Putting the E-motion Back in M-essaging (with Soul Brother #73)
by Meghan Shellfield
You know that conversation a few days before the breakup when you realize your relationship is over? That tearful moment as you sit in front of your computer, trashing his Facebook wall and MSNing with your friend about how much he hurt you that one time in Paris? It hits you all at once: the spark isn’t there anymore, and it sure isn’t coming back. No amount of livejournal poetry is making you feel better, and even 35 consecutive spins of “Your Ex-Lover is Dead” by Stars don’t fill the void in your heart.
In a crisis like this, there’s only one thing to do: pick up your cameraphone, and text your best friend.
“Ali,” you’ll multitap furiously, “hlp!!!! 
”
“Megs,” the consoling response will come, “dont b .” The words will warm your heart, reminding you that it can only take a handful of letters to transmit a bellyful of feeling.
“U,” she’ll further expound, “shud b totly (^_^)! Bcuz ur free now!!”
“Rly??” you’ll respond. You probably won’t be convinced right away. But your best friend won’t take “Rly??” for an answer.
“Ya!!!!! U shud skweez n2 hot Tru Rlgn jeans! Go 2 Smij! Get SHT FCED!” This’ll be great advice, but sadly, it’ll come too late: “I burnd Tru Rlgns ystrdy .” You tried to wash Ky’s distinctive musk out of them, but it was as hopeless as your fleeting love.
“Dmn grl y u brn them? Y u not giv 2 me?” she’ll plead.
“And hav u smel lik hm? Ur my BST FRND!!!” You’ll take a quick snap of your saddest expression with your cameraphone, send it to her, and cross-post it to your Flickr photoblog with “Ky is a shit-eating bastard” as the tag. You’ll turn to your iPod and slowly tackle the huge task of deleting all the songs with special memories of Ky associated with them, and the Special Memories w/ Ky playlist. Your finger will linger for a moment above the clickwheel when you pass by the Smiths section, but your resolve will overpower your love for the fey lyricism of Morrissey, and with an air of deadening finality you’ll banish “Hatful of Hollow” to the ether.
Suddenly, your compulsive refreshing of his Facebook profile will hammer the final nail into your quixotic coffin. You’ll catch the millisecond that he lists himself as “Looking For: Random Play.” Your stomach will wrench, and you may cry. But your goal will finally be clear.
“Hez a skizbag,” you’ll text to Alison.
“(y),” she’ll reply, “Dmp him b4 he dmps u.”
“Xactli.”
You’re now erasing all the whiny, self-loathing blog posts you wrote about him in the last two days. You’re doing your laundry without thinking about Ky. You’re putting “Hatful of Hollow” back on your iPod and singing along loudly, triumphantly, without embarrassment. You’re sending MSN messages to that guy in your European History seminar, and your ice cream bill is down to $12/month. Ky calls your cell, but you let the machine get it. When you finally call him back, you beat him to the punch. “It’s not me,” you purr. “It’s you.”
You know that conversation a few days after the breakup when you realize your relationship is over? Save that conversation, so the next time you’re sad about a guy, you can always turn to KyBreakupTriumph00495772.xml.