Hello there, I'm Gene, I'll be assisting you today in acquiring the benefits of your breakup.

Did you fill out your forms—the We-2 for relationship duration and the Bae-26? Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Davis, these are invalid because they are in pen. We ask that you fill them out in pencil for this very reason; the forms are illegible because the ink has run everywhere due to your tears. I can just fill it out for you electronically, no need to cry louder.

Were you the party who was dumped? I’m sorry, I cannot write “it was a mutual thing;” I can only click “yes” or “no”, plus that's not a real thing. You were, got it.

How long were you together? Less than a year. I cannot note that it felt like longer.

Did you reside together? Again, that is not how this works—it's yes or no. I can’t write that you “slept at his place most nights and your shower stuff is still there.”

This next question might help us narrow it down—had you broken the “fart barrier” and flatulated in front of your significant other without blaming the dog?

Since your answer is “no,” you did not legally live together.

Alright, I now have all the information and can tell you the benefits you will receive from your breakup. You are entitled to 1 month of unlimited sympathy from friends followed by 6 months of shoehorning your ex into conversations that have nothing to do with him, after which time you are required to go to a psychiatric evaluation to determine if you are “milking it.” You have a one-year hold before you can message him and check how things are going without being judged as “still into him” by a jury of your mutual friends.

As an addendum, you also get 5 passes to say incredibly dumb things, examples of which include comparing your breakup to the recent death of a friend’s parent or telling people you wish you were a lesbian because it would be easier.

Obviously, you have unlimited reign to stalk your ex on social media for the next week, which I see you are already taking full advantage of. He looks very tan! Is he in Cabo? Well, enjoy monitoring his vacation and whereabouts on Insta, Twitter, et al. until the end of the month, at which point you will be limited to compulsively checking each social platform for news on his whereabouts to 5 times a day, 4 times a day the next week, and so on.

If you abuse these stalking privileges, it’s a violation of Wallow Code 24.12 and your friends’ patience will be garnished.

We are not in the business of monitoring people’s thoughts, but we recommend a similar tapering schedule for ex-centered masturbatory fantasies.

Next, drinking privileges! You get one night of heavy drinking, all expenses paid by your BFF, during which time you are entitled to black out and act like a monster; this can be followed by 2 months of drinking heavily at your own financial and emotional expense. Wine is available for purchase in the vending machine on the 7th floor, and we also have chocolate and ice cream for sale in bulk if you decide to put on the customary ten pounds of depression weight. The stairs are located down the hall to your right if you instead choose to lose 30 pounds and get very into Crossfit. It’s up to your personal discretion, but in the next 90 days, you legally must chub up or get jacked as hell.

Unfortunately, we are not able to offer you any drunk dials at this time.

I know these limited perks are disappointing, but they are all I can offer due to the limited duration of your relationship. But maybe there’s something I can do. I recognize you now from your breakup last summer—the other party met the DM requirements for “fuckboi” status and we were not able to award you any sympathy. However, in light of your advanced age and many, many, many previous breakups, maybe I can find a loophole to get you some extra compassion.

This is an LCAH exception form, which stands for “Last Chance at Happiness”—it extends the public sympathy you will receive. The catch is that it will automatically register you as a Public No-Sex Haver. Don’t worry, there’s no online database; you can only be identified through a search for #selflove in your Instagram posts. If you live within 500 feet of any families, you will have to alert them to your status as a Public No-Sex Haver. It’s just a precaution so they are aware you are always available to babysit on Friday and Saturday nights.

In exchange for your dignity, you will earn a lifetime supply of crying jags both in public and in the workplace, and your mother will be required to sign a “nag” order forbidding any talk of future grandchildren. Just sign on this line here that you forfeit all rights to winning the breakup and embrace the abyss. Here’s a pencil, and if you could try to cry away from the form, that would be great.

Here you are, Ms. Davis. Have a great rest of the day, and here is your voucher for 3 cats.