How to Hack a Heartbreak

by Kristin Rockaway

  Her bedroom door slammed shut. With no other choice, I ran a bath.

  Before I left, I grabbed my gym bag. It was Thursday, which meant Krav Maga class after work. In light of last night’s debacle, I wasn’t sure if Lia was going to show, and if she did, I wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing me. But the Groupon was nonrefundable, their cancellation policy was strict, and I wasn’t about to throw away my hard-earned cash simply to avoid an awkward situation.

  My morning shift at work was soul-destroying, as expected. I unclogged two paper jams, replaced a broken keyboard, and fielded at least a dozen emails from people who said neither please nor thank you.

  Then, at 11:53, my phone buzzed with a Twitter notification. A direct message from jboogie2592: honestly, i’ve lost count, lol.

  I responded immediately: Ha. Anyone that stands out as particularly heinous, tho?

  jboogie2592: the most recent one would be alex, 26, fidi.

  Holy shit.

  This was it! The moment I’d been waiting for. Finally, I was going to find out exactly what she meant when she called Alex a “typical Fluttr douche.”

  My heart pounded in my ears, and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. Whatever I saw, I could never unsee, and as a result, my relationship with Alex could change, irreversibly. Did I really want to know all the details of her experience with him?

  Yes. Yes, I did.

  NYCTechGal: What did he do?

  After a minute passed by with no response, I realized I’d probably pushed my luck. If what JBoogie had with Alex was more than some meaningless Fluttr flirtation—if Alex had really hurt her—she wouldn’t be willing to pour her heart out about it to some random Twitter stranger. Not without a very compelling reason.

  So I decided to tell a little lie.

  NYCTechGal: Let me explain. I’m a PhD candidate in Sociology. The working title for my dissertation is “The Great Swiping Swindle: A Critical Examination of the Societal Impact of Dating Apps.” As part of my research, I’ve been interviewing women from around the country about their varied experiences with online dating and how their lives have been affected, both positively and negatively. All your information will remain completely anonymous and your contributions could help improve online dating for future generations.

  Like I said, it was shady.

  But it worked. Almost instantly, the bouncing ellipsis popped up, and thirty seconds later, her message appeared.

  jboogie2592: we dated kinda casually for a couple of weeks, then as soon as we had sex, he ghosted. he didn’t answer my texts or emails. he let my calls go to voice mail. it was humiliating.

  NYCTechGal: That’s awful. I’m sorry.

  jboogie2592: everyone’s been ghosted at some point, right? but it was the way he ghosted that sucked so hard. i didn’t see it coming. the whole time, he was like, ‘i really like you’ and ‘you’re so awesome.’ then suddenly we do it, and he’s gone.

  A queasy sensation swayed through me, roiling my guts and leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. My thumbs quivered as they typed: Ugh.

  jboogie2592: the worst part is there were so many signs that he was lying to me, and i just ignored them.

  NYCTechGal: Like what????

  jboogie2592: he had excuses for everything. always canceling at the last minute or getting pulled away by some work emergency. i get that he had a stressful job but there’s no way it consumed that much of his time. looking back on it, i bet he totally had a side chick. or maybe i was the side chick. whatever his deal was, he was an asshole. and i’m pretty sure everything he ever told me was a lie.

  This all sounded painfully familiar.

  Except he didn’t ghost me after the first time we had sex. On the contrary, he’d come back for more.

  Although, maybe that was just because we worked together. He had no choice but to see me every day; ghosting wasn’t an option. Maybe as soon as his time at Hatch was up, he’d pull a disappearing act.

  “Hey, Mel.”

  Speak of the devil.

  Alex was standing at the entrance to my cubicle. I did my best to keep calm, setting my phone facedown on the desk and smoothing my hair. “Hello.”

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Fine. Busy.”

  “I know what that’s like.”

  Of course you do.

  He drummed his fingers along the top of the cubicle wall. “What’re you doing for lunch?”

  “No plans.”

  “Can I take you out?”

  I cleared my throat. “No, thanks. I packed my lunch today.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he said, “You’d really prefer your peanut butter sandwich to a fresh bánh mì?”

  In fact, I wouldn’t, and it must’ve been obvious from the look on my face, because Alex added, “C’mon. It’s a gorgeous afternoon. Let’s spend it together.”

  The offer was tempting, but still, I was hesitant. “Can we expect another interruption from your business partner?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll go someplace he’ll never go.”

  We walked down Water Street in the afternoon sun, making our way to the Banh Mi Cart in Hanover Square. I tried to keep my distance, afraid to get too close, but Alex gently took my hand, threading his fingers through mine. I should’ve had the warm fuzzies from such a tender act. Instead, my mind wandered to JBoogie and all those things she’d said he’d done. The sweet talk, the lies, the disappearing act. Would he do the same thing to me?

  I wished I was more like Whit: exultant in my singlehood, unaffected by men and their bullshit. Then I could walk away from Alex, without thinking twice. There’d be no drama, no disappointment. No heartbreak.

