How I Perfected the Holiday Breakup
· Vice
Where should you break up with someone? Look it up (or ask an AI, as thousands of witless twats are doing right this second) and you’ll see the same list of locations. The humble park bench, for example. I’ve had that one. I actually presumed we were going on a picnic, so I wore a dress. It was listed on Depop the next day.
Another favorite is the dumpee’s house. Not only can you easily escape, but it’s nice to take a final look around and remember why you’re doing this. Yes, Blu-Tacked posters are juvenile for a 27-year-old. No, it’s not normal to have a “phlegm pot.” Another common recommend is a parked car, though I’d add it would be more fun if the vehicle were moving. Risky, but cinematic. Like if Ken Loach got to do one of the Fast and Furious movies.
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Those are all pretty boring though, and life’s too short for it to be boring—even the sad bits. So I’ve got an exciting alternative, for those who dare: a holiday. Drag them far, far away from their familiar environment and drive the whole “make or break” thing to its logical end. Choose the destination breakup. Choose breaking up over Continental breakfast. Choose “break.”
Look: In my defense, I never knew I’d be breaking up with someone before I booked the holiday. What I’m about to say may seem callous. It is all hard-earned from experience.
Step 1: Consider the Destination
There’s a whole world of breakup destinations out there, all presenting different kinds of openings. Backpacking around Thailand? I’d say the opportune time would be when they’re three days deep into gastric flu thanks to an ill-advised pork brains skewer. Tenerife all-inclusive: that amateur production of Mamma Mia advertised in the lobby means you can sit in silence for two hours with piña coladas on tap. Shepherd’s hut (glorified shed) in the Cotswolds. I had the opportunity to do that one but I wasn’t as much of a cunt back then.
As I’ve learned, a villa somewhere in remote rural France is the real gentleman’s choice. It’s not too far to travel back from with a broken heart. They can chain smoke and write poetry in public without anyone judging them. He got to lark about in the pool (often forcing me to watch like he was a 13-year-old on an all-inclusive) and drink copious amounts of beer while lapping up the sun. Minus the earth-shattering events that took place, he should be grateful.
It doesn’t matter how lovely somewhere is. if you’re there with someone you hate, it’s no better than Fritzl’s basement.Step 2: Let the Setting Do the Work
Each destination also brings its own specific challenges. Tests, if you like. Can he order a beer in French? No. He points at someone else’s “bière” (it’s literally the same word) and says a feeble “sil vous plaît.” It was already futile, but he’s minus a point for that one. Repeatedly doing an impression of Jools Holland? There go another five.
Can he pull off having a large mosquito bite slap-bang in the middle of his forehead? How does he deal with the heat? Does he take it in his stride because after all, it’s only 26°? Or does he complain incessantly, insisting on ice packs in the bed as if being a bit hot is like contracting an incurable disease? How does he react when the local supermarket doesn’t sell his preferred brand of sourdough? When you put on Robbie Williams’ seminal biopic Better Man, in which the star is played by a CGI chimpanzee, does he fall asleep halfway through, “knackered” from whatever being a running micro-influencer entails? Nothing brings out people’s true colors like being out of their comfort zone. Let life provide the answers.
When he conducted a quiz in character as Jools Holland. It was easier than actually talking to him.Step 3: Convince Yourself It’s the Right Thing to Do Via Any Means Necessary
By that, I mean you should commit some kind of transgression in advance. Not full-blown cheating, but sexting, perhaps? You’ll certainly feel guilty. But you’ll also realize that you wouldn’t have sent a picture of your tits to a rapper from the Midlands if you really liked your boyfriend. By that logic, you should definitely dump him. It’s actually quite noble. Divine intervention, of sorts.
I’d recommend archiving the WhatsApp chat with the rapper (or adjacent figure) fairly quickly, though. Probably don’t oblige when subsequent requests for a snap of your bum come in. That’s beyond the pale. Obviously you’re not noble enough to admit what happened, but you’re not completely morally reprehensible.
Ice cream sundae eaten a few hours before he arrived. The ostensible end to the holiday being enjoyable.Step 4: Largely Ignore Them
Treat them like you’re a vet and they’re a dying pet. You know what’s coming, they sense it, but no one has acknowledged it yet. When it inevitably does happen, you don’t want them to say they didn’t see it coming. They saw it coming.
When you hear their taxi arrive, the wheels crunching on gravel, don’t rush to greet them. Wait until your friends insist. Then offer a feeble hug and redirect the kiss to your cheek.
Have at least four books packed. What was that? You want to talk to me? I’m actually reading this really exciting bit of dystopian feminist fiction. I think the flood is a metaphor for patriarchy.
You want to have sex? I’m locked into Dune Messiah, sorry. I know I said it was quite dense, but once you get past the weird terminology, it’s actually really entertaining. Yeah, I’ll probably read Dune Messiah and then get some shut-eye I reckon.
You want a picture together? It seems I’m reading a French cookbook. No, I can’t make out many of the words, but some are quite obvious. Baguette is the same. The pictures are nice too.
Step 5: The Conversation
When it comes to doing the deed, think back to what David Attenborough is always banging on about: make sure your prey is weak. Strike when they’re vulnerable.
As they emerge from the shower, for instance. Just as they’re gearing up for another day of bonding on the Kent coast (forcing them to watch your favourite sitcom and noting whether they get it), you’re there in prime position, packing your bag. It’s evocative. There’s a towel around their waist, but they’re spiritually naked. The actual words needn’t be exchanged.
If your destination is more than an hour away from where you live, you’ll need more drastic measures. Namely: having realized that you couldn’t possibly withstand another three nights in the French countryside, sneak off and covertly change your flights home to the next day. Announce the news when he asks if you want to pop into the local village for supplies. No, there’ll be no freshly baked tresse au chocolat today. Maybe if you ate fewer tresse au chocolat, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
If you’re not on the kind of all-inclusive where you can hide behind am-dram productions of Mamma Mia, it’s imperative to work in “you time.” getting up at the crack of dawn and walking to the local village can buy you this.Step 6: Manage the Aftermath
The main downside of the destination breakup? Normally, you can’t just leave. There’s the train ride home: somber for them, borderline euphoric for you. If you’ve gone further afield, there’s usually one more night to endure before your Ryanair home. At that point, it’s time to put down Infinite Jest and create a hospice-like environment. You want them to remember you fondly. As if you haven’t just upended their life while they’re five hundred miles from home.
A conciliatory viewing of Layer Cake. Obviously he’ll never be able to watch Layer Cake again, but the thought is there. What a cracking film Layer Cake is. How about a conciliatory martini? You must feel like James Bond right now. I’m your Léa Seydoux. Well, until we board separate flights tomorrow. But let’s not think about that now.
Conciliatory martinis—I wonder if he can still drink ONE without crying?Step 7: Consider That, Maybe, This Actually Makes You a Better Person
I’m not saying it’s nice. It definitely wasn’t nice to nickname him James “Composite” Bond because of his missing tooth. I mean, it was really funny when you came up with it as he emerged from the pool that one time. (See? I’ll remember bits of our holiday quite fondly). But it’s not about being nice, is it?
If you’ve decided on the destination breakup, you’ve already done away with social convention. Obviously you could wait until the holiday is over. You could let him buy you an overpriced Burger King at arrivals and then let him down gently when you’re back on home soil. That’s probably the “right” thing to do. But life is fucking short. What do you gain from being a martyr? He and his friends will think you’re a cunt for the rest of eternity, but your mates won’t. They witnessed the Jools Holland impression.
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