ESTJ: As you walk into the room, he is sitting at an office desk. He motions for you to sit down. (This confuses you greatly, because you don’t even have an office desk in your house; did he buy one just for this occasion?) He takes out his reading glasses and pulls out a file folder that you can see is extensively tagged with color-coded index notes. He opens it up and begins reading from a double-spaced, 5,000-word essay written in size 12 Times New Roman with in-text citations and a bibliography written in APA format. His essay lists every way in which you’ve ever failed to live up to his expectations in the relationship; the report concludes that there is no other rational choice but to fire you as his companion. He thanks you for your time and writes you a severance check (aka first and last month’s rent) before leaving. You shrug casually because, well, hey, it could’ve been worse: you could’ve been broken up with the way that the ENFP girl’s boyfriend on this list did.
ISTJ: ISTJs don’t break up with you. If you end up with an ISTJ, you’re either going to have to do the dirty work yourself, or you’re going to be stuck with them until you die.
Either that, or they’ll e-mail you from work while they’re on their lunch break (because they can’t send a personal e-mail during work hours, obviously).
ESTP: You walk into your apartment to see your ESTP boyfriend in the middle of having a literal orgy in your living room. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you scream at your ESTP boyfriend (and the twelve other people in the room, too, I guess), who seems genuinely confused somehow. “But I don’t even love them!” he continues to insist, not understanding how you could be so upset about this. “It’s just sex, what’s the big deal? Here, how about this: why don’t you join us? Would that make you feel better? The bowl of condoms is over there. They’re just for decoration and we’re not using them, but I thought I would show them to you anyway.”
ISTP: Sends you a letter in the mail from a clinic advising you to get tested for STDs.
ESFJ: You’ve been talking about starting to try for a baby for a while now, so you and your partner begin to make some preparations to help protect your future family - stashing away money for the down-payment on a house, trading in your car for a family van, filling out life insurance policies; routine stuff. But then, little things started happening; things so small that you only noticed in hindsight. The new lock on her phone that wasn’t there before. How often you caught her smiling to herself as she was texting. How much more often she was suddenly going on out-of-town work trips, or going out for a lady’s night, or having to stay late for work. How irritated she always seemed to be with you, and how little you were having sex despite actively trying to get pregnant. You were in denial at first, but slowly, you’re starting to put the pieces together. You make up your mind to confront her on the weekend, in case anything goes wrong and you suddenly have to go stay somewhere else.
Except you never get a chance to, because one morning, you wake up and your world looks completely different. You aren’t in your bed; in fact, you don’t seem to be anywhere at all. And that’s because you’re dead, because your wife poisoned you so that she could move overseas to be with her new hot 23-year-old boyfriend from Spain, and the money she got from your $250,000 life insurance policy.
ISFJ: Does it the proper, old-fashioned way: by sitting you down and explaining to you why it just isn’t working out. Fuck ISFJs and their wholesomeness and perfection preventing me from shitposting about them. =/
ESFP: Sends you a picture of themselves flipping the bird while sucking your best friend’s dick. Afterwards, texts you a detailed play-by-play of everything they did, and how much of a better lay he was than you. Oh, and how much bigger his dick was than yours, of course.
ISFP: Breaking up? Us? Oh, honey. Honey, no. You’re not going anywhere. I will murder your entire family if that’s what I have to do to stop them from being able to take you away from me. The police? Lmao, that’s cute. Let them come and watch me win the Oscar performance of the year as I cry about how you beat me, and drag you away to jail instead. No, baby, you’re not going anywhere. We’re never breaking up. We’re always going to be together. Forever.
ENTJ: He’s a wildly successful entrepreneur who ended up becoming a multi-millionaire. You’re the beautiful philanthropist and socialite trophy wife and stay-at-home mom who takes care of the kids. Together, you own homes in four different countries (one for each season, and several in Aspen and Montauk - just for the weekends, of course), a yacht, multiple sports cars, an entire room just for shoes, ties, and handbags, and a chef, a housekeeper, and a full-time, live-in nanny. Everything he owns is shiny, new, the latest model - everything, that is, except for you. So he cheats on you behind your back, divorces you when you find out about it, and then replaces you with a hotter, younger replica of yourself.
But hey, at least you got half of everything in the divorce. At least he was gracious enough not to have you assassinated, I guess.
INTJ: Calmly and rationally explains to you why it just wouldn’t work in the grand scheme of things. I mean, for one thing, having a wife (or even a serious girlfriend) just wasn’t a part of the life plan that he created for himself in the first grade; hell, it wasn’t even a part of the ten-year plan that he drew up for himself on the first day of high school. He’s not trying to be rude or insensitive, but he just doesn’t have the time to waste on pursuing empty, meaningless pursuits like social relationships or having a girlfriend. How is he going to meet his goal of becoming the youngest PhD holder in his state if he has to waste time doing things like talking to you?
Joke’s on him, though, because this is exactly how the movie Legally Blonde started, and doesn’t he know how that movie ended for someone like him?
ENTP: ENTPs don’t break up with you, because ENTPs don’t date anyone seriously in the first place. If, by some stroke of (horrible) luck, you actually did manage to get an ENTP to agree to hang out with you often enough under a context that could reasonably be construed as the two of you being “in a relationship”, they would probably get bored and cheat on you within weeks. But hey, if you’re a masochist and getting your heart broken repeatedly is your thing (lookin’ at you, INFxs), then do what makes you happy, man. I’m not judging.
INTP: Meh. Doesn’t really bother to break up with you. Continues to co-habitate with you while ceasing to continue putting any effort into the maintenance of the relationship, and just kind of letting it die a natural death. By the time it’s over, neither of you have cared for months.
ENFJ: Leaves you a length, caring, compassionate, “It’s not you, it’s me” goodbye letter on your bedside table in an attempt to soften the blow of gently explaining that she has decided to leave you and your life together in order to pursue her dream of cultivating relationships with multiple wealthy Sugar Daddies who fund her extravagant, globetrotting lifestyle.
INFJ: INFJs never truly break up with anyone. They keep the door open just the tiniest sliver, so that they can keep you around as their potential back-up plan in case their current relationship falls apart. After all, where are they going to get their identity and sense of self from if they’re alone?
ENFP: You come home after work and she isn’t there. None of her stuff is missing, so at first, you aren’t worried - she must just be running late, or made an impromptu decision to go see a friend. By 10 PM, you’re riddled with anxiety and the fear that something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. You call her friends. You call all the local hospitals and jails. You file a police report. But nothing ever comes of the investigation, and no one can figure out what happened to her - it’s like she dropped off the face of the Earth. The whole ordeal is emotionally devastating for you, but eventually life goes on, as it inevitably must.
Years later, you turn on your computer and have a new friend request on Facebook. It’s your ex-girlfriend. You find out that she’s been living on a hippie commune in the Costa Rican rainforest for the past three years. She felt “stifled and trapped” by her old life, she tells you, and felt like she “needed a change from the oppressive grind of daily life”. She can’t understand why you’re so upset about it; shouldn’t you be happy for her for finally getting to live out her dream?
You hang up the phone and never think about her again.
That’s it. That’s literally it. You’ll never hear from them again. It’s like they just never existed. After a while, you start to wonder whether they ever really did, or if they were just a figment of your imagination.
(If you’re an INTP, then this is probably true. Your caring, squishy uwu INFP senpai girlfriend was all a product of your lonely imagination.)
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