Islander Recounts Typical Jersey Process After Leaving Girlfriend

NEWLY SINGLE MAN describes the typical breakup process in Jersey

Every day, islanders are jumping in and out of relationships like when the bath is too hot and you dip your foot in and then lurch back into the sink, smash the mirror and contemplate your existence in the shattered glass beneath your feet.

Recently, now-single islander Blake Dempsey has gracefully agreed to recount his experiences after splitting from his ex in the hope to ease the pain for fellow, newly single men and women alike.

Blake Dempsey describes his recent breakup:

“I’ve actually timed this to fucking perfection, because Fifa 18 is now out. So, as opposed to the £350 I was going to drop on a vacation to some typical Greek island with the missus, I’m dropping £100 on shoes from Roulette, £100 on a meal at Wildfire with the boys and the rest on Fifa points.”

“I don’t even think I’ve been this happy since Dominoes opened. Granted, that was only like 2 weeks ago, but it’s still the happiest moment I’ve experienced on this island.”

However, Dempsey admits that it hasn’t been an easy ride. Since leaving his girlfriend, he’s been getting abuse left right and centre from her female counterparts:

“Being in this situation and living on Jersey is sort of like being thrown into the Bear enclosure at Durrell with steak stapled to your nipples. I mean sure, you’ll be able to dart and hide from the bears for a bit, but as soon as you go into the feeding room at lunch time, the bears are going to ditch their Moo salads and overpriced yoghurt pots and go straight for your tasty, raw bollocks.”

Since the breakup, Dempsey has successfully reignited his ego and subsequently, his forgotten love with Mimosa:

“Never have I wanted to embrace the bouncers more at my beloved Mimosa. Fuck it, even if the bouncers don’t let me in with my Nike Airmaxes, I’ll just be happy to see their soft, silky faces as they point me to the yellow burger place and the taxi rank.”

“However, if (and that’s a big if) I do slide through the Mimosa gates, I am going for every single breathing human in that room, fuck gender, it’s 2017 and I pulled my mate Dan at The Weekender and it was quality.”

Dempsey went onto describe other parts of the process:

“Yeah fine you might feel a bit grim after driving them to have ‘the talk’ in some ‘quiet’ and ‘not at all murderous’ part of St Ouen. Or, if you’re especially dangerous, having the talk somewhere within their premises, where they have access to vicious cutlery, such as knives and pizza cutters.”

“Once that’s out the way, some people are faced with the immediate and soul-crushing notion of regret. This is merely your morals trying to claw their way back into to your soul.

Ignore them.

Contact the boys, or the galdem (women pals), because you’re now going out on a Tuesday night.”

Dempsey went onto explain that an islander’s life should begin to get easier after the initial despair and constant self-deprecation:

“You’ll have to ride out some uncomfortable times, such as the ‘mixed emotional-semi-psychotic text phase.’ Simply put, once the hate texts, the love texts and the promiscuous Instagram pictures have quietened down, your life should sort of fall back into its usual, less-than-impressive flow.”

One point Dempsey did raise was the typical ‘rebound’ process:

“It’s all good jumping into bed with someone straight after a breakup. In fact, it’s essentially island law. However, it’s wise to remember that Jersey is a small place and your ex may attempt to murder you, or disguise themselves as someone else in order to seduce you and drag you back to their lair and eat you with guilt sex and mayonnaise in some bullshit part of the island, like Gorey.”

Dempsey’s ending note reflected a somewhat pessimistic, though accurate future:

“In reality, you’re probably not as attractive as you thought you were, the lighting in Mimosa isn’t as great as you think and your new top from Voisons is definitely too tight. So, head back to your ex’s at 2am, have some bang-average sex and then rinse and repeat this process until you’re married with three boring children, and your only day of rest is when you drink to forget the present and wake up to vaguely remember the past.”

“Or, you know, just man the fuck up. Both work.”