To make a ridiculous story short, those of you who were living vicariously through me can now safely desist.
The drama comes in two flavors: straight up, and with a twist.
First course: lunch, Friday. A standard helping of break-up talk, seasoned with traditional phrases such as, "You're a great guy, really," and "It wasn't anything you did," followed by slightly more tasteless sayings such as "I know how you feel," which carries the slightest aroma of condescension, and "I don't ...regret... anything we did," which smacks of faintest gall. It is rather the prerogative of the recipient of such talks to criticize the manner in which they were delivered -- and while I know it is never easy to say these things to someone, at least have a decent reason. Honestly.
Second course, wherein lies the twist: dinner, same night. Interrupted by a common friend, who has apparently already heard the news, fresh off the grapevine. Heard that, as well as how the boy's best friend apparently has an absurd misguided crush on me. How the best friend told the boy about the crush. How the boy then broke with me. I considered it a reasonable possibility that the two events were connected. Either way made no difference to me, but I never turn down a mystery. A phone call confirmed, in no uncertain terms, that he said what he said because he "meant it," no relation to the best friend.
The rest of the weekend was spent in hedonistic pursuits with my friends: creating a head of hair that resembles a metallic sunrise, birthday parties for complete strangers, brunching solely for the unlimited mimosas, and curling up in a nest of down comforter. Holy cats, I have cool friends.