Saturday, September 30, 2006


For some time now, Richard and I have been thinking about writing a book together called How not to pull, How not to get laid and How to get dumped. We are each drawing on our own areas of special expertise - Richard, a past master in how not to pull and how not to get laid, and myself the bees-knees on getting dumped. To be honest, if your chat-up lines include telling a Claudia Schiffer lookalike your A-level results, or informing a gorgeous Danish girl that Danes take out more library books than any other nationality, then you're asking not to pull.

And my bit's easy too. Normally I can get dumped as easy as pie. In the days before digital cameras, I could easily get dumped before I even got the holiday pictures back. People have dumped me by email, fax, text and phone. They've dumped me in person. They've dumped me by not calling. One dumped me at the Ikea check-out. Another dumped me by emigrating. When I got back from a weekend away, the cupboards were bare and he'd moved to Spain. Then when I moved to Spain, he moved back to the UK again. He said it might be a record, emigrating twice to get away from me.

In June I went on my first-ever romantic mini-break. All I can say about it was that if that's what romantic mini-breaks are like, I don't want to go on anymore! It was mini, and I guess it was a break but it certainly wasn't what I call romantic. I was dumped in the first two minutes. He said he'd fallen in love. I asked when? (slightly surprised as it was only two days since we'd spoken) and he said: Yesterday.

And then, of course, there was Pau. He made sure I got all the dumping practice I needed by dumping me constantly. On, off, on, off, on, off. It was like dating a light switch.

So, dumped. Soooooooo dumped. I am a dumpee.

But it's been a good few months since I last got dumped and while Richard has been going great guns with his side of things - hasn't pulled, hasn't got laid, despite strenuous efforts on both counts - I was getting a little bit worried about my part of the bargain. Fact is, I met someone truly wonderful - witty, clever, tall, gorgeous. He liked me, I liked him. He laughed at my jokes AND he fancied me. My god, it looked as if it might work out. Not easily, but possibly. I didn't dare tell Richard - he was doing so well! And I was with someone who might not dump me!!!

Well, rest assured, dear reader. All is fine. Everything fell into place and I got dumped this morning. So, quite relieved. While Richard is out and about this evening conducting further field research, I'm sitting at home drafting a few chapters of our book.

I don't want to give too much away but ultimately it's all about choices. If you want to get dumped (and who doesn't!), then make some bad choices. Choose someone unavailable, unattainable. Choose someone unstable. Choose someone married. Or, my personal favourite, choose someone with Asperger's.

And if all else fails, just choose Pau. He's a dead cert for a dumping. Muaks right back at you. xx