Remember the story I had posted last year about Fred and his twice-in-one-night attempts to try and get me to sleep with him (if not, you can catch up by reading, “Can boys and girls be just friends?“)? Turns out Fred read it too.
A few nights ago, I was startled to receive some IMs through Facebook chat. “Hi Irene/ still alive?” they read.
It was Fred.
I guess if I can’t give Jackie credit for anything else, I can credit him with my most epic breakup of all time.
It all started on a Friday night in early April of 2008. I was visiting Jackie as usual on the weekend and had just arrived at his house in Palo Alto. I had been working all day under my terror of a boss, and suffice it to say I had dwindling patience for, well, anything.
I think I can safely boast that I’ve got a roster of some of the worst dumping procedures (myself being the recipient, not the bestower, of course). In hindsight, I’ve been able to look past the inhumanity of it all and find the humor (self-pity) in all this, which I guess is a good thing. Or maybe I’m just jaded.
It all started in the 8th grade with Mark, who decided it would be more tasteful to hire his lackey friend Joe to do the breaking up on his behalf.