Timeline Of Your Boyfriend Going On Spring Break Without You


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Nice Move

Boyfriend spring break

Having a boyfriend is great. You don’t have to shave as much. You have someone to take your anger out on. And you always have a built-in show discusser who is down to analyze the ins-and-outs of Frank Underwood’s evolving character. The downside, however, is that sometimes your plans don’t exactly align with your soulmate’s. Maybe you’re long distance, maybe you go to different schools, or maybe you both just decided to do your own thing this year. Whatever it is, this year he went on his own spring break trip, and you’re uh. Well, you’re not with him.

Despite the fact that my boyfriend and I have both graduated and have real jobs, we both went on spring break this year. Pathetic, right? Even worse — we didn’t go together. I went on a cruise with my coworkers, and he went on a guys’ weekend to the mountains in California. Sure, they were going to a national park but still. What if he fell off a cliff (what if he forgets about me)? What if his friends convinced him I was lame and he decides he wants to be single again (what if he forgets about me)? What if a hot ranger worked there and convinced him to stay there forever and leave me wondering what happened (what if he forgets about me)? No girlfriends, no cell service, and most importantly, no me for four days.

This sucks. So, like last time, to keep myself sane I documented the whole torturous journey. To any girlfriends out there, sitting at home as their boyfriend goes on spring break without them, just know you’re not alone. Except, of course, in the bedroom. And when you go out. And when you go to text him and he doesn’t answer because LOL at iMessage. Fuck us, right?

(No corrections to spelling/grammar were made after being written in my drunken state, so judge not lest ye haven’t typed dumb shit at 2 a.m. when you’re drunk AF)

Day 1: The Goodbye
This is it. Yet another four days without any contact with my boyfriend. You would think at this point I would be prepared for this, but I’m not. What if he falls in love with some other girl out there? Do they have strip clubs in national parks? WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME? I sniff back a set of tears as he gazes at me.

“I’ll miss you,” I mumbled, as he tossed his duffel bag into the Uber.

“Don’t touch yourself too much,” he smirks, as he kisses me on the nose and hops into the car.

No promises, sir.

Day 1: One Minute After The Goodbye
UGH. My heart is breaking. I hate goodbyes. Why *sob* does *sob* he *sob* always *sob* leave me? *sob sob sob*

Day 1: Two Minutes After The Goodbye
Might as well change into sweats, throw on a facial mask, load up Gossip Girl, and pop open some wine. He’s not coming back anytime soon.

Day 1: Dinner Time
So I’m sitting here in my rattiest underwear, watching my 5th hour of Gossip Girl, eating french fries and pizza, drinking from the bottle and stalking that girl I hate and I just realized: is this what it’s like to be single? This is wonderful! Not being forced to watch Fast and Furious 14: Kate Upton’s Nip Mishap or whatever is a gift in itself. And I can do all the gross things I’m never able to now. Hello leaving my dishes everywhere. Aloha dirty clothes in the living room. How are you, leaving the door open when I pee? How I’ve missed you all.

Day 1: Nighttime
How does an apartment make so much noise? Let me just give him a call, see if he’s still in cell phone range. Oh. You’re at an airport bar? Kill me now.

Day 1.5: Middle Of The Night
Woke up due to my phone buzzing. A text from him. At 3:32 a.m. Did some quick math to realize that means it’s 1:31 a.m. where he is.
“I love yuosooo much.”
Oh my God. He’s drunk. Across the country. At a bar. At 1 a.m. Be cool. Be cool. It’s fine. Normal girlfriends handle this. I’m calm. I’m rational. And I don’t care that sluts in California are the size of my right thigh and most likely have beautiful, blonde pubic hair. IT’S FINE OKAY IT’S FINE. Just going to put it on silent and pretend I never saw it.

Day 1.5: Middle-er Of The Night
Or should I text him back and pretend that I’m drunk and having a great time? I know I shouldn’t play games this late in my life but I also shouldn’t be alone during a postgrad spring break so like…I don’t know.

Day 1.5: Middle-er-er Of The Night
“Hiiiii i missss you toi” Nailed it.

Day 2: Weekend Morning
No morning boner? No “come back to bed”s? No begging for coffee or blowys? WHAT IS THIS LIFE?!!!

Day 2: Weekend Lunch Time
Haven’t heard from him since last night. It’s fine, though. I mean, who cares? I’m independent. I’ll just go to Target. Or get my nails done? Or stare at my phone waiting to see if I get a text? The world without a boyfriend is a world full of potential.

Day 2: Weekend Afternoon
God, I’m so bored.

Day 2: Weekend Late Afternoon
“Hi love. We’re driving to the cabin. Will probably lose reception soon. I sent you a Snapchat. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Love you.”
I hastily open the Snapchat, expecting something romantic. A heart made out of some type of rock formation? Him blowing me a kiss? Channing Tatum? Wait. No. What? It’s just fifteen seconds of trees. That’s it. Just trees. What does that even mean? I’ll text him something relaxed. Cool. Flirty to show that I get it and am in no way threatened by this time apart.

