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I don’t lower the boom or pull the band-aid off quickly. In potentially high drama situations, I simply don’t trust a lot of the girls I dump to not come at me with a carved wooden swordfish. (It’s happened.) Nor do I break up like a beta through text or email. Nope, I just let it fade. Taking the easy way out has its virtues. No muss, no fuss.
So I kind of let the end sneak up on her. I gradually see her less. Whenever she wants to do something I say “Sure… I guess.” I don’t return calls promptly. I make a big production of NOT being chivalrous. I spend even less money on her than I normally do. Eventually, a whole week goes by where I haven’t seen her, or more than a day passes before I’ve returned a call, or she gets hit in the ass by a revolving door that I’ve barreled through first, or I’ve started recycling my “free date” options where I get to do the things I wanted to do anyhow (like sample all the Fenders in Guitar Center) and she gets to be a spectator. It’s at this point that she scratches her head and wonders “Wow, I think we’re broken up. What just happened?”
That’s my MO. I’ll know I have succeeded when I can get the girl to ask herself “What just happened?”
What just happened is you have crossed paths with the poonhound.