Hapless trio lie in their muddled beds, cheeks dotted with haphazard stubble. They peer through the shuttered windows, where blinks of dispersed light are seeping through. Their bodies feel alien and heavy with the intake of unnamable, addictive substances (No I don’t have any, go away now, what you trying to do get me deported in less than 90 days?). They contemplate the thought of going to school, college or work for less than a blink of an eye.
Trio: Naaaaaah (flips the blanket over his head, curls into a teary, human ball)
They put on the same tape or CD they’ve been listening to for the last 3 weeks, usually which is a mix of Hani Shaker for Arab lovers, peppered with Hamada Hilal and his infamous smash hit “Dayman domoo3” (Literally translated to “Always tears”) and other western songs such as “How could an angel break my heart”
Never mind the cultural, geographical, racial, and social differences, all the musical playlists will merge magically to the albums of a one, notorious band..
I TRIED SO HARD AND GOT SO FAR BUT IN THE END IT DOESN’T REALLY MATTER !!
You can’t go wrong with such lyrics.
Their parents are resigned to the notion that the broken-up with dudes’ are converted Satanists. They start looking in the yellow pages for psychiatric help.
The phone rings. Trio jump out of their beds hoping that it would be Heartless Bitch, sorry and regretful for the wrong she has done, but the cell phone clearly displays "Female Colleague".
Female Colleague is ever-supportive, you talk about your ex (without mentioning names), the racy things you did together with little embellishment. You contemplate the thought of rebounding with her, then you recall the snorting sound she makes when she laughs and dispose of the idea totally and completely.
Female Colleague: Where were you today? Why didn’t you come?
Trio: We’re tired, we didn’t feel like coming
FC: Guess who I saw yesterday in the café? That girl you took a course with, walked with (note she will never come out and openly say “That girl you dated”, Hell no!)
Trio: Is she the girl I dated?
FC(irked): I don't know the girl you dated. How would I know the girl you dated?
FC proceeds to do a funny “Oooooooooooooops!” face with her unseen face
Trio: Who was she with? What was she doing? What was she wearing?
FC: She was with some guy
Trio (panicking): Who is he? What was he doing? What was he wearing?
Trio (gulping): Was he touching her?
FC: I don’t know
Trio: Are you sure it's my ex-girl?
FC: Yeah the girl you dated
FC does real “Oooooooooooooops!” face with her face
Trio: You just said you didn’t know we dated.
FC: Ummmmm. Did I say that? Well, technically, maybe if we consider the fact..
Trio: I have to go. Bye
They speed-dial Best Friend’s number and propose the plan they’ve been formulating meticulously over the past 3 weeks
The plan’s name is “Revenge of the Miserably Broken Hearted”
Just as they are about to inquire where they can get some good shovels from.
Trio: Hey man, did you know that my girl was going out with some guy?
Best Friend: Ummmmmmmmmm.Errrrrr…Well,,,,mmmmmm….no
Trio: What’s with all stalling? Swear on your mother’s honor that you did not now.
Best Friend: Ok I knew.
Trio: FUCK YOU @#$#@ *beep* *beep* KUSS UKHT SHIKLAK *further beep beeps*
Whatever progress marked in those 3 weeks, will go unmarked. The pain and anguish resurfaces as if you broke up 5 minutes ago.
Then they realize another sorry reality.
It wasn’t her, it was them all along.
Breaking up is tough. But they’ll be fine. Just like many people before them, and after them will be fine.
As long as they keep that plan tucked in the deepest, darkest depths of their minds, and conjure it every once in a while with an evil smirk on their faces. Or they’ll end up sharing a cell with a big, black dude named Bubba, who we will not say what he likes to do when it gets dark.