Also, don’t break up with someone via text. There’s a lot to go through here, and no one involved ends up looking like a saint, so let’s begin with: 26-year-old Quin Woodward Pu — who wrote a memoir about transiting from “MCAT-teaching pre-med free clinic volunteer to directionless, yet fabulous and resourceful, freelance writer” (red flag #1) — helpfully provided this bit of back story on her blog, Little Black Book (red flag #2).
It all started two weeks ago, when I met some rando at a bar. He was friendly enough, but annoyingly and sloppily drunk, which is why I offered my email address when he asked for my number. We emailed later that weekend, and I met up for a few drinks, which eventually turned to dinner, and then champagne. We had relatively good chemistry, but then, I kinda have chemistry with pretty much everyone, because I really like talking to people and winning over complete strangers.
We had dinner the following weekend, and it was equally fun. I invited him to my birthday party, which I’m holding this weekend for my closest 125 friends. He wouldn’t be in town, so he scheduled a weekend in Virginia wine country the following weekend. It seemed a bit much, but I agreed to a day trip. When we parted that day, I didn’t think much of anything. In fact, I actually headed out to a bar to meet up with a former lover from 2012, with whom I may or may not entertain a few exchanges here and there. #timesbeing. (Via)
Now I’m imagining Sex and the City if Carrie knew what hashtags were, and I’m beginning to gag. Anyway, on Monday, Pu received the following text from her wine country partner. #winecountrypartner
Sh*tty of the guy to call things off over text, but nothing too offensive in there. Except to Pu:
I was stunned into paralysis. I had no words — this never happens — and I just felt short of breath. There were many things that pissed me off, but I was so flustered I couldn’t even articulate them. Again, this is a serious problem for a writer and effusive communicator.
I was still so agitated 10 hours later that I had to leave opera rehearsal early. This is a serious no-no, given that opening night is Saturday at the Organization of American States.
Then I realized: I am on the eve of my 26th birthday. Why am I stewing instead of just expressing what I really feel? There is practically nothing to lose from just telling the truth. (Via)
And express she did.
But seriously, don’t break up over text. Or text anyone ever. Or use the Internet. It’s brutal out there.
I want more like this!
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