I broke up with a girl and spent the last three days going through the grieving process. I know you don’t give a shit. Which is why I’m telling you about it. As the love doctor, it’s my responsibility to force you to read things. So you will read this story or…
[I need some time to come up with a proper threat. I’ll get back to you.]
Emotion doesn’t occur in the heart. It occurs in the brain. It’s a common fact that the heart has only one function: to make T-Pain’s lyrics sound less painful.
So for all intents and purposes, I didn’t have a heartbreak. I had a brainbreak.
No matter how many times I train my phone to include curse words in its dictionary, the damn thing won’t relent. Here’s the type fight I had with it.
Phone: Oh hi Erique. It’s a FULL moon tonight, huh? I see a FIERCE FROWN on your FACE. So how may I FACILITATE you this FRIDAY?
Phone: I like where this is going my FRIEND. The FURTHER you type, the brighter a FUTURE I see.
Phone: Oooh you sly dog you. Woof woof! You want some DUCK, huh? I getcha. Those things are rare these days. It has a plural by the way. DUCKS. Or DUCKLING if you like them young and yummy.
Phone: I really think you meant DUCK. No? Maybe it’s what you should mean.
Phone: DUCK it is. So you want to DUCK THIS SHIP?
I go to Le Beaujolais to drink my troubles away and nurse my frustration…those things. I enter the club and the DJ is playing Indian music.
I shrug it off thinking “Well, maybe he’s just been smoking shisha and this is his idea of a height.”
Two songs later, he’s getting deeper into the Indian vibe. So I put my glass down and look around for anything Punjabi-looking, thinking “Ok, maybe he’s trying to start a business on Kampala road and wants to impress an Indian for funding and business advice.”
Five songs later, I’m starting to believe in Krishna and shaking my head no to mean yes.
I even start to look at cows in a whole new perspective. In frustration I order for another Pepsi coz now I have two things to worry about: losing a girl and losing my taste in music.
I stagger out soda wasted and stand next to the swimming pool just staring and bonding with the water. Then I remember the first brainbreak rule: You do not bathe, eat or sleep, you do not comb or wear clean clothes, you just lock yourself in a dark room and start feeling sorry for yourself.
I wasn’t supposed to be standing anywhere close to water so I staggered to the car, inserted a Blink 182 CD and listened to them saying kind things about death.
I swore off drinking and went back to beers. At the bar, I was crushing on some girl with a sufficiently built body till I eavesdropped on their conversation. “…but you also you naawe! They posponded it to up to those ends of next week…” she quipped. She wasn’t running Microsoft Word. And neither were her friends. They all spoke using Notepad.
I stood up stealthily and backed away slowly and steadily to make sure she didn’t hear me crushing on her. And that’s how I knew I had been healed. I had just walked away from booty.
When going through a breakup stay away from your phone’s dictionary, a Club Le Beaujolais DJ, Indians and English words spoken by chics with booty. They all don’t like you.