When You Want Your Girlfriend Back, Making a Christmas List is Actually Easy

John started this site because he got dumped by his girlfriend, the girl he thought (and still thinks) he's going to marry. He doesn't have his girlfriend back yet, but he's going to document his day-by-day efforts to win her heart back, even if it takes him 19 years to do it.

To the 83 people that have asked me "John, WTF, did you give up? What the hell is wrong with you, do you have AIDS? A tapeworm? Are you sick? Are you dying? You need to update your blog so we can keep track of you and your never ending efforts to get your girlfriend back," I say, you're in luck because a lot has happened in the past 13 days. 

I tried cooking for the first time. The most complicated thing I've made in the past two years is a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Two weeks ago, I tried to make a maple-glazed salmon. Unfortunately, you're going to have to wait a few days to read about how I  charred an expensive glass dish, almost set the oven on fire and forgot to include a side dish with the meal. But it will be worth the wait. 

Today, I'm keeping things simple. It's December 1, which means Christmas, Christmas lists, Christmas presents, Christmas trees, Christmas everything. Think about it, everything is better with the word Christmas in it. 

That homeless guy that just stole the hubcap off your car and tried to set you on fire, if he was drunk on egg nog and wearing a fun Christmas sweater, then who cares. 

On December 1, 2009, John had a Christmas tree, a stocking filled chimney and an incredibly hot girlfriend...

This picture, taken on December 1, 2010, shows how helpless John is without his girlfriend. Instead of a Christmas tree and stockings, John now  has a trampoline, three blankets and uneven blinds. He really needs his girlfriend back. 

Anyway, while watching the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show last night, I made a Christmas list: 

Dear Santa, 

I would like  two things for Christmas:

1. I want my girlfriend back. 

2. If I can't have my girlfriend back, then I would like a vegetarian Panda Bear cub who is potty trained, not from China and likes to watch Sponge Bob Squarepants. 

That's it, 

Love, 

John

P.S. Santa, number two is a lie, I know panda's are an endangered species and I could get thrown in jail for owning one and you could be sentenced to 45 years in the slammer for delivering one. Which would mean 45 years of no Christmas, which would shoot Arbor Day  into the Holiday top 10 and we obviously can't have that. So let me make this simple Santa, all I want for Christmas... how about I just cue up Mariah Carey (and of course, you'll have to insert "my girlfriend back" for "you" to have this song make sense in the context of this post): 

Why Do I Want My Girlfriend Back? Because of Spring Break 2005 **UPDATE** Picture of Duct Taped Car Added

If Duct Tape had not been invented, this picture would have never been taken. 

John started this site because he got dumped by his girlfriend of four years. He doesn't have his girlfriend back yet, but he's going to document his day-by-day efforts to win her heart back, even if it takes him 19 years to do it.


On a side note, many people have been saying, "John, what is wrong with you, if you really want her back, you should be updating this blog every minute of every day." 


Here's the deal: Although the reaction to this blog has been 98 percent positive, a few of John's family and friends feel that constant updates about his quest to get his girlfriend back might make things a little overbearing for the girlfriend. Obviously, John created this site to get  his girlfriend back, not chase her away. With that in mind, he'll be posting 'why do I want my girlfriend back' memories twice a week. Besides that, you'll also get one update every two weeks on how the chase is going. 


Thanks to everyone for reading, and hopefully you're still around when John writes his last post, "How I got my girlfriend back."

Do you want to hear a romantic story about a girl, a boy and a duct taped car? Well you've come to the right place then.

First, in case you've failed to look at any pictures in this blog, let me point something obvious out: I'm a guy. When it comes to going on long road trips with girls, there are two things that go through all guys heads: no stopping for directions (or for peeing, buying tampons, getting food or any reason that does not involve filling the car up with gas) and the girl does not get to drive.

I was no different. But then again, Melissa didn't want to drive to Florida, so we both got what we wanted.

In March 2005, we left Oxford, OH with our sights set on a spring break in Sarasota, Florida. Little did we both know that the 10 hour drive was going to turn into a 17-hour trip that only the Donner Party could appreciate.

When we left Ohio, it was snowing.

I'm a guy, so not only can I drive through snow, but I can drive through volcanic explosions, tsunami's and tornadoes, Mother Nature can do nothing to stop me when I'm behind the wheel. OK, actually she can, that's why there's a story here.

One hour into the trip, we were on I-75 in Kentucky, only Kentucky looked like the North Pole. If we were being led my reindeer and riding in a sleigh, we would have been through Kentucky in 40 minutes, but we were in a car and the tire tread was balder than Mr. Clean's head.

