. What year is this anyway?

Oh, and another reason. She wants me to be, like, a father figure and shit. And, you know, man, I like George Michael as much as the next bloke, but I can’t even take care of sea monkeys. I’d just let her down, you know?

Now, I need to set a time for myself by which I have to have done ‘the deed’. It has to be after my birthday because she does get good presents and the sex will actually be very good then. However, it has to be before our anniversary because it will be hard to break up after such a milestone and, really, I can’t afford to get a soon-to-be-ex girlfriend a present.

Therefore, by my calculations I will have to have dumped her by 6 weeks’ time. I will need that time to build up the courage, after all.

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Fanning the Flames of Religious Fundamentalism

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Let's make some Inflammatory Comments!


"Man, that Apollo sure is a stupid God. Fuck him"









"Hey, Zeus, your worshippers have no moral code!"











"Odin can eat my wang!"













"Medusa was a slut and her followers are too!"













"I bloody dare Ceridwen to strike me down where I stand"





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So, I got tagged.

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So, I got tagged by MeasleBump. So, here's the most happening thing in the blogosphere right now:

List 8 attributes of the perfect partner.

1. Must be female. I really can't stress this enough. My God, if only there was some way to make people understand that I don't want to have them sleep with my bottom. This is key. Take note, my loyal readers.

2. Must be breathing. Seriously, think about this for a minute. How annoying - not to mention gross - would it be to have a partner that wasn't always, in some sense, alive? Not to offend any of you necrophiles out there but..eww. So, yeah, this is pretty important to me in seeking out a partner, ideal or otherwise.

3. Should have the resources to get me home when I'm passed out in some bar. While not as important as the above two, this still ranks pretty high in my list. I mean, I'm a pretty heavy drinker and I can't really hold my piss, so a chick with a car is really what I'd be looking for. Which reminds me...

4. Must be OK with me refering to her as 'chick', 'hey you, over there' and 'current fuck'. It's not that I'm always vulgar, it's just that..you know, my ideal chick would have to be tolerant of a lot of things that some current fucks haven't been comfortable with.

5. She shouldn't be a member of al-Qaeda. Actually, this should probably extend to Hamas, the PLO, the IRA...pretty much any international terrorist organization. Sorry, it's not that I'm anti-violence so much as anti-women having a strong opinion. Unless, you know, their opinion consists of making me do the white wee wee. Booya.

6. No fat chicks. Obviously.

7. Must be able to play Dungeons and Dragons at a semi-professional level,. This is just standard. Since it's not likely she'll be a good conversationalist (right, guys? LOL), I think good D&D sessions can really bring a couple together. Or so I've heard anyway, from my mate Nigel who reckons he and his ex almost didn't break up because of the D&D.

8. Uh, can you lend me 20 bucks?


Well, I've done my part. Now, ladies, it's your turn. I await with baited breath.

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