Zoe – A Comedian’s Breakup Song

August 28, 2020 |
By Sadiq Samani

Show Your Friends:

I dated a girl named Zoe. We had a relationship that was transcendent to me. Then we broke up, nonverbally. No closure. No good-bye. No too-da-loo!

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put my feelings out there, but then I thought, “When musicians have a devastating breakup, they write a song about the person and name the song after them. If the song is a hit, it makes it onto the Billboard Top 100 and wins several Grammys. What should a stand-up comedian/writer/technologist like me do after a heartbreak involving the love of my life? Write my story on the tragedies of love and publish it on my WordPress? Then title it “Zoe” with the appropriate SEO tags so that when someone searches for Zoe, this page pops up first? Maybe it’ll get ranked on Google’s Top 100 searches list? Or get a Webby for Blog of the Year?! Maybe Calvin Klein will finally put a photo of me wearing undies on a billboard in SoHo!”

Verse 1

Zoe. Zoe. Zoe. Zoe. Zoe. Zoe. According to an SEO tutorial I read, every time the title of a piece appears in the first few paragraphs, Google ranks it higher. We’re trying to win a Webby here, people!

Zoe and I had been dating for 9 months when the pandemic hit New York City. Her mom opened up her home outside of the area for us to retreat to and regroup in. While we were there, Zoe became distant. Her flaring allergies and the pandemic exacerbated her pain. She disappeared into her room and stopped communicating with me entirely. I didn’t know how to communicate with her. We never even verbally terminated our partnership. I felt helpless, and none of the YouTube videos I watched about relationship development gave me a solution. Though, I did find this cute cat compilation video!

I didn’t get to tell her what I felt: “Zoe, I’m very sorry if I hurt you in any way at any time throughout our relationship. I knew what I had with you from the start; it’s why I committed to you. You know that because I showed you through my actions. I loved making you happy. I wanted to be mindful, I wanted to listen, and I wanted to learn, teach, and grow with you. I didn’t take you for granted. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

I hated the way we ended without talking, because Zoe and I did an excellent job managing communication in our non-traditional relationship. We didn’t deserve this.

(Yes, I’m adding a chorus for this blog about Zoe, to stick with the theme.)

Chorus

She’s mixing dead birds with paint,
I’m writing jokes with my pain,
I 3D printed a Dino dick,
She 3D printed unicorn in pink,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my 3D printing model,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my feet on a throttle

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Zoe is a word that goes through flows,
Three little letters, makes sweet what’s bitter,
Her name rhymes with tiny toes,
On rubber feet falling out of her clothes,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my gluten-free model,
Your love, your eyes, your thighs, your ride,
You’re my genie in a bottle

Verse 2

I’m not looking for marriage, children, or a house in the suburbs. I’m non-monogamous and queer and an atheist. Zoe is similar. If you combine all the odd traits Zoe and I match on, Zoe would be a statistical anomaly; a fairytale. I’m not talking out of my honeymoon stage ass. We both even have auto-immune disorders, and according to her sister we have the same walk. Sex? Sex with Zoe was like performing trapeze on the surface of an infinity pool being gravitationally pulled by Jupiter. Having Zoe in my life was a rare experience, like seeing Halley’s comet or Jesus on toast.

I’ve travelled through 50+ cities on 4 continents, I’ve met hundreds of thousands of people, I’ve had millions of experiences ranging from great to horrible. Zoe is an anomaly. I work in stand up and technology and I study observing, dissecting, and scrutinizing people and their ideas. Zoe is a fairytale. I have been in several multi-year relationships. I know who I am. I know what I want. Zoe is Jesus on toast.

Zoe matches my esoteric values and many of my eccentric qualities and interests. We share the same ethos and our tribes overlap. The 9 months I was with her made my previous relationships look like a trailing second to Usain Bolt. I can’t catalog every sparkling moment or every trait I loved about us, but here are the top ones:

