I would rather be dumped via text than taken out to dinner and dumped in person. There I said it.
Obviously, there are some caveats to this. If I’d been with someone for years and shared a mortgage, kids, and le Creuset pan set, then a text is not appropriate. I’m not a psychopath, dear reader. In those circumstances, a face-to-face conversation is required, possibly with a lawyer and a referee present.
But I am not in a long-term serious relationship. I am a casual dater with commitment issues, and in those circumstances, when the relationship is brand new, I am begging you, just send me a text. If our brief time together is over, I want to find out in the privacy and comfort of my own home, preferably wearing something elasticated and with access to the contents of my fridge.
Of course, this flies in the face of ancient dating lore which teaches us that it is a cardinal sin not to do the breakup in person, no matter how new the relationship. You owe them “that much” apparently. It should be done face-to-face, with lots of eye contact, a calming tone, and reassuring platitudes you don’t mean. That’s the “ideal way” to watch your romantic future go up in smoke. I am not convinced.
Maybe it’s the neurodivergent in me, but being dumped in person has always felt like a psychological ambush rather than an act of respect, especially if you didn’t see it coming. This has happened to me on more than one occasion and what’s worse, it was done in a restaurant, in front of witnesses. I had to scramble to remain calm and under control when my entire nervous system had just been torched. When all I wanted to do was stuff breadsticks up the swine’s nose, I had to calmly nod along and reassure him that I was ok. How dare he think this was the kinder option!
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to crawl under the table and stay there until closing time. Denied! Common decency dictates that you remain composed during a dumping and say things like, “well, I appreciate your honesty” when what you really want to do is commit an atrocity. Then there is a humiliation of knowing that the waiting staff know exactly what is going on. I’ve worked those tables when I was a waitress. We called them “dumpers” and they were always a nightmare to deal with. (I’ve seen the person doing the dumping insist on splitting the bill more than once). The service staff might be moving around the table with professional aloofness, but they know. They all know.
A text message, by contrast, offers what must be one of its best features; privacy. I can absorb the contents in my own time. I can have an honest reaction to it and then call a friend and give it the raw, unfiltered reaction a breakup deserves. I can swear and call the sender of said message all the names under the sun without worrying that I am upsetting people who have come in for the early bird menu. I don’t have to suffer the indignity of emotionally falling apart in front of someone who has decided that he needs space to focus on his Bitcoin investments.
Yes, a text means you can’t have an in-depth conservation about their decision, but why the hell would you want to? What is there left to say to someone who wants to give you the boot? “Yes, I’d like to look at the dessert menu?” God no. Just block them on every platform, from WhatsApp to Vinted, and move on with your life. It’s scorched earth time. Doesn’t that feel better than sobbingly begging someone to reconsider in a Toby Carvery?
A decent breakup text should be clear, final, and with limited gif use. It doesn’t have to be drawn out. It doesn’t have to use emojis, but it can be considerate and direct, and that’s best for all concerned. Let’s not confuse physical presence with consideration. When written with care and clarity, a breakup text can be much kinder than forcing someone to manage both their own and the dumper’s emotions by doing it in person. You can grieve without having to perform a socially acceptable grief. You don’t have to try and find your own way home or explain to the people on the bus why you’re crying because you’re already home.
A breakup text may not be romantic. It may not be traditional. It may not satisfy the etiquette committee who believe that looking someone in the eye makes the heart ache less, but it does give me the most valuable thing you can have in a breakup; somewhere private to be devastated.
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