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How To Not Break Up With Your Girlfriend

After 28 years on this most wonderful planet, I have not acquired a single point in the relationship arena. In fact my cumulative score is likely negative with a note next to it saying “see me after class”. Unlike some on this blog, my relationship count is not high reaching a meager four. You would think I would treasure each one and do what I could to make them survive but instead I did the following to end them in a fantastic fashion. So if there is any advice I can give regarding relationships, it is how to not end them.


I have written about a few adventures during a magical Europe trip during the summer of 2004. Going into this trip I was toting a multi year on-and-off relationship that I was not entirely excited about but nonetheless I had to obligingly extend the invitation to my girlfriend to come along with us. She excitedly accepted to be with us for the first two weeks.

Two days in, she and I are walking through the illustrious Hyde Park in London with a heavy cloud of tension following us around. I knew all I had to do was survive two weeks and a few countries with her without causing any waves, and then I could end this thing once and for all. Breaking up now was not an option, in whatever country.

As the cloud of tension began to show signs of British rain, her womanly intuition called me out.

“Luke, is there something wrong?”


“Luke, I know you too well. What’s wrong?”

After considering my excuses and distances to the nearest exits of this enormous park, “I’m not happy and I don’t think we should go out anymore.”

Every game show buzzer in the world went off and the collective groaning of the crowd echoed through the Royal Albert Hall. The next five days staying in cramped hostels with a shared suitcase and backpack with your recently made ex-girlfriend were disastrous and not how you celebrate the beginning of a two-month trip through Europe.

Internationally and Biologically

Roughly the same circumstances as the last one but adding the excuse of biological conflicts make for an even more horrendous breakup that I do not wish upon anyone.


At the age of 18 I had my virginity stolen from me. I had no idea what I was doing; she was pulling my clothes off; her parents were in the other room; she wouldn’t turn the lights on; she rode me hard and fast on top; and after two minutes I embarrassingly climaxed with no sign that she got any pleasure out of it at all. With no words we went to bed and I contemplated crying or screaming rape.

I got over this and things were good during the latter part of my freshman year at university as I bragged about my hot older girlfriend who was still in high school and who would drive out to visit me on demand.

As the summer began, she was moving to Germany for six months and I decided that things had to end civilly. She left on a Sunday and my university friends and I had planned a trip to Tijuana on the Friday night before. She wanted to hang out during our final weekend but I decided it had to end before hand to accommodate underage drinking south of the border.

On the Friday I saw her, said my goodbyes, shared our last few kisses, explained the situation about the weekend, and gave her a hand written letter sealed with wax and gave her very explicit directions to not open it until she was on the airplane.

Good plan right? Well it depends on what’s in the letter. So what did it say? Now my memory is a little foggy about the exact details but here is the condensed version …

Dear Virginity Thief,

Well it was a hoot huh? Shame you gotta go. Well since your going I thought I would let you know that I was never really into this relationship and I had countless other sexual experiences while we were seeing each other. I hope you can understand. Have a kick ass summer in Germany. Get me some bitchin’ beer mugs.

Your bud,


Now … I know that might seem bad but the interesting part about it was that in fact I had had zero other sexual experiences while we were together. Zilch. So I am not sure why I said that. Maybe it was to make myself seem cool? Maybe to force her to give up on Germany and stay and prove why she really was the best I could get with unending sex? Bragging rights to my fraternity friends? I don’t know. Retarded.

So on the Saturday morning she called and asked if she could come visit me and begged I not go to Mexico. I told her that we were half way there already even though we had not left yet and the whole plan was starting to not happen due to flakey drivers. She seemed bummed out as we said goodbye in voice for the last time.

At this point I considered her already in Germany and really didn’t want much more to do with her so I hoped it was over. She texted a few times and I gave the same shpeel with the added information that we were about to go over the border and my phone would not work anymore. Then my phone rang. I let it go to voicemail. It then rang again. Voicemail. One more time, one more voicemail. And finally it rang for the last time and one last voicemail and then it never rang again from that phone number.

Later that night I checked my voicemails with my best bud listening. Again, the memory is foggy, but the four of them went something like…

Voicemail 1: “Luke, like whatever, you are such a fucking asshole. Like, that is the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me. Like, fuck you.”

Voicemail 2: “Luke, I hate you.”

Voicemail 3: “Luke, I fucking hate you.”

Voicemail 4: “Luke, I hate you so fucking much.”


Not to end relationships and do everything in my power to make the one that I am in now work out. Fortunately now I am with someone who makes that easy and I really like the fact that this blog will never have to be updated.


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