Everyone on the highway was going 40, I was going 60. Sixty is not a speed you should go when driving through 4-inches of snow. As Melissa began to doze off, I put my hand across her chest. I think she thought I was trying to pull the move (You know, fake a crash or slam the brakes so you can grab a girl's boobs, that move, there was an entire Seinfeld episode about this). I could read her mind and immediately, I said, "Melissa, I'm not doing the move, I think we're going to crash."

Before I could get the word "crash" out of my mouth, the car started spinning. We spun three times and hit the guardrails on both sides of the highway. After about 13 seconds, the car came to a complete stop on the right side of the road, off the highway, which was a good thing, because had we come to a stop on the highway, you wouldn't be reading this blog, because my body parts would be splattered on I-75 in Kentucky.

Anyway, we both got out the car to investigate the damage and to decide if we should go home or continue to Florida. Here's the conversation that happened:

Melissa: John, I think the hood's gone. (She said this as she stared at the engine, which was not covered by the hood, because the hood was in fact gone)

John: Yea, the hood is definitely gone, lets put that in the "why we shouldn't go to Florida" column.

Melissa (Who really wanted to go to Florida): If the lights work, we could probably still go, right? Try the lights, try the lights. 

John (I walk to the car and try the lights). 

Melissa: Headlights work! Brake lights work! Rear lights Work! That's three reasons in the "Why we SHOULD go to Florida" column. It's three-to-one.

While Melissa cheered that the lights worked, I put out an Amber Alert for the Hood of the car because it was still missing. It took me five minutes to find it. The semi-shocking part: the hood was in good shape, the only thing wrong with it was that it was detached from the car, which in Melissa's eyes was a very minor problem.

Melissa: I have some duct tape in the trunk, do you think we could use that. 

John: Duct tape, for what? What are we going to do with it? Make mittens and a wool hat so we don't freeze to death? 

Melissa: No, to the put hood back on silly.

Forty-five minutes and a stop at a gas station later, the hood was back on. MacGyver himself couldn't have done a better job. Not only did we have to duct tape the hood back on, but we had to take care of the brake lights too. The plastic covering that makes the brake lights red had shattered and it's illegal to drive a car without red brake lights, which I knew because I have about seven tickets from seven different officers that all said: fix your brake lights dumb ass.

As if she had been planning for this moment her whole life, Melissa pulled out some red plastic wrap and said, "Make this work because I want to go to Florida." I made it work because we wanted to go to Florida.

Now, the one problem with a duct taped hood (besides the fact that it's completely illegal and unsafe to drive a car with a duct taped hood ) is that you can't drive over 45 MPH or the hood will fly off (we learned this twice). So starting in Southern Kentucky and continuing through Tennessee and Georgia and into Florida, we had to drive 45 MPH. By the time we got to Georgia, it was 65 degrees and there was no snow. But we were still driving 45 MPH.

People honked at us the whole trip. We didn't know if they were honking because our car was so awesome or because we were driving so slow.  Either way, spring breaking girls showing their boobs don't get honked at as much as we did.


To make a long story short, we made it to Florida safely. When our friend Brad saw the car, he was literally in shock. The only statement he could muster, "We should probably have a lot of fun on this trip, because I'm pretty certain you guys should be dead."

If it wasn't for Duct Tape, John and Melissa would have never made it to Florida and this picture would have never been taken which means that John would not have been able to squeeze Melissa's butt. Brad, the owner of the peeing cat, is on the left. 

As for the rest of the Spring Break, Brad's cats peed on all of my clothes, so I wore Melissa's. I don't think either of us remember everything that happened in Florida, but I think we both could tell you every detail of the drive down to the sunshine state.

After we wrecked the car, the easy, safe and smart thing to do would have been to turn around and go home. But Melissa wasn't about to let that happen. That's why she's one in a billion, that's why I want my girlfriend back.

Spring Break 2005 is one of only a million reasons why I want my girlfriend back.

By the way, I'm trying to hunt down a picture of the car, there are only 3 known ones in existence. If I find it, I'll put it up.

**Update: a picture of the car has turned up. And yes, we drove the vehicle below from Ohio to Florida and then back to Ohio without getting arrested for anyone of the 57 laws we were breaking**

The only thing keeping the hood on the car? Duct tape. Lovely, precious duct tape.

Why Do I Want My Girlfriend Back? Because of the 2006 NCAA Championship Game

John started this site because he got dumped by his girlfriend of four years. He doesn't have his girlfriend back yet, but he's going to document his day-by-day efforts to win her heart back, even if it takes him 19 years to do it.


