Confessions: What’s your worst breakup story?

It’s not you, it’s me


I was 15, very young and naive, and not accustomed to being pursued by anyone, let alone an 18-year-old with a car. I’m not sure if I saw too far beyond the car when he asked me to be his girlfriend a few weeks after meeting each other, but I had managed to convince myself I liked him a lot. It quickly became clear that we were in very different places in our lives: he told me he’d already slept with five different girls, and I hadn’t done anything other than some brief over-the-bra action. He claimed he didn’t care and seemed content for a while with picking me up in his car so he could park it in an empty car park and take my bra off. He attempted to unzip my jeans but I was so not ready for that. I practically jumped out of the car and ran home every time he tried. He, very nicely to his merit, asked if I’d be ready to have sex with him any time soon and I said probably not. Not soon after he called me up and broke up with me. I wonder why.


Me and my girlfriend had been going out for less than a year, but the honeymoon period was over and it was clear things were fizzling out. By the time we broke up it didn’t really come as a surprise to either of us, but the fact we were in the same friendship group didn’t help things. On our first big night out together she decided to combat the awkwardness by drinking and taking everything she could get her hands on. We had a blazing row, I had to take her home in a taxi she kept trying to jump out of, and I then had to hold her phone as she pissed herself in an alleyway. It was only when I was holding her hair back as she was being sick that she got a text from the guy she’d been cheating on me with.


I had a friend who was a real bitch, so she stole my boyfriend’s number off my phone and started texting him every day. A week later they met up in town, and I got a voicemail from him saying he’d met someone else. Obviously it was her.



My friends had found out that my boyfriend had been cheating on me, so decided to take me on a night out to tell me over drinks. The boyfriend then decided he had to go on a night out to the same club, so they took me back to my house to tell me there. Literally the moment were telling me, he showed up unannounced along with 10 other random people to have a party back at mine. I told my friends to ask him to leave and he genuinely wouldn’t move, despite everyone shouting at him. We spent the next few hours trying to get him out of the house, and in that time we found out he’d slept with multiple other people, even pretending he lived in my house and bringing girls back when I was away.


When I was younger, I went out with a guy called Joe. Joe was great, we got on really well, had a lot of friends in common, but after a couple of months we realised we were more really good friends than anything else. We were too scared to officially break up, so we said we’d go on a break for a few weeks and see how things turned out. It’s been six years and we still haven’t spoken. We’re pretty much still going out.


A girl I’d been seeing on my year abroad was absolutely nuts, and when I decided to break things off she didn’t take it lightly. There were the usual tears and drinks thrown in my face, but things really came to a head one night when I’d been ignoring her (admittedly on purpose). I’d worn my favourite jacket out that night, but it had gone missing – I was devastated. I looked for it for about 20 minutes to no avail, when I finally spotted it about 100 yards out to sea: with her, fully clothed, dunking it in the water and crying.


When I was 17 I’d being going out with someone I thought was really cool, since he was 19 and on a gap year, for about two months. So cool that I had lost my virginity to him and accepted his invitation to be official on Facebook. It wasn’t until we’d slept together about three times one night when we were at mine that I noticed he wasn’t being normal. We were sat in my bed watching The IT Crowd season four, sat slightly too far apart. Once the episode had finished the DVD went back to the opening menu theme and that’s when he decided to tell me the “spark” had gone.

I was mainly embarrassed because I’d accepted his relationship invitation the day before, so was going to have to explain to my friends I’d been dumped within 24 hours, but the nail was driven in when he patronisingly kissed me on the head on the way out the door and told me I would go far, as I was crying. That shitty, eery theme tune plagued me for weeks.



It was one of those relationships where I don’t think either of us ever really decided we liked each other. Fortunately it only lasted a couple of months, unfortunately we lived next door to each other so had to see each other around constantly afterwards. She had a tendency to be fairly demanding: one time she made me get out of bed to join her in a club at 1am because she was drunk-sad and having flashbacks to the time her last boyfriend broke up with her. When I got there she laughed at me for having made the effort and kept flirting with other guys to try and make me jealous.

A couple of weeks later she’d been out again and woke me up in the middle of the night by repeatedly calling me. It turns out she wanted to let me know she was walking past my house in a few minutes and she wanted me to come downstairs and meet her. My bed was warm, outside was cold, she was really drunk and, honestly, I didn’t like her enough to even bother raising my head off the pillow. She eventually went home (after threatening to ring my doorbell until my entire house woke up) and promptly informed me the next day that I was a dick. We never quite said the words “It’s over” but that was close enough.


I’d been dating this guy for two months and he was a couple of years older (I actually couldn’t tell you how old he was though because I never cared enough to find out) and I was on a contraceptive pill that gave me crazy mood swings. He was really excited to cure my depressive episodes but as soon as I came off the pill and felt better I realised I didn’t need the baggage of having a boyfriend. I rang him up, trying to contain the excitement in my voice, and told him I wanted to go out and party and have fun alone. He was pissed off to say the least and subsequently deleted me off everything. I went out on a mad one. He wanted me to say it to him face to face but I told him there was no point and hung up. Soz Gary xx



Being dumped is never much larks, though one ex-boyfriend really stuck the knife in by dumping me, in my bedroom, on Valentine’s Day. We’d been going out for three and a half years, so it wasn’t really serious. Oh wait. As no great V Day starts, we’d been bowling at Rowan’s in Finsbury Park. On the way home, as we contemplated a booze run, he started “a conversation”. I was availing myself with dignity, by which I mean my voice was growing increasingly high-pitched. Then I asked the question: “Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

After the dust settled, it was almost funny to tell people my boyfriend had broken up with me after I’d used a line from Legally Blonde. Google it. Oh and another time someone dumped me in the rain and then when we were saying our final farewell, a taxi drove past and doused me with a sheet of water. I thought that only happened in films.