Breaking up is hard to do
Mollie McIntyre
Issue date: 3/18/10 Section: Opinion
Wait, at 6 a.m. I'm waking up to flowers at my door and by 11 a.m. the next day I've been dumped? Who do you think you are? The Vice-President of SG?
Now listen, I've been on the other side of this street. Basing your decisions off of what others think is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If you don't have that feeling that you legitimately want to be with me, f***ing just tell me and get this shit over with.
Leaving me in a scenario reminiscent of a KE$HA song, I found myself confronted with these questions as to why I was being dumped:
1. Was it the sex?
2. Was it the separation?
3. Was it the fact that tensions flared when he left his dirty ass clothes on my floor?
4. Where is my Jack Daniels?
After my best friend, Amy Davidson, was finished picking me up off the floor and disposing of the three boxes of Kleenex next to my bed, she asked me one of the most important questions I have ever had to face, "I can get my brothers over here in five minutes, do you want them to kick his ass?"
Now this is the point where I had to contemplate a law suit or witnessing the sweet revenge of a job well done. Considering Bexley Police stayed clear of Saylor-Ackerman on Monday, you can guess what choice I made.
When you've reached your lowest point, who do you call? Your mom? No, she'll just pass judgment on you and ask questions you really do not feel like answering.
Your brothers? No, because that could result in a different type of law suit.
You call your Editor-In-Chief and closest companion to tell you how wonderful you are and talk as much shit as possible on the early morning of St. Patrick's Day.
This is where Beth Sharb and Connor Thompson come in to remind me that it takes a little longer for some guys' balls to drop.
Listen, don't think that every time I get my heart broken I am going to go all Taylor Swift on your ass and announce it in my conveniently placed media outlet.
It's understandable when you don't like someone anymore, but now you know, it's a bad idea to dump a member of the Chimes staff.
Look out world, here comes a single lady.
By Mollie McIntyre
Business manager
mmcintyr@capital.edu
Now listen, I've been on the other side of this street. Basing your decisions off of what others think is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If you don't have that feeling that you legitimately want to be with me, f***ing just tell me and get this shit over with.
Leaving me in a scenario reminiscent of a KE$HA song, I found myself confronted with these questions as to why I was being dumped:
1. Was it the sex?
2. Was it the separation?
3. Was it the fact that tensions flared when he left his dirty ass clothes on my floor?
4. Where is my Jack Daniels?
After my best friend, Amy Davidson, was finished picking me up off the floor and disposing of the three boxes of Kleenex next to my bed, she asked me one of the most important questions I have ever had to face, "I can get my brothers over here in five minutes, do you want them to kick his ass?"
Now this is the point where I had to contemplate a law suit or witnessing the sweet revenge of a job well done. Considering Bexley Police stayed clear of Saylor-Ackerman on Monday, you can guess what choice I made.
When you've reached your lowest point, who do you call? Your mom? No, she'll just pass judgment on you and ask questions you really do not feel like answering.
Your brothers? No, because that could result in a different type of law suit.
You call your Editor-In-Chief and closest companion to tell you how wonderful you are and talk as much shit as possible on the early morning of St. Patrick's Day.
This is where Beth Sharb and Connor Thompson come in to remind me that it takes a little longer for some guys' balls to drop.
Listen, don't think that every time I get my heart broken I am going to go all Taylor Swift on your ass and announce it in my conveniently placed media outlet.
It's understandable when you don't like someone anymore, but now you know, it's a bad idea to dump a member of the Chimes staff.
Look out world, here comes a single lady.
By Mollie McIntyre
Business manager
mmcintyr@capital.edu