Many people might be wondering, "John, she dumped you, so why do you want her back?" To answer that question, John will feature a fun, short memory, two or three times a week that will probably make you want her too. 


For most people, Monday's suck, but not for me.


In the early months of 2006, Monday was absolutely my favorite day. The plan with  my girlfriend was simple: watch 24 from 9-10 p.m. and take shots of tequila every time Jack Bauer killed someone, sing Karaoke at a bar from 11 until close [pictured below] and then head home for a bedroom party where clothes were optional. It was perfect every week. 

As you can plainly see, John can't sing and Melissa can't dance, well, except for the horizontal mambo.

On Monday, April 3, 2006, there was a change of plans. Our friend Brad called up and said he had two extra tickets to the NCAA Championship game (UCLA vs. Florida). I didn't even have to ask Melissa if she wanted to go, she was practically in the car ready to leave for Indy before I even got off the phone. I hadn't seen her that eager to do anything since the first time we slept together. 


Now that I think about it, I probably should have put a ring on her that night. Not many girls in the world will drive two hours on a whim to go to a game involving two teams that neither of you care about. 


We had exactly $200 in our pockets (the tickets were $150 for both, so really we had $50), and about 99 ideas for fun things to do when we got there. The only problem is that 98 of those things cost money. We briefly entertained the idea of selling our 1997 Honda Civic, but the highest offer we got was $19. 


Since neither of us were fans of either team, on the way to Indianapolis we decided that Mel would be a Florida fan and I would be a UCLA fan. My thought process was that most of the female students at Florida are hot, so Melissa would fit right in. On the other hand, I have a latino look, so we knew I would fit right in as a UCLA fan (That's right UCLA, we're all thinking it, 91 percent of your student body is latino). 

If John looks fat in this picture, it's because in 2006, he ate only cheetos and Taco Bell. He has since changed his diet. If Melissa looks great in this picture, it's because she looks great in every picture. 

Oh, and to prove we were fans of our respective teams, we had to buy t-shirts. T-shirts are not cheap at the Final 4. After we hit the t-shirt stand, our $50 budget was quickly down to $10.  Melissa's t-shirt was a kids extra small and probably cost 12 cents to make, but they still charged her $20. 


Although the game ended up sucking horribly (Florida won in a blowout), we still had a ton of fun. We took our $10 we had left and bought some popcorn, which in hindsight, was actually stupid because our car only had two-fifths of a tank of gas left. But that's how we've always operated, we were the Clint Eastwoods of fun. Eastwood would "shoot first and ask questions later," whereas Melissa and I would "have fun now, figure things out later." 


We sat in the top row of the RCA Dome. If you've never watched basketball live in a Dome, it's like watching grasshoppers have sex: you have no clue what's going on. Melissa made friends with the old people sitting next to us. By the time the game was over, Melissa was such good friends with them, that to this day, I am 99 percent certain that she's in their will. 


We bet a bottle of liquor on the game, so obviously, as the UCLA fan, I lost. Then I demanded a double or nothing bet on what time we would get back to Cincinnati. I lost that too. I then wanted a triple or nothing bet on how many people died in the episode of 24 that we missed, but Melissa told me to shut up and buy her two bottles that she had just won. 


So we ended up missing 24 and missing Karaoke, but we made it home in time for the most important thing: the bedroom party. 


Hopefully, there's another one of those in my future. 


The 2006 NCAA Championship is only one of a million reasons why I want my girlfriend back. 









(Questions? Comments? Do you want your girlfriend back? Email, IWantMyGirlfriendBack at yahoo.com)

John Got Dumped, Now He Wants His Girlfriend Back: Post Breakup Days 2-4

John started this site because he got dumped by his girlfriend of four years. He doesn't have his girlfriend back yet, but he's going to document his day-by-day efforts to win her heart back, even if it takes him 19 years to do it. John take it away. 


If you read yesterday's post, then you know two things about me: my girlfriend and I are broken up AND we live together. If you read yesterday's post and you're one of my neighbors, you also now know that I'm addicted to marijuana and hate all children. 


Anyway, back to the broken up-living together thing. 


On PBD 1 (Post Breakup Day 1), I bought flowers, candles and wine. I wrote my girlfriend a love letter and for some reason (that reason probably being I've seen Love Actually 41 times), I thought she would throw her arms around me and have me back. But it's not that simple and I know that. As you can read up top in the italics, I'm in this 'getting my girlfriend back' business for the long haul -- unless of course you don't consider 19 years a long haul, then I guess I'm in it for the short haul. 


Since we live together, I can't do mushy stuff every day. It would get old fast and she would probably break up with me again. So she would breakup the breakup, which I would do too. So on PBD's 2-4, I took a less dramatic route. 


