Courtesy of Ruthie FriedlanderPhoto: Courtesy of Ruthie Friedlander
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowI've had three categories of breakups in my life. The "holy shit this sucks and I don't know how long this is going to suck for but I feel like my limbs are being ripped from my body" breakup, the "wow, I'm so relieved that just happened" breakup. And then there was my breakup last year.
More From ELLEExactly a year ago I had one of those earth-shattering breakups you only see in a movie, except that usually in the movie the girl ends up back with the guy, and that, I assure you, did not happen in my situation.
I'll spare you the dirty details, but I'll paint you the following scene:
Our relationship ended over the phone. I was in Miami Beach on an annual family vacation with 19 (count 'em) people, mostly women. I was the third youngest on the trip, so 17 people, save two of my cousins, had known me my entire life and upon hearing what was going on were figuring out where the nearest gun supply store was.
There were two days following the breakup where I was basically comatose. My mother bribed me with promises of trips to The Webster. My sister joked that there were "hotties at the swim-up bar" just waiting for me. I stayed in my bed. I wasn't even crying. I just was trying to breathe.
Finally I came to breakfast one morning. People looked at me like I was a piece of porcelain. I went to dinner that night, too. And I even talked a little bit.
I held my phone close to me the entire night, anxious to get some sort of news—news that this whole thing was a huge joke. Someone must be playing a huge practical joke on me. Instead, I just spent most of the night checking my Instagram.
"You should get a dog," my sister finally said. "Maggie makes me so happy every time I come home."
Maggie is my sister and her husband's 80-pound dog (not part Rottweiler, they swear!) and while she's a lovely creature, the idea of her in my 600-square foot apartment is terrifying.
"You should get a dog," my seven-year-old cousin agreed. "Puppies are so cute."
I wanted to punch my sister in the face.
Courtesy of Ruthie FriedlanderPhoto: Courtesy of Ruthie Friedlander
"Get a dog. Get a dog. Get a dog," she began chanting.
I explained that I didn't have a life for a dog. I didn't have the schedule for a dog or enough money. Maggie goes to a doggie day care, gets weekly manicures, and is walked three times a day. That mutt has a better life than I do.
I looked back down at my phone and refreshed my Instagram, praying there'd be something new to entertain me. This conversation was killing me.
"But I agree, Ru," my mother began, "Coming home to something that needs you could be really good for you."
Does someone have a small handgun, I wondered? I decided simply not to respond. Refresh, Lady Instagram, refresh! Finally, a new photo!
An editor I knew had just got a brand new kitten ("Ew" under normal circumstances, who likes cats? But in this case "Aw" because this thing was fucking adorable.) She'd just posted a new photo of creature. I stared down wondering if I had an eternally updated collage of photographs of this kitten, would my life just be easier? Better?
My sister grabbed my phone.
"ARE YOU TALKING TO HIM," she snapped. "Ew, are you looking at cats?"
My cousin, cat owner for 14 years, lit up. "Ruthie are you looking at cats! Oh my god, you should totally get a cat!"
I explained that cats go to the bathroom indoors, that they shed, that they spy on you, that you never know what they're thinking, and that in general, they're creepy. I assured her that her cat was fine, but that I grew up with a dog, and if I was ever going to get a pet, it would be a dog. Full stop.
Courtesy of Ruthie FriedlanderAdvertisement - Continue Reading Below