On Sunday I took a trip to a small college town three hours east of me. It was with a friend of mine whose boyfriend of three and a half years had dumped her for no reason. He’d spoken of marriage, got along fine in the family, treated her well and one day he just left. Not even just dumped her, left for that little college town and called her from there saying it just wasn’t going to work out.

She needed closure, she told me, not because she was ‘like that’ but because he’d caught her so off guard she’d barely had anything to think at the time let alone say.

“What do you say to a man,” she said as the highway slipped by, “who promised you the world for three years and then just changed his mind one day?”

“You say ‘Who is the bitch’!” came the cry from the backseat.

“I’m not saying this just because I love you,” came another call, “but I never could figure out why you two were together.”

“Now guys,” I said seriously, “we can’t be overly mean. What if she takes him back when he realises what an absolutely idiot he was to let her go?”

Even with all my seriousness the girls and I just dissolved in laughter. As we approached our destination we synchronized our watches. Planners we are, through and through. Ten minutes for her closure time, a little shopping on the square, and then to the local pizza joint since shopping is Such an athletic activity.

The three of us pawed through bins of rings and hair accessories as we counted down the ten minute Final Showdown. There was a little talk of whether she’d get in there an panic; perhaps she’d say she was miserable without him and she’d be in the weaker position. There was also the natural talk of whether it was better to get closure or to just get a new man.

“I’m a fan of getting a new hairstyle and a new pair of shoes.”
“Or a handbag. I have lots of handbags!”
“Grab your girlfriends, head out to whatever is your version of fun and objectify the men from afar.”
“Or just take cookies to all the neighbors and say ‘know any hotties’ until you find one… Both quite equal on the Reasonable Scale.”

For the record she didn’t panic. And we had the best pizza, beer and boy objectifying night of all time.

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