Written By: Stefanie S.There exists an unspoken rule about Friday being the day for lay-offs. I can personally vouch for the credibility of that statement-- thank you, recession. But in truth, it makes sense. The immediate onset of the weekend provides mild comfort from professional woes. More so, would you want to be that optimistic investment banker ironing five shirts over the weekend only to use one? Didn’t think so.
Interestingly enough, experience and subsequent nostalgia have lead me to believe that Sunday is the assumed day for breaking-up.
Every memorable relationship I have ever had has ended on a Sunday: all high school boyfriends, my long term in college, as well as my more recent relationships. I have been both the Sunday dumpee and the dumper, but more so the first (much to my dismay), which goes to show that I am not the only one supporting this theory. I even took a survey of my friends and roommates, which confirmed Sunday as the official wrecking day.
Example 1: Me as the Dumper
It was a Sunday in June. We had gone out that Friday night, which apparently was our 6th date because he kept track as if it was miniature golf, and with him, there were no do-overs or practice swings. We were very different people-- I, the adventurous, sushi-loving, go-getter and he the 'I'll just have a plain hamburger, let's go bowling' guy. Despite our differences in personality, he was a good guy. A really good guy: thoughtful, hard-working and very kind. However, that can only take a relationship so far.
That particular Friday night date began my breaking point. Not only did my roommate confirm that he was completely wrong for me, but the date screamed the same thing. All he did was talk about work. Then, rather than going to a bar to watch the Mets game, he insisted on watching it from my couch where he proceeded to talk as John Maine pitched. Anyone who knows me understands that is a huge no-no.
Later that evening he decided to bring up the topic of "us." I reminded him that from the very beginning I said that I wasn't looking for an intensive commitment. He said he understood, but kept reiterating how many dates we've been on and where he thinks "we" should be going. I just kept thinking about when he would be going...
Despite the fact that I had told him I was going to be away for the rest of that weekend and wouldn't be around my phone, he texted me incessantly. Notice the pattern of hearing, but not listening? Enter the breaking point. One of the texts he sent said that I had no right to ignore him, along with some other words about me needing to make a decision of committing to him or not. The decision made itself. When I got home that Sunday night I called him and gave him the news that he just wasn't going to make the cut.
Example 2: Me as the Dumpee
We had been seeing each other for several months. He worked a lot, but we did the best we could to maximize the time we spent together. As always, I tried not to wear my heart on my sleeve, but when my shirt hit the floor on our first date, I knew it was long gone.
Things were progressing well--meeting each others' co-workers and friends and even spending New Years together. We were both at pretty low points in our respective professional lives: I, out of a job, and he exceedingly overworked. However, when were together there was an overarching sense of collective good...or so I thought.
One fateful weekend we had tried to make plans, but his work schedule wouldn't let that happen. But I was OK with it. Just knowing he thought of me while he was at work was good enough. Yeah, I liked him that much.
In lieu of the attempted weekend plans, he told me he was going to come to my part of town so we could have drinks. Sign number one of the impending heartbreak. It was Sunday. He had been working all day, tomorrow would start a new week of work-hell and he was coming to my part of town, which he rarely did.
He arrived. Didn't want to come to my apartment, but instead wanted to meet me at the restaurant. Sign two.
He didn't order food at the restaurant, just drinks. Sign three. That spoke for itself.
Sparring the details, he ended it that Sunday night. He cited that his work schedule couldn't lend him the time he needed to grow the relationship with me that he wanted. Gotcha, you'd rather not see me at all than once a week...sure.....
The reason for Sunday? Maybe we all gravitate toward Sunday as the day because we innately know that the work-week (except in my recessionary-case) will serve as a distraction? Or maybe it's just that the proverbial shit always hits the fan on the supposed-Holy Day? Could be either. Either way you have to wonder....is it a coincidence that trash gets picked up Monday mornings?
