How to Break Up With a Girl Who Hasn’t Done Anything Wrong, Plus How Awful is Life After College?
Q: What is the best way to go about breaking up with a girl who hasn't done anything particularly wrong. She's a great girlfriend and everything, but I am just ready to move on to bigger and better things and am having a hard time articulating an explanation.
A: I’d argue that the hardest thing to do in life, for us losers with souls, is letting down a person who thinks you’d be the last person on earth to ever let them down. A simple note that says, “Hey, Bitch. We’re done here. So I’ll see ya when I see ya” just doesn’t seem to suffice these days. Although I bet that’s how it’s done in North Korea. But no, not us, we’re a nation of goddamn feelings havers. I blame Oprah.
Keep in mind is that regardless of your approach, she is going to be devastated, especially if this is coming out of left field. Here is quick list of how to do this as painlessly as possible:
– Do it at her house or apartment. I once had a roommate foolishly break up with a girl at our house. She wouldn’t leave; she needed the timeless question of “WHY?” answered. Out of desperation, HE started to cry and stormed out of the house like he couldn’t take it anymore. He is a flawed human being…and a true piece of shit for leaving me to clean up his mess of an ex. However, I have to applaud his move because it was of the bold flavored variety.
– Don’t tell her the truth. Of course you’re ditching her to find better, but she doesn’t need to know that. That’s like taking a shit on her chest and then rubbing it in her face. Leave her with some dignity for Christ’s sake.
– Make her believe this is a good idea. When she asks why you’re doing this immediately ask her if she would have rathered you not say anything and waste more of her time by leading her on?
-Don’t look back. You know she is crushed, but she will get over this. Women are resilient. They figure out how to clean the shit off their chest and move on with their lives. But the more you keep in contact with her, the longer that recovery will take.
– Don’t hook up with or bring home a girl right in front of her face for a few months. That’s just polite.
Q: So, I have about 2 weeks left until graduation and it makes me sick. It’s to the point that I’ve honestly been considering failing a class to even ride out a measly, summer session. I despise every douchebag on Facebook that feels obligated to proudly announce the remaining amount of days on their statuses. It just doesn’t make sense to me why so many people would count down to the end of the best 4 years of their lives. Anyways, about 98% of the people I talk to about the real world tell me just awful and depressing things. Some guy even told me that going out on a Thursday isn’t even an option?!? Please, J.Camm, enlighten me with a couple of bright sides to the real world. Women, money, company expense cards??
A: Without compromising his anonymity, I will just inform others that this Bro goes to a party school that ranked within our Top 10, so I can understand why he wants to stick around. Getting while the getting is good is an everlasting trait of the Bro species. “Is that free pussy over there? I'll take some. Thanks.”
As someone who unintentionally carded a big fat “D” in a class that was part of his fucking major during the final semester of college, causing him to have to take a summer class to graduate, I can't tell you loud enough DON'T DO IT. It costs money, time, and if your parents are picking up the extra tab, endless grief. It sounds like a great idea in your head, but trust me when I tell you that it stinks. In fact, it's more odiferous than shit out of water. And we all know that is no one's friend.
Graduating college, for many, is like closing time at a bar: You don’t have to grow up, but you can’t stay there. If you have no other plans of getting an MBA, masters, law degree, etc,. get the fuck out as soon as possible and start your life. The more you delay it, the less attractive you’ll be to a future employer. (Feel free to ignore this if your after-college-plans involve near lethal doses of nepotism. If that’s the case, stick around.)
As for the Real World: it’s a stressful, hardscrabble place of uncertainty, but it isn’t all that terrible. I’d be lying if I said I don’t worry on a weekly basis about what life would be like if I lost this killer gig I’ve got, or that the thought of aging doesn’t sicken me to my core, but it does have its “bright side.”
Yes, you can go out on Thursday nights. Hell, there are people in our office who are out of college for more than five years and still go out six nights a week –they may only be in their late-twenties, but their livers are qualified for AARP. Also, if you move to a big city like NYC, Boston, Philly or even L.A., you can sleep around with the greatest of ease; no more not being able to pursue a girl because your ex is in her sorority. And last, but definitely not least, making your own money and your own decisions sure as hell beats having to listen to your parents give you shit about how you used the credit card at Moon Sushi twenty times in one month. What the fuck, dad, did you want me to starve? Prick.
