If breaking up is hard to do, it's even harder to write about.
If I approached this column like I did actual breakups, the column would be blank.
Like most guys, when it comes time to break up, I run. I'm not proud of it, but it could be worse.
My friend, let's call him Pat Sullivan, didn't have the guts to break up with his girlfriend, so he planted some panties around his apartment to fool her into thinking he was cheating. That way, he thought, she'd break up with him. Only she didn't want to break up. So then he had a "license to cheat," which he undoubtedly used.
I've run for a lot of reasons. Some relationships ended for Seinfeld-esque shallow reasons -- she asked me what I thought of the movie immediately after it was over. Others ended for more tragic reasons -- she wrote me too many love letters from Texas.
As a marathon runner, it was fitting that I ran from some relationships because of the long distance. In fact, any separation of more than three miles usually warrants a breakup.
I should have run from my last relationship.
