I’d been seeing her for several years now, sneaking around when no one was looking. She was sweet. Very sweet. And very bad as well. But I couldn’t take it anymore. So one day I just walked in and told her it was over.
She didn’t say a word. Just stood there. I thought I noticed a Snicker. Yes, there definitely was a Snicker in there. But it didn’t matter. The relationship was over.
o o o
This week I went back to see her. It had been several months. She’s always there in our lunch room. It was almost as though nothing had changed. I saw that Snicker again. But things had changed! I was only there to look.
After all (dramatic pause required here), that vending machine was killing me. All those potato chips and candy bars. Breaking up isn’t easy to do. But I did it. Speaking of relationships and breaking up, newspapers have covered this stuff forever. So …
o o o
Two ladies from our copy desk came into the lunchroom and caught me staring at the machine. I quickly turned the conversation to the weather. And that led to a garden discussion.
It seems one of the copy editors has a relationship with her garden but the constant rain was keeping her from it.
She didn’t mind getting a little dirty, mind you, but dirt and mud are two different things.
The other copy editor wasn’t much in the mood for the rain, either. Unless, that is, she was at home, looking out her picture window with her cat in her lap.
Nothing wrong with a relationship with your cat. But wait a minute. What happened to that fedora-wearing boyfriend?
Him? Oh, that’s over, she tells me. He headed to Spain, ended up in a relationship with that Italy-wannabe country, and he broke it off.
She did get one visit to Spain out of the deal. So I wondered if he gave her the bad news at some café cantantes in the south of Spain where the flamenco was being performed?
Nope. The bad news actually came while they were both at a wedding in San Francisco. Really?
Come to find out she’s had a bit of a history with strange breakups. Like the time a boyfriend told her it was over when she had 103-degree fever, so she didn’t remember.
Later she went over to his place like nothing had happened … except something did happen!
Relationships. Such is life.
o o o
So this whole relationship thing gives me an idea. Since, as mentioned, we report on such things (that entire Sandra Bullock mess makes me mad), send me your own crazy breakup stories.
I’ll print the best one, and we’ll go to lunch on me.
Everyone is welcome to enter by May 12. Young, old, men, women. I’m open to pet breakups, although I’m not sure where I’d go to lunch then. Be creative. Bright, witty, entertaining and funny will do fine.
Keep it pretty short and sweet — and clean. No letters, please. Send it to me via e-mail, or you’re welcome to put it in as a comment to this column on our website.
Lou Brancaccio is The Columbian’s editor. Reach him at 360-735-4505 or lou.brancaccio@columbian.com.
