5 Reasons I’ve Probably Been Dumped
You have a real job? Well, so do I. But I go to the bathroom. Why is it strange if I call you from there?
By Liz Riggs
1. I made it too obvious that I wanted to marry you.
Oh whoops. You saw my confirmation email for The Knot? I was just perusing, bro. Get off your high horse. That bridal magazine that came in the mail? That’s for my mom. She’s looking for new, unconventional formalwear. Relax. And you know what? In case some irrational man does ask me to marry him someday, I’d like to be mentally prepared with links to some of my wedding must-haves. Like a moon bounce.
2. I called you way too much.
You have a real job? Well, so do I. But I go to the bathroom. Why is it strange if I call you from there? I eat lunch. Do you eat lunch? Does your office have a no-phones-on-lunch-break policy? Are you actually incarcerated and not employed? And so what if I want to call you when I wake up, when I get home from work, and before I go to bed (and if I wake up in the middle of the night to a bad dream)? I thought you wanted to know every scintillating detail about my hopes and fears and dreams. Is that not what you meant? Callous.
3. I wore something ridiculous on our first date.
Let’s face it. We never had a first date. We smooched once after a few drinks and somehow you ended up in an overly-serious relationship with me. You’re still confused as to how, but alas, here we are. And on our first date, you still remember distinctly: I wore parachute pants and a tie-dye t shirt. You thought I misheard “grab a drink” for “paintball.” I didn’t; I just decided to wear that.
4. I kept buying you things you didn’t want.
I promise, Hungry Hungry Hippos will totally come in handy when your friends come over for beers and are perfectly bored with your mediocre manpartment. And listen, if you don’t want that t-shirt with a picture of your own face on it, then stop complaining about the fact that you don’t have any clothes that you feel like are really “you.” Excuse my misinterpretation.
5. I’ve been destroying your Netflix queue.
No, I won’t get my own subscription. I need that seven dollars a month to mail you pictures of us from every romantic moment we experience that involves a smile, a sweater vest, or a breakfast sandwich. And honestly, it’s a little perplexing to me that you don’t appreciate the fact that I’ve managed to squeeze Dawson’s Creek into your top 10 suggestions. 
