Dear Uncle Sam,
I want to wow my girlfriend with a grand romantic gesture to celebrate our three-month anniversary, but I can’t think of anything! Can you?
Hey there CF,
Maybe sharing some of my past experiences will be of use to you. I’ve been broken up with multiple times, so you should try to avoid doing the same sweet things I had planned for my ungrateful exes. Were you thinking something along the lines of a candlelit dinner? Fancy jewellery? A picturesque walk by the river – which was the last time she said she loved me – perhaps? Nah, fuck that. They’ll just take it and run, leaving you a hollow, heartbroken husk of a human.
Don’t put your money, effort, or love into a gift which will be heartlessly discarded by your lady love the moment she breaks up with you due to your unbearable cynicism. Why bother with presents? If she really loves you, superficial trinkets of your adoration would mean nothing to her, and hence showering your beloved with freebies couldn’t possibly change a thing – unless they’re a pathetic capitalist drone enthralled to the neoliberal, consumerist world order, that is. And if they are, why haven’t you broken up with that disgusting bourgeois scum already?!
Furthermore, if they’re crazy, they’ll burn anything that has a remote chance of triggering memories of you. Apparently, it’s socially acceptable to act like an insufferable prick after a break up – but not if you’re a tortured soul who was led on yet again, only to be ruthlessly discarded just like that jumper I bought her for Christmas three years ago which I’m pretty sure she just threw in the rubbish straight away – she didn’t even donate it to a charity shop or anything. Can you fucking believe that shit?
You need to give your girlfriend something truly special until it’s easily eclipsed by her next partner – or so she tells me – happy memories. Maybe you can plan a special day out for the two of you: ideally one which doesn’t descend into a savage personal argument over which restaurant to eat at, since a wretched, lazy sack of bones which is unwilling to walk for just fucking five minutes to that lovely Chinese place is masquerading as the girl I’d do anything to be with again.
Or even better, you could whisk the two of you away for a cute city break, right before she leaves you for that Etonian dickbrain Alan. Or was his name Andy? Shit, I can’t remember. Come to think of it, it may be Aaron. He’s that obnoxious cunt who plays guitar in that atrocious indie band, remember? It’s on the tip of my fingers. Fuck it, I’m going with Andy. Fuck you, Andy.
If any of these suggestions sound a little too pricey or time-consuming, take comfort in the fact that any energy expended impressing your amore will all be in vain once she explains why a relationship with you is emotionally draining in meticulous detail, which is what happened to me. She’d even made a Flipchart. If I were you, I’d save your affection for your future wife, who I’m sure you’ll end up with once you both realise that the all-consuming sadness polluting your hearts can never be cleansed, meaning getting back together and begrudgingly starting a family in spite your toxic chemistry is the path of least resistance.