“I’m sorry… I don’t think it’s working. Hope you have fun tonight.”
I reread the message over and over again, choking back tears.
I was genuinely gutted, humiliated at being dumped over whatsapp. I thought it was going well! He said he liked me! The usual whirl of confusion and hurt resulted in me sobbing and black mascara dribbling down my face and onto my toga (now would be a good time to mention I was about to go to a toga party – a makeshift white sheet wrapped around me is not my usual look).
As true girlfriends do, my flatmates gathered round and told me (nicely) to pull myself together. Melissa* hugged me and reassured me that I was stupidly sexy and he was a complete t**t. Sophie* grabbed my phone, which was covered in more dribble than I would care to admit, and started scrolling through our earlier whatsapp conversation to see exactly what had been said.
“The cheeky p***k!” Sophie yelled. “‘Hope you have fun tonight’?? Of course you’re not going to have fun NOW are you!” She joined in the hug, still holding my phone and slating him, whilst I sobbed: “I just don’t understand what I did! Everything was fine yesterday! What isn’t working?”
My phone buzzed.
In horror, Sophie broke out from our group hug. “Um… I accidentally… might have… pressed the voice note button whilst we were just talking….”
I leapt towards her and grabbed my phone so we could hear what we had accidentally sent my ex.
“Well” Melissa optimistically reasoned, “You can’t hear any of the insults. Just a lot of rustling and crying.”
“That’s even worse! He’s going to think I’m a pathetic creep who recorded me crying to make him feel sorry for me!” I moaned, before we all collapsed into hysterical giggles.
We devised a panicky “whoops sorry lol, accident” message before blocking him. On deleting his number, I felt an instant sense of catharsis. I probably would have stalked him for months if I hadn’t blocked and deleted him out of embarassment, so I guess it was a blessing in disguise.
I adjusted my toga, fixed my mascara and (with a slightly brusied ego) headed out.
The night ended with me kissing a hot rugby player and bringing him back to the flat – don’t get excited, we didn’t have sex. He threw up in my Cath Kidston tuppaware and then stole my “I heart Valencia” t-shirt (which I would like back, if you’re reading).
The first moral of this story is, don’t dump someone by text. It’s spineless, rude and shows you couldn’t care less about them.
The second moral of this story is, don’t use Whatsapp because it is INSANELY easy to send someone a voice note by accident.
The third moral of this story is, it’s surprisingly easy to pull whilst wearing a toga.