  No matter how much I’d try to deny it, though, I did want a relationship, even if it took a lot of effort. And maybe that made me pathetic, but it was a natural feeling, wasn’t it? To want someone to share your life with. Entire industries were founded on that very premise. That’s why Fluttr was created. That’s why Vilma the matchmaker continued to make money despite her inability to actually make any matches. Because finding someone was hard, and we needed all the help we could get.

  But I’d already found someone. Despite my fears, Alex was sweet and charming and funny and hot, and I didn’t want to give up on him. I just needed to find out the truth.

  When we arrived at the food cart, we ordered two special baguettes with iced coffees and crossed the street to sit in the tiny pocket park, shaded by towering buildings and leafy trees. While Alex tore into his sandwich, I decided to do some totally nonchalant and unsuspicious investigative work.

  “So, when was your last relationship?”

  He nearly choked on his slow-roasted pork.

  “We’re having that conversation already?”

  “We don’t have to,” I said. “I don’t know why I asked it. Just making conversation, I guess.”

  “No, it’s okay. I was kidding.” He wiped his mouth with a thin paper napkin. “I haven’t really dated anyone very seriously since college, so it’s been about four years or so. What about you?”

  “Same. Nobody serious since college.” I sipped my iced coffee. “Although there was one guy I got involved with last year who seemed really into me. We dated for a couple of weeks and I thought things might get serious between us, but...”

  “But what?”

  I locked eyes with him. “He ghosted.”

  Alex immediately broke my gaze and shoved his baguette in his mouth, biting off a giant chunk of bread and meat.

  “Ghosting,” I continued, picking at a cilantro leaf poking out of the side of my sandwich. “I’ve never really understood it.”

  “What’s to understand?” he said, still chewing. “Sometimes things don’t work out between people. If one person wants to leave before things get too serious, why shouldn’t the
y?”

  “It’s fine to want to break up with someone. But disappearing into thin air and cutting off all communication without an explanation is really fucked up.”

  “Yeah, but then you don’t have to deal with some long, uncomfortable conversation. It’s just easier for everyone involved.”

  “Sure, it’s easy. It’s also cowardly.”

  He flinched. “I think that’s a little harsh.”

  “No. What’s harsh is completely abandoning someone after you’ve led them on and made them believe you could really care about them. At least have the common courtesy to say goodbye. To give them some closure. Otherwise, the other person is always left wondering, ‘What’s wrong with me?’”

  My bottom lip started to tremble and I stilled it with my fingers. When it came to dating, I always liked to pretend I could play it cool. If a guy ghosted or stood me up or otherwise hurt me, I said it was his own loss. He was a jerk, a loser, and I deserved better, so there was no point in wasting my tears.

  In reality, though, it was hard not to think that there was something inherently unlovable about me. That guys kept leaving because I was chasing them away. That I’d never find anyone who would love me the way I wanted to be loved. Alex included.

  “Mel.” He leaned toward me, arm outstretched. His thumb caressed my cheek and I looked into his big brown eyes. “I would never do that you. I told you, I’m in this a hundred percent. You and me—this is serious.”

  And though I wanted to believe every word that dripped from his beautiful lips, I couldn’t help but wonder: How many women had heard that exact same line?

  Of course, I didn’t say that. I just nodded, then peeled back the wrapper on my bánh mì and ate my lunch.

  After we finished eating, we walked back to the office, and I tried not to wallow in hopelessness. Instead, I grabbed Alex’s hand, squeezing it tight, reminding him that I was still there. He responded by pulling me close, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and nuzzling my neck. When we stopped on the corner of Wall Street to wait for the light to change, he leaned down and kissed me. It was so slow and sensual and seductive, I almost forgot we were standing in the bustle of midday foot traffic.

  Maybe I was simply being paranoid. Maybe it was all going to be fine.

  “Ow!”

  Alex jerked away and clenched his biceps, his face contorting in pain.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, then quickly saw the source of his anguish: Greg, walking backward through the crosswalk with a smirk on his face. He’d punched Alex in the arm as he passed by. Because that’s a fun thing to do to your coworkers, I guess.

  “I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his arm. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  As Greg disappeared into the crowd across the street, I could hear him yell, “Rico!”

  “What is his problem?”

  “He’s a dick,” Alex mumbled, then grabbed my hand and led me across the street.

  We parted ways in the elevator bank with a promise to text each other later. After that, my afternoon went by much the same way my morning had: tedious tasks, performed with a fake smile. Since I’d adjusted my attitude and stopped slacking off, Bob stayed off my back. As long as I got my work done and no one complained, he didn’t have a reason to bother me.

  Which gave me plenty of time to check in on JerkAlert. Ever since I saw those troublesome performance stats yesterday, I’d been logging in regularly to make sure everything ran without a hitch. I was still making minor tweaks to the code here and there to improve stability, and so far, I’d kept everything under control.

  At 5:15, I changed into my gym clothes and headed uptown to the Krav Maga Institute. The whole subway ride, I was a bundle of nerves, worried what was going to happen when I saw Lia. We’d never fought like this before. Would she still be mad at me? Would she even show up?