“Nice wood.”

Annnnnnd the text is green. Fuck.

Day 2: Weekend Night
Laying in bed is actually sort of sad without him. Sure, I get to spread out and no, I don’t have to fight for the covers. But I miss having a warm man-body next to me. And orgasms. Those were cool.

Day 2: Weekend Night, Later
Vibrator? Vibrator.

Day 3: Late-Morning
I guess I’ll just eat the three muffins from the back of my freezer. And don’t mind me while I make a trip to Krispy Kreme. As long as my boyfriend is getting lap dances from some slutty park ranger, I’m going to be getting carbs. (note: that might be the most pathetic, depressing comment I’ve ever made, but the fresh-out-of-the-oven glazed made it worth it)

Day 3: Lazy Afternoon
My limit is three donuts. That’s really all I have to update. No text. No sex. But a disgusting about of sugar and gluten.

Day 3: Dinner Time
I could continue my seventh consecutive hour of The Mindy Project and stalking his ex back to 2008 (nice hair, Jenny), but I think I’ll go out. I’m sure he’s pounding drinks and not thinking about me. How hard can it be?

Day 3: Night
Vodka cran. I wonder if any guys will buy me drinks. Shot. Do I even want guys to buy me drinks? Water. “Oh, for me? Thanks.” Free, disgusting shot. He isn’t nearly as cute as my boyfriend. Beer. Or as funny. Fireball. Ugh I missss himm. Grosser Beer. I wonder if hes thinking aboit me??? Shot. Fucking mountains. Tacos tacos tacos. God. Being single would suck. Water.

Day 3: Late-Night
Doi even have a boytrfined anymoree?

Day 4: Morning Of Return
Ah! Today is the day! I think. Unless he eloped with some hipster girl from Venice beach. I would have heard about that, though, right? Someone would have sent me some sort of text or some signal or something, right? That would be the polite thing to do. God. There’s no way I’m getting them a present.

Day 4: Getting Anxious Afternoon Of Return
Still no text or call. He could have at least invited me to the fucking wedding. This isn’t the way to end it with someone. Just saying you’re “going camping” and never come back. Who does that? The devil. And him.

Day 4: Even More Anxious Later-Afternoon
FINALLY! His name just popped up on my phone and I feel like a prepubescent girl who got knocked out in a dodgeball game by her crush. “Hi! I missed you so much! Do you think you can pick me up from the airport?” Dammit. No?

Day 4: Evening
After consulting with my mother, she told me that I do, in fact, have to pick my boyfriend up from the airport. “That’s just what a relationship is all about.” I feel like a relationship is about having something to post pictures of on social media and to make you feel better about that time your hairdresser dyed your hair ash blonde instead of honey blonde. “And wear a little makeup,” she said. “You don’t want to look like a boy the first time he sees you in almost a week.” Bitch.

Day 4: Dinner Time
Still haven’t answered his text. Maybe I want to make him sweat a little bit. Maybe I hope he changes his mind so I can watch some more “dumb” shows before he gets back. I know it’s wrong. But so is leaving your girlfriend stranded for years without any sort of contact. This is what it must have been like back in The Dark Ages. No wonder everything went to shit. Girls getting themselves off, no need for a guy. Guys running away to CAMP WITH THEIR MALE FRIENDS. I don’t know. Sounds like the end of civilization to me.

Day 4: Night
Ugh he texted again. Guess I have to do it. “Yeah I’ll totally come pick you up! No I don’t mind that you land at 1 a.m. and I have to wake up at 6 a.m. That’s what love is all about, right? And oh. Your flight was delayed until 2:30 a.m.? DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT BABE I DON’T NEED MY SLEEP OR ANYTHING.” *smiley face emoji*

Day 4: Late-Night
My alarm just went off at 2 a.m. and I lowkey want to die. Driving thirty minutes sounds like my actual hell right now. Annnnnd I pulled up into the wrong section of the airport. I’ll just tell him to walk the extra mile to my car. Fuck driving back around in the circle. Wait, is that him? Yeah! It is. Man, he actually is pretty good looking. And that smell! That delicious boy-smell. “No I didn’t mind picking you up at all,” fake smile. I better get a great effing Easter basket out of this.

Day 4.5: Return
“I missed you so much too! But if you even think of fucking touching me before my alarm goes off at 6 a.m. I’ll literally drive you back to the airport and leave you there.”

Ah. Reunited and it feels so mediocre. Cheers to having your social media props boyfriends back. We’re good until he goes home for the summer, and then heaven help us all.

(yeahokaywhat) Aspiring to be the next Tina Fey, Rachel spends her free time doing nothing to reach that goal. While judging people based on how they use "they're" vs. "there" on social media, she likes eating buffalo chicken dip, watching other people's Netflix, and wearing sweatpants way more than is socially acceptable. Hate mail and puppy videos can be sent to: rachel@grandex.co

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