Getting dumped is the absolute pits. We’ve all been kicked to ye olde curb at least once in our lives (thanks a heap, Doug*, you crushed my fifth grade spirit), and it is never a picnic. It is really the nature of the dumping, however, that determines the moroseness of the dumpee. I believe the calculus is something like [(douchebag + new girlfriend) – thoughtfulness] x (# of times “it’s not you” mentioned) = # of pints Ben and Jerry’s consumed; but hey, math was never my strong suit. If you’d like to think about it more linearly, here’s my list of ways to be dumped, from bad, to worse . . . to worst.
*name changed to protect the not-so-innocent