For PBD's 2-4, I decided to send a song of the day. I was torn between a song of the day or sending a giant stuffed panda bear candy gram to her school. As I said, the plan wasn't to be overly dramatic every day, so I went with the 'song of the day' route. If the candy gram had come with a stuffed pregnant panda bear, I definitely would have gone that route. I love pregnant panda bears, mainly because they're taking over the Atlanta Zoo. 


Anyway, I'm going to tell you what the first song I sent was. Even though its more embarrassing than admitting I've seen every episode of season 3 of Sex and the City, I'll tell you anyway. 





Yup, that's 98 Degrees. So am I that lame or am I that smart. You decide. We're both from Cincinnati (like 98 Degrees) and one of our most fun trips was to San Francisco (where the video was filmed). Plus -- if you can't handle cheesiness, skip to the next paragraph -- she's been the one constant beacon of sunshine in my life since I met her over six years ago or as Nick Lachey sings, "She's my sunshine after the rain." 


Now the only problem with this whole "email her a song of the day" plan is that I have no clue if she reads them or listens to them. She might delete them, she might read them, she might forward them to the FBI and have me charged with some unwritten stalker law, there's just no way to no what's going on. 


Seriously Yahoo, you need to invent an f-ing button already where you can tell if someone has read an email you've sent. On the other hand, if they've already invented that, then someone needs to show me how it works. 


So is the song of the day a good idea? Lets go to the girlfriend reaction gauge to find out. 


Girlfriend Reaction Gauge: N/A. I can't technically score this because I don't even know if she reads the emails. For all I know, they could end up in her junk box with random penile enlargement spam and vaginal lubrication sales pitches. 


However, here is how I would hypothetically score it. Remember, the girlfriend reaction gauge is based on a 1-10 rating, with one being the worst. 


1-3: If she checks her email, sees I wrote her something and then immediately deletes it without reading it, that would probably be a one or the worse thing that could ever happen. Kind of like the Friends spinoff Joey. A two or three would be if she read the first one or two (I've sent five over five days) and just stopped reading the rest of them after that. 


4-6: A 4 or 5 would be if she reads each email, but only keeps the most recent one. This would at least mean she's still mildly interested in what I'm sending her.  And no, I have not gone the Brett Favre route and sent pictures of my penis... yet. 


9-10: A nine would be if she's reading them and saving them. Because keep in mind, deleting an email takes exactly one second. If she's keeping them, I'm hoping that it's for a scrapbook that's going to be entitled "Weird Things John Sent me While we were Broken Up." 


So if that's a 9, what would a 10 be? Glad you asked. 


 A 10 would be if she's reading the emails, saving them, and then downloading the songs off of iTunes so that she can make a CD that we will listen to during our day long sexual escapade that we will undoubtedly have if we get back together. I really have my fingers crossed that it's a 10. 


Did we get back together during PBD's 2-4? No. Do I still love her? You can bet your first born son's second daughter on it (that means yes). Will I try to get her back tomorrow? As long as I don't die in my sleep.


Odds of us getting back together: They're staying steady at 53 percent. 

John Got Dumped, Now He Wants His Girlfriend Back: Day 1

If John doesn't get his girlfriend back, he says he's never celebrating St. Patrick's day again. 

John started this site because he got dumped by his girlfriend of four years. He doesn't have his girlfriend back yet, but he's going to document his day-by-day efforts to win her heart back, even if it takes him 19 years to do it. John take it away. 

I was dumped on Halloween. Nothing is worse than being dumped on Halloween. The whole night, little kids came to my house. I would give them candy and then tell them to choke on it. I made Winnie the Pooh, a pirate and two princesses cry. Even worse, thanks to the tear-caused redness in my eyes, every parent that took their kid trick-or-treating thought I was high. So now my whole neighborhood has labeled me as the marijuana user who hates kids. I hate my neighborhood.

Oh and there is actually one thing worse than being dumped on Halloween, it's being dumped on Halloween when both of you are mad at each other. Why we were mad at each other is irrelevant. The point is that if you go through a breakup with someone when you're mad at them, all insults get thrown. She called me a "homeless leper," I called her an "infected hangnail." Are those even insults, who knows, but they sound mean.

Anyway, that's all you get to hear about the break up because this site isn't called "Why my girlfriend broke up with me," its called "I Want My Girlfriend Back." And I want my girlfriend back in the worst kind of way. We're talking I would let the Jigsaw killer from the Saw movies torture me for 33 straight hours if it meant getting her back.

