The 10 Types of Breakups You Have in Your Life (and How to Handle Them)

You learn a lot about yourself during a break-up. Heartbreak can inspire a man to cure cancer, or it can turn him into a Howard Hughes-like shut-in. To ensure that you don’t end up a recluse with a Call of Duty dependency, we're here to dope you on the 10 Types of Breakups You Have in Your Life (and How to Handle Them).

Written by Sean Evans (@seanseaevans)

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When it happens: The summer going into high school.

How it goes down: Your mom drops you off at her house for what you think will be afternoon of jumping on the trampoline and goofin' on Photo Booth. After sharing a plate of Totino's Pizza Rolls, she hits you with a Taylor Swift-like break-up ballad. This is the saddest thing that has ever happened in your little Nickelodeon life. To make things even more pathetic, you have to stand outside by yourself until moms pulls up in the Nissan Sentra to take your prepubescent boy band-looking ass home.

What to do about it: You're basically a pipe bomb of hormones and teenage angst at this age, so it's very easy to spin out. As tempting as it may be to stand outside this chick's window with a boom box blasting KC and JoJo's "All My Life," try to keep your head. When you're only source of income is a $20 allowance and you rely on a Razor scooter to get around, life's not that serious.

When it happens: You'll try to hold things together during the first semester of college, but this thing's going to be a wrap by Halloween.

How it goes down: She's been slow to text back and had to cancel your last two Skype sessions unexpectedly. During an especially boring SOC 101 lecture, you scroll your Facebook feed and discover a picture of her at Tri-Delt formal on the lap of State's third string quarterback. This can't be life.

What to do about it: On the plus side, you're in college and thus surrounded by recreational drugs, drink specials, and pervasive daddy issues that exponentially increase your chances of finding comfort. That said, you also share a 250 square-foot dorm room with an X-Box addicted exchange student and have less than $250 to your name. It doesn't take a masters degree to know that you're still a chump. See if you can get a job as a bartender or working retail at some lame mall store, like Hollister Co. or whatever. If you can offer free lemon drops or the employee discount on dark wash jeggings, you'll be the campus equivalent of Ryan Gosling.

When it happens: When you least expect it, obviously.

How it goes down: You think boo is coming over to split a bottle of Malbec and watch TiVo-ed The Bachelorette, but she hits you with the I-need-some-time speech and returns a queso stained Pittsburgh Steelers hoodie you left at her crib instead. Then, she leaves your apartment, hops into a Chevy Silverado with an amateur MMA fighter, and out of your life forever.

What to do about it: You need to treat this chick's social media channels the way Kevin Smith treats vegetables: like they don't exist. A single picture of sweetie hugging up on some dude at Lollapalooza will absolutely cripple the healing process. You'll end up getting loaded on 100-proof whiskey and texting her Bruno Mars lyrics at 2 am. You don't want to be in that place homie, trust. So in closing, smash your Galaxy S4 into a thousand pieces and stay off Facebook until you can listen to a Kelly Clarkson joint without sobbing uncontrollably. You're welcome.

When it happens: This kind of clumsy back and forth is something most of us do in our 20’s, unless you’re from Florida and have appeared on an episode of Cops, then it’s a lifestyle choice.

How it goes down: You and your girlfriend are so bored with one another that you have to stage over-the-top fights at parties and dramatic face-to-face confrontations at Starbucks just to keep the magic alive. Worse yet, you annoy all your friends with the hackneyed, dramatic routine.

What to do about it: When you makeup to break-up, there are no real consequences to your split, which is why you have no qualms about having “the talk” every two weeks for a year. Just snap it off, crush an industrial sized bag of Reece’s Miniatures, and cry your eyes out to a Lisa Loeb song. It’s time to be a grown-up.

When it happens: This shit will most likely happen in your early 30's, but you're never totally safe.

How it goes down: If your squeeze is buried in her iPhone and disappearing for extended periods of time, she might be getting more than a spot on the squat rack from her personal trainer. Like, if you scrolled her text messages to "Todd - Crunch Gym," it'd be a steady stream of kiss mark emojis, inside jokes, and topless selfies. We're sorry you had to find out this way, but Todd has a resting heart rate of 60 beats per minute and cranks out one-handed push-ups by the dozen. It was only a matter of time before he added an irresponsibly sexual cardio session to the end of every workout.