  My concerns were put to rest as soon as I walked into the gym, though. Lia was early as usual, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bright red mat. When she saw me, she waved, a sad little half smile on her face, and instantly, I knew she felt as sorry as I did about everything that went down last night.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, the moment I approached.

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. I jumped down your throat and attacked you for no reason.”

  “It’s fine. You were going through an unbelievably horrible thing.”

  “That’s not an excuse.”

  “But it’s really okay. Water under the bridge. All right?”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Shitty.”

  “Well, I’m happy you came today. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  “I have to get on with my life. What better way to do that than by kicking a grown man’s ass?”

  As if on cue, a stocky guy strolled into the gym in his bare feet, slowly rubbing his palms together. He wore this smug grin, like he owned the place. Which he probably did, but he didn’t have to be so cocky about it.

  “Ladies, ladies, ladies.” His accent was sexy, I’ll give him that. “My name is Tal. I’ll be your instructor today. Welcome to Krav Maga self-defense course.”

  About a dozen women sat in a semicircle on the mat. He studied our faces, making individual eye contact with each one of us. “It’s hard being a woman,” he said. “Men are disgusting. They prey on you, night and day. At any moment, you can be a victim, even in the middle of a crowded subway. Remember that thing going around the internet last week? The dick in the dark?”

  Oh, God.

  “If that woman from the video knew Krav Maga, she could’ve taken him out, no problem.”

  I begged to differ. There was no way I could’ve whipped out elaborately choreographed self-defense moves on that train. We were packed in like sardines. I could barely even turn my head. While Tal was undoubtedly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, he’d clearly never been held hostage by an unwanted penis on a rush-hour A train.

  “When you walk away today,” he continued, “you’re going to have the skills to protect yourself out there. Now, let’s get into a stance. Everybody on your feet.”

  For the next half hour or so, Tal walked us through basic Krav Maga techniques: jabs, kicks, blocks, that sort of thing. When he was done, he asked for a volunteer to help him demonstrate how to put it all together.

  Eager to kick some ass, Lia threw her hand up in the air.

  “You.” He pointed to her. “Come here, join me.”

  She leaped to her feet, practically giggling.

  Tal grabbed a target pad from the corner of the room and held it up in front of him. “Okay, to start, let’s try some downward hammer fists. Go!”

  Lia pummeled the pad with both hands.

  “Get up on your toe,” Tal said. She struck again. “Follow through. You’re not following through.” His voice was hostile, and I knew why. He was trying to agitate her. To get her to fight with every ounce of her strength.

  But I don’t think Tal quite understood what he was dealing with.

  “Is that all you got?” He taunted her while she continued to strike, harder and faster. Her cheeks grew bright pink, her breath became raspy. “Come on! Give me more! Pretend I’m that guy on the subway.” She hit him again. “That’s how you hit a predator? That’s nothing! Okay, then pretend I’m your boyfriend, and you just caught me in bed with another woman.”

  Lia’s eyes caught fire. She laid into the target pad with such force that Tal had to jump back.

  “That was a good one, finally,” he said. “I feel sorry for your boyfriend right now.”

  Wrong thing to say, Tal.

  In a flash, she ripped the target pad from his hands and tossed it across the room, then lunged at him, limbs flailing. Tal’s eyes went wide with surprise. For someone who wa
s supposed to have catlike reflexes, he’d been caught off guard pretty easily.

  It didn’t take him long to subdue her, though. He wrapped her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her side and catching her legs between his ankles. She cried, “Let me go, you piece of shit!” and then a burly guy emerged from the back office.

  “Tal, what’s going on?” he called.

  “I got a hellcat on my hands, Robbie!”

  “Don’t call me a hellcat!” she screamed, and jerked her head back so violently that the two of them collapsed to the mat in a heap.

  The room erupted in a collective gasp and Tal began to moan. I rushed over to Lia. “Are you okay?”

  She panted, dazed. “I...I don’t know what happened.”

  “Should we call an ambulance?” one woman asked.

  “No,” another woman replied. “Just stick a tampon up there—he’ll be fine.”

  I turned around to see Tal looking out of sorts, blood rushing from one of his nostrils. Robbie stood over him, unconcerned. “You’ll be fine, man.” He pointed to Lia. “But you? Gotta go.”

  Twenty minutes later, we were hunched over the bar at El Cantinero, downing flautas and margaritas with impressive speed.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” Lia said.

  “Don’t be. Tal had it coming. I mean, ‘hellcat’? Really?”

  She laughed and licked salt from the rim of her glass. “Men are ridiculous.”

  “Yeah.” I fiddled with a flauta. “Although, I’ve been behaving pretty ridiculously myself.”

  “Is this about what I said last night? Because I didn’t mean any of it, really. I’m so sorry I said all those terrible things to you.”

  “No. There’s something else.”

  And then I admitted to my Twitter exchange with JBoogie.

  “Whoa.” I couldn’t tell if Lia was impressed or terrified.

  “It’s shady, I know.”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely shady. But, really, what do I know? Look at the mess I’m in. I should’ve been more like you. Maybe if I’d Google stalked Jay early on in our relationship, I could’ve avoided all this drama.”