  • I could tell her anything. I still trust her feedback/advice. I wish I could ask her how to handle this situation.
  • She’s worked with me on laser cutting and 3D printing projects.
  • She sewed pockets into my wearable tech gear. Now I see her stupid face every time I wear my LED shoes or vest.
  • We have similar styles and we looked cute af together. She looked hot all the time to me, even on days she didn’t feel it herself.
  • She’s an atheist. I’m an atheist. Do you know how hard it is to find a girl that observes the scientific method and thinks astrology is a scam?
  • She’s good with kids, but doesn’t want any because she doesn’t wanna pass down her disorders. I’m good with kids, but I don’t want kids because they’ll give me a disorder.
  • She has goals and aspirations and drive, just like me. We both love creating.
  • She never cared about the money.
  • We cuddle harder than twisted pretzels.
  • She’s always smiling and laughing. Her face is always sunny. It’s the first thing I noticed about her.
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In fact, her whole family likes to smile and laugh. I miss her family too. For a stand up comedian, they’re the perfect audience members. Also, throughout quarantine, her mom and her sister were amazing towards me. Even though Zoe and I were on the outs, they made sure I was in a safe place during the pandemic. I even had her mom star on an episode of Walk With Sadiq.

Zoe is a chapter in my life that I’m about to close, but after I highlight and bookmark her.

Chorus

She’s mixing dead birds with paint,
I’m writing jokes with my pain,
I 3D printed a Dino dick,
She 3D printed unicorn in pink,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my 3D printing model,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my feet on a throttle

Zoe is a word that goes through flows,
Three little letters, makes sweet what’s bitter,
Her name rhymes with tiny toes,
On rubber feet falling out of her clothes,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my gluten-free model,
Your love, your eyes, your thighs, your ride,
You’re my genie in a bottle

Bridge

I know why our breakup ended badly. I’ve contemplated thousands of reasons why it happened, but according to Occam’s razor, the simplest explanation is most likely the right one. I’m 37, she’s 22. No matter how brilliant she is and no matter how much I think she’s my equal, I have experience in life and relationships that she doesn’t. I’ve been in a 5-year relationship and a few that were 3 years. Also, I was an oblivious prick in my 20s. I had 15 extra years to learn, and I still didn’t know how to avoid a capsized boat caught between a malfunctioning girlfriend and a pandemic.

I know you’re thinking, “Sadiq, you dated a 22 year old?! She must’ve been really smart!” She is. Zoe is a genius that activated all my senses from the moment I met her, in a way no other person has. I couldn’t believe how intelligent she was either. When I was 23, I was dating a 45 year old, and I was an immature idiot. I didn’t connect on that level at all. I was just excited someone paid for my meal AND fucked me on the first date.

Does age really determine the severity of the breakup, though? What if Zoe was 35? Would it have made a huge difference? I know people in their 30s and 40s with worse breakups, especially in the last few months. Zoe and I didn’t shout at each other. Neither she nor her family threw me out of their house; they kept me safe. Does age matter?

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Chorus

She’s mixing dead birds with paint,
I’m writing jokes with my pain,
I 3D printed a Dino dick,
She 3D printed unicorn in pink,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my 3D printing model,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my feet on a throttle

Zoe is a word that goes through flows,
Three little letters, makes sweet what’s bitter,
Her name rhymes with tiny toes,
On rubber feet falling out of her clothes,
You’re my, you’re my, you’re my, you’re my,
You’re my gluten-free model,
Your love, your eyes, your thighs, your ride,
You’re my genie in a bottle

Closing Verse

I keep having a recurring dream. Zoe and I going our different ways, but continuing to grow. Years later we bump into each other, let’s say in New York, or Quebec City. I say hello, or bonjour. The air breezes through with suspense. She walks into my arms, looks up at me, and says, “I watched that video message you sent me and I read your article about me. Congrats on the Webby by the way. I wanted to tell you that it was very sweet. I’m also sorry if I hurt you. I was going through my own emotional bullshit during the pandemic, which I’m sure you realized because you’re a genius too. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, and wanted me to be happy. I’m sorry and I love you.” Then we lock lips, as if we both share a Netflix account. We lock more than lips.

The worst part about this breakup? That bitch set a higher standard for any other person who will come into my life! Then again, every girlfriend I’ve dated has been better suited for me than the last. I don’t settle down, I settle up. If Zoe is this close to soulmate potential, what will the next relationship be like? It’s gonna be awkward explaining this to a future girlfriend: “Zoe? Oh honey, there’s nothing to worry about. She’s just something I published on my WordPress. You’re my person, baby!”

For now, I’ll continue with my original life plan. Focus on my development in stand up and technology every day, be happy, be good to others, exercise, and have a good skincare regimen so that when I’m 70 I can settle down with someone in their 50s who I’ll meet at a marina rec center in California.

I love you, Zoe, and I’ll miss you.

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