Chances are, if you live in Brooklyn and were looking for a decent blender on the cheap this morning, you may have stumbled upon one of the best ads you’ve ever seen for a kitchen appliance in your life.
The ad, cleverly titled, “Wanna put my tender heart in a blender” after a lyric in an Eve 6 song that was popular when I was in high school, was easy to scroll past, but the thumbnail was bound to catch a few eyes.
The ad starts off with some advice for blender shoppers
Never date a corporate lawyer. Here’s how it goes. You match him on Tinder and give him a chance even though he ghosted you after one date.
You never get an explanation for this beyond “I was looking for something specific,” which sounds like another lawyer or some Woody Allenesque waif-bot, but most Brooklyn dudes want that, so fuck it. He has nice hair. He apologizes, claims to hate True Detective, and laughs at all your jokes.
The story goes on as you would expect. Her (now ex) boyfriend, who she met on Tinder and figured was “not like other corporate lawyers,” was a great guy when they first started going out.
He was happy, she was happy, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach that she has seen animated all throughout her life for the very first time.
Classic love story, meet classic speed bump:
One night you watch a movie about the futility of monogamy, and he freaks out. He’s scared of commitment. The guy who committed to 80-hour work weeks for nebulous reasons is scared of commitment. The guy who asked to meet your family after you said it would be okay to wait, because commitment can be scary, is now scared of commitment.
We’ve got a commitaphobe on our hands. She actually already introduced him to her family at his own request, and this ends up marking the beginning of the seller falling out of love.
She spends a weekend with him and his “successful friends,” and seeing the seller having difficulty socializing with them:
This is when he decides you’re incompatible.
He comes over in a panic. He’s sad because “we used to be so happy.” He sees you “in a negative way” now. He sometimes even doubts you’re attractive.
Because lawyers think it’s important to present all sides of reality. To acknowledge how illusory everything is, even human connection. A corporate lawyer can predict the future from a mile up his own asshole.
At this point, the relationship is taking its final breaths, but the ex-boyfriend doesn’t want to be the one to put the pillow over its head.
He clearly wants to break up, but makes you do it. It’s the day after your birthday. A few days later, this Vitamix arrives at your door. Either he wants you back, or he does not understand the human species.
He does not understand the human species. Who buys someone they’re dumping a Vitamix? He wants to be the hero of this story: “I got this girl an epic birthday gift and then we broke up.” He wants me to remember him fondly. I can’t abide it. I had fleeting Hollywood fantasies about smashing it in the street, but that’s for waif-bots.
I’m not gonna ruin a perfectly good blender. Yet, sitting on my microwave, it looks exactly like the Wappen & Kladden building. I am afraid of it. Please help me.
It’s a certified reconditioned 5200 series. It comes in the box with a 5-year warranty and a recipe book. I am also available for dates.
Without a doubt, this is the first time most of us (I don’t want to assume all) have ever heard of a break-up blender. The drama attached to it may be a bit much for some households, but it would make a perfect kitchen utensil for the aspiring Kardashian in your life.
As of this writing, the blender is still for sale and the seller is still single. You can try your luck with either by contacting her through the Craigslist ad.