Q: Mighty J. Camm,
Would you rather:
Have perfect hair, and I mean flawless shit. Think David Beckham meets Matthew McConaughey flow, except a color one shade closer to a ocular rape than Carrot Top's.
Or have your current hair color with an embarrassingly obvious case of premature balding, thin, and going to look like a cue ball before 35 situaish? (If you're already a redhead – sucks to suck, I guess.)
A: First off, I’m not a redhead. And secondly, I can't lie to you beautiful bastards, I want my hair to remain a lush thicket of wonder long into old age. Actually, I want it even till death; I'd be beside myself if I looked like shit with an open casket. I mean, have you seen what Al Davis' head looked like the last few years before he died? Fucking liver spots galore. Not to mention whatever was going on that required him to wear a Band-Aid in perpetuity. Yeah, no thanks.
So I think I'd take a full head of orange hair. But only as long as my pubes get to remain blacker than an oil spill. If not, all bets are off.
Oh, and I'm pretty sure McConaughey has dipped his toe into the hair plug pool. Look it up.
Q: I recently caught one of my bros red handed, stealing my phone. He is guilty beyond doubt, but I haven't talked to him since or accused him of it yet. My question now is how should I deal with him in the most bro fashion?
A: Punch him in the fuckin' dick and then kick him down a flight of stairs? Perfect solution? Maybe? Maybe?
Honestly, call him out on his shit and if he refuses to admit that he stole it or won’t give it back, seek further action. If you have proof he stole it, get the authorities involved. Kicking his face into his fucking pants sounds like fun, but a shitbag, non-friend such as this deserves worse. So you may as well ruin his life and get him arrested for petty larceny.
Q: Living in a dorm, where is the most appropriate/least fucked up place to shave your pubes?
Also, Would you rather get a blowjob from a shark or have a cactus shoved up your ass once a week for 6 months?
A: Jesus Vespa Driving Christ. If you haven't figured this out yet, you have much to learn about life. I'm seriously concerned about your development. After I answer this question I might go and start a nonprofit to get you some relief. One-percent of all money raised will go directly to you.
Until then, here's how you make your dick look like hot hot heat when you're a dorm dweller:
Assuming that your college doesn't have a pit of showers like prison and you have the privacy of a stall, you straight razor your nutbag when you're in the shower. But before you do that, you must first mow the lawn. To do that, and this will be burdensome as shit for some of you, you skip jerking off one day when your roommate isn't in your room — tough proposition, I know — and you grab a garbage bag, rip it at the seams, and put it on the floor. Stand on it, take clippers out, attach the desired guard, and groom till satisfaction is achieved. Really not difficult AT ALL… Provided you don't have tourettes or Parkinson's.
Onward to your second question, young hairy balled bro…
I'm into kinky sex that comes with tons of fucking street cred, everyone knows that about me, so I'd get blown by a shark. You know what kind of clout that would bring? Even if Jaws ripped my cock clear off my torso, you can't deny how boss shark fellatio is.
PRO TIP: Any time I want to gage what is more badass in these “would you rathers” I just imagine an irritated Mr. T explaining about how he just did them to someone else and I usually find my answer pretty quick. For instance, “I just got blown by a shark, fool” is slightly greater than, “Shoved a cactus up my ass, had bi-curious thoughts, fool.” I call it Deductive Teasoning. Feel free to use it liberally in your daily lives.
Q: I recently faced this dilemma: When moving your laundry from the washer to the dryer, what do you do when something vital (like your underwear) falls on the dirty floor? Re-wash it or put it in the dryer?
A: NIGHTMARE. And it happens to me literally every time I wash my clothes because the washers in my building are front-loaders and our laundry room floors are the antithesis of cleanly. Without fail, I always drop underwear or socks in the process of moving my shit from the washer to the dryer. Just adds an extra layer of misery to an already miserable chore.
Candidly, it’s usually my finance’s underwear that hits the floor and, for a brief moment, before I fling them into the dryer I think, “What if these just picked up a vaginal parasite that’ll creep it’s way up under her clitoral hood and kill her from the inside out? Maybe I should rewash these?”
But then, I come to my senses and realize A) it would cost me $2.50 to rewash them B) forty-five more minutes of my life would be dedicated to the imposition known as laundry C) the dryer is basically an oven and has to be hot enough to kill anything that was just picked up and D) Deductive Teasoning says, “Put those panties in the dryer, you gum-flappin,’ fairy-boy pussy.”
Mr. T can be an ornery motherfucker sometimes.
[Dumped Girl image via ShutterStock]