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girlfriend break up


Girlfriend break up? It’s one way to learn how to stay married later. A bad break up then makes a better husband now.


Dirk Ferguson witnessed the aftermath of a girlfriend break up that served as a guide to any break up wing man for the whole sad affair.


Play Hall and Oates’ She’s Gone and continue.


Everybody’s high on consolation
Everybody’s trying to tell me what is right for me, yeah
My daddy tried to bore me with a sermon
But it’s plain to see that they can’t comfort me


Dirk tells the story like this:


I lived in a roommate house in college where one of the guys had the sort of girlfriend we all wanted. She was smart, pretty, and seemed to like our roommate.


Then she stopped showing up, calling, or even caring about his feelings, and ours.


They were a nice match from the looks of things. He was sensitive, she was forceful, the boss of the relationship. When she pulled the plug he went down the drain.


Like good roommates we rallied him with a ‘She’s Gone’ night out. Except it didn’t take. The more we told him he was lucky she was gone, the more he missed her.


We took him out to the local steakhouse for drinks and food and time together with his boys. He was so sad, but we knew what to do. We hit the bar and moved from beers to hard A before we got a table.


We couldn’t comfort him at all, but we kept up a brave front with the sort of banter that made things worse than they were. He couldn’t see that she was evil no matter how hard we tried. Was she evil? Only if she dated one us after dumping our roommate.


We all ordered prime rib. Three plates showed up during our girlfriend break up talk.


“What do I do now,” he asked.


“Don’t drive by her house. That’s not a good idea. Never a good idea. If you do that you might see a new guy through the window. The next thing you know you’ll be throwing bottles of Michelob at them from the back of a drive by pick up truck.”


Sorry, Charlie for the imposition
I think I’ve got it, got it, I’ve got the strength to carry on, yeah
I need a drink and a quick decision
Now it’s up to me, ooh, what will be


As a group we had a few drinks, nothing extreme, at least nothing that would produce a bad outcome. But we got one anyway.


We settled into the food, cutting that prime rib and chewing mouthfuls in silence.


One of the hunks of meat had a strange lump in the middle. One of the roommates cut into it and a blood clot spewed out. He stared a moment then stood quickly and left.


After a few minutes the ex-boyfriend noticed the missing roommate. I went to the men’s room to check. Opened the door and nearly slipped and fell. Our blood clot roommate tossed his cookies on the floor and used his foot to move paper towels around to clean up, doing the hokey pokey puke dance.


No sign of illness or drunkenness, the blood clot pushed his limit, so we headed back to the table, collected the heart broken and asked for the bill. We wanted the management to waive the bill since the evening had taken such an unappetizing turn.


They refused to budge, we refused to pay, so they called the police. After threats of legal action, we paid the bill. The manager banned us from the bar to add insult to blood clot.


Being sharp college guys we decided to get a room at the attached motel, then go back to bar legally. Being sharp restaurateurs, they’d already called the front desk and warned them.


“I’m sorry, we have no vacancies,” was the word.


Walking back to the car we noticed the police were still waiting for the next event, which would have involved arresting one of us for DUI.


“Don’t stop at the car,” the smartest of the group said. Girlfriend break up guy followed along.


We walked past and found a place to watch until the police left. Once they pulled out we waited another ten minutes.


Get up in the morning, look in the mirror
I’m worn as the tooth brush hanging in the stand
My face ain’t looking any younger
Now, I can see love’s taken her toll on me


“See, now we’ll have more time together for activities like this,” we explained to girlfriend break up.


“Like this?” he said. “What was this all about?”


“Guys out for a good time.”


“This isn’t a good time,” he said.


“Could have been lots worse.”


Think I’ll spend eternity in the city
Let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away
And pretty bodies help dissolve the memories
And they can never be what she was to me

She’s gone, oh, I
I’d better learn how to face it
She’s gone, I can’t believe it
She’s gone, oh, I
I pay the devil to replace her


“Do you want to drive by her house? We’ll need a six pack of Michelob if we do,” I said.


“For what?” he asked.


“In case she’s got a new guy?”


“We’re not throwing beer bottles through her window. Where do you get these ideas?”


“Let’s do this, then. We get a case, drink half, warm your arm up, and see how we feel. The later the better.”


“Okay. You really like Michelob.”


“I like the feel of the bottle in my hand. A good grip sails better.”
About David Gillaspie

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