What to do about it: When humiliation begets heartbreak, your clothing permeates with a stench of desperation that only women can smell. Over the next six months, you're going to strike out more than Alex Rodriguez in the playoffs. You're only move is to beat your love scorned past at its own game by getting in the gym, lifting until you throw up twice, and waking up at 5 am the next morning to do it again. It's amazing how quickly a defined jawline can turn your luck around.

When it happens: If the girl you're seeing recently change her profile picture from a couple's shot at a ski resort to one of her in a bikini with her friends, this is happening to you right now.

How it goes down: She was dumped by a luxury property realtor with a little bit of a coke problem a few months back, so she mined the dance floor at Club Epik and, somehow, scooped up your ass. You've been kicking it on the regular ever since, but old dude got mad jealous when he heard that you guys were doing REAL couples stuff, like going to Book of Mormon and wine tastings. Anyway, he's been blowing up her Gmail pretty hard and his pleas for a second chance haven't gone unnoticed. You're on borrowed time, dude. We're sorry.

What to do about it: Honestly, this is the easiest type of break-up to get over, so try not to be a feeble little cry baby about the whole thing. You're allowed to vent to one friend over a Mike's Hard Lemonade. But after the last sip of backwash, it's officially time to move on.

When it happens: This is an epidemic amongst 20-somethings that "do brunch," and feel debilitating pressure to keep pace with their recently engaged sorority sisters.

How it goes down: The two of you dated for 18 months, so, naturally, it's time to adopt a puppy and move in together. You think this is the first step in a charmed life of Pinterest-inspired DIY projects and watching the Daily Show in a shared Snuggie, but after six months of morning breath and sweatpants, things don't seem so enchanting. Translation: it's time for one of you to put everything you own in a box to the left.

What to do about it: Celebrate. If sharing a high-rise condo in your 20's riddled you with anxiety, imagine what things would be like if y'all were out in the suburbs, living in a house with an above ground pool, and shuttling three insufferable little kids to soccer practice. You can only be about that Chrysler Town & Country life if you are absolutely compatible with your partner.

When it happens: Shortly after your girl gets a major promotion and/or boob job.

How it goes down: You know that part in coming-of-age movies when the "nerdy" girl takes off her glasses, lets her hair down, and all of a sudden becomes the hottest woman on Earth? Well, that happens in real life, only instead of capturing the heart of an awe-struck Freddie Prinze Jr., she realizes that she's way too hot for you and starts smashing one of the dudes from Maroon 5.

What to do about it: It's gut check time. You can either spend eight hours a day on Brazzers.com, or you can start training for an Iron Man. It's that simple. You'll have a ton of nervous energy, and moving on is all about how you channel that suffering. Go to work early, stay late, and a year from now your Match.com profile will melt the internet.

When it happens: If you have a kid together, it'll go down when they're in the fourth grade. If not, 34-years-old sounds like as good a time as any.

How it goes down: You've been wayyy too into fantasy football to notice that your wife spends every evening chugging red wine and Skype-ing her college boyfriend. Eventually, a sheriff rolls up to the house and asks you to sign and date a petition that requests half of your shit.

What to do about it: Overcompensate to the maximum by purchasing a Dodge Viper and a matching Kawasaki Jet Ski. Then, lace your new one bedroom apartment with the finest black leather furniture Overstock.com has to offer. By this time next year, you'll be rolling up to your kids' Little League games with the local Outback Steakhouse's third hottest waitress on your arm. You should definitely announce your arrival by chirping the gears in your sports car and ripping a few donuts in the parking lot, too. When you walk out of that lipstick red two door rocking a denim jean jacket, your ex will forever regret the day she decided to drop you.

When it happens: Typically later in life, but keep an eye on shorty if she's the beneficiary of a large life insurance payout beacuse she might have you offed by a contract killer on your 29th birthday.

How it goes down: Statistically speaking, cardio vascular disease is the most likely scenario, but choking on a hoagie or rolling a Ford Explorer are also in play.

What to do about it: If sweet thang knifes you to death in a White Castle parking lot for an annuity, you can exact revenge by haunting in her in the afterlife like some sort of beer bellied poltergeist. But if she gets psoriasis of the liver and leaves you to fend for yourself in a Bonita Springs retirement community, all the front nine golf and rerun episodes of Judge Judy in the world won't ease your pain. Go down to the nearest animal shelter and adopt the next dog on the kill list. Lose one life, save another, all in the name of love.