Day 1: On Sunday [Halloween] night, for about 21 minutes, I never wanted to talk to my girlfriend again. Then I remembered the important stuff, like the fact that I love her and that I am 100 percent sure that she's the one (Although I'm an optimist, I should probably knock that down to 99 percent sure since I'm not exactly with her anymore).

Before I would start trying to win her back, I decided that we needed 24 hours to cool down, so I did my normal cool down activity, which is watch four of the 19 episodes of Real Housewives of Atlanta that my girlfriend has DVR'd.

How are their 19 episodes of RHOA on the DVR, here's why: I might control the remote, but she gets the DVR. For every five minutes of my content on the DVR, there is seven hours of hers. It's actually funny and it means I never miss anything on Bravo or an episode of Dancing with the Stars.

On Monday [The day after Halloween], I decide I have to do something special. So I write a long letter and tell her how much she means to me. The non-romantic part is that I wrote the letter on my computer and didn't print it out. I figured if she rejected me, I didn't want copies of my very heartfelt letter floating around the internet. I'm someone that normally tries to stick to humor when I write, I teared up writing the letter to my girlfriend, so that's why I can't exactly having it float around, it could ruin my rep. On the other hand, if she ever feels the need to put it on the internet, she's allowed too, because its hers.

Next up, I bought two dozen roses. Half were used to make a path from the front door to our candlelit kitchen, half were given to her and two extras were used to poison the food of my neighbor's dog, who was born with the mutant ability to bark for months on end. Not hours or days, but months.

Now before I go on, I have to admit something, I am an unromantic ass face. After being with the love of my life for over four years, I didn't buy her flowers for the first time until the DAY AFTER we broke up. The lesson you should learn here is that girls love flowers. If you're reading this and there is a flower shop or florist within 45 miles of you, you need to stop there after work and buy your weight in flowers. I don't care if you weigh 331 pounds. Your girlfriend will love it.

Also, I got a nice bottle of wine. My girlfriend loves wine, as a matter of fact, I would say her three most favorite things in life are: 1. Dogs 2. Camping 3. Wine and not necessarily in that order.

So how did my first step 'candle lit, heartfelt letter, rose offering' reconciliation attempt go?

The light in the room on the left wasn't on when she walked in the house, so you'll have to trust me when I say that it was at least three times more romantic then it looks.

Lets go to the girlfriend reaction gauge.

Girlfriend Reaction: 6. I definitely didn't sweep her off her feet. Because really, if you only buy your girlfriend flowers once every four years, you're not going to sweep her off her feet. You're lucky if she's swept off one toe. However, the gesture did relieve some of the tension that the breakup caused. Plus, I got a quick kiss and in case you don't know, getting a kiss the day after you break up is more exciting than tying your girlfriend up while acting out a kinky, kidnapping sex fantasy. So I was pretty pumped. Did we get back together? No. Do I still love her? More than ever. Will I try to get her back tomorrow? Of course.

Odds of us getting back together: 53 percent.

Oh and one more thing, I don't think I mentioned that we lived together. Yea, we live together. That obviously means day two is going to be way more exciting.


(Questions? Comments? Do you want your girlfriend back? Email, IWantMyGirlfriendBack at yahoo.com)

Welcome to 'I Want My Girlfriend Back,' We're Pretty Sure The Blog Name Says it All

If you've ever been dumped and then done stupid things to get your girlfriend back, you should probably bookmark this site.

Dumping is the worse part of being in a relationship. Think about it, it's called dumping for a reason. All dumping is bad and most of it can hurt. Whether you're letting out a dump on the toilet, being dumped by your girlfriend, or being run over by a dump truck, there's never a good time to be dumped. The only good kind of dumping is when you're girlfriend does it on your chest.

There are about 974 different types of breakups and dumpings, because we don't want to write 1,985 pages worth of material, we're only going to look at three today:

First, there's the Tiger Woods breakup, you know, where your wife chases the car you're driving with a 9-iron because you cheated on her with 122 different women. This one isn't too common, but the lesson to be learned is: cheating with 122 different women is usually a bad idea. 

There's the "it's not you, it's me breakup" that George Constanza mastered in the 90's. If you go sit in a Starbucks for 12 straight hours today, there is a 94 percent chance you'll hear this. People love breaking up at Starbucks. If any Starbucks big wigs are reading, you need to nickname your coffee shops 'the breakup capitals of the world' and then promote accordingly. You guys are sitting on a goldmine. 

Finally, there's the "we've had our ups and downs, but I think we've had too many downs lately, so I'm going to dump you for a koala bear who is a better cuddler and only slightly less better looking." This one hurts a lot and is the reason why Australian trips are a bad idea.