The purgative act of writing has long been balm to the agony of breakup — how else to explain 84 percent of pop music and the turgid poetry of many a 34 — er, 12-year-old girl? But when Kathleen Horan broke up with her long-time boyfriend in 2006, she penned neither love song nor journal, but rather something she felt even more fitting for her love’s grim fate: an obituary.

The idea led to relationshipobit.com — and now to a book, full of melancholy necrologies that begin like this:

Mary and Steve’s four-year on-again off-again relationship died suddenly of shock when Mary asked Steve if he had any intention of marrying her.”

(Condolences to their family and friends. Except the ones who say they’re “relieved.”)

Here’s mine:

Maria and Bobby’s love, which was born at a Chili’s in Maryland and went on to defy logic and fried food, died recently in New York. It was 10 years old.

The cause was an inability to commit, coupled with a refusal to let go of an ex-girlfriend, and lies.

The couple met when Maria worked as a waitress at the chain restaurant and Bobby came in as a customer with a friend late one weekday evening. The couple dated for about a year before distance came between them. But they stayed in touch through the years, despite several moves, failed relationships with other people and other life
problems. Then three years ago, they both wound up in New York. Both were single and a passionate love affair began. Unfortunately one half of the couple was more serious than the other, who was more emotionally damaged by his last relationship than he cared to admit.

The are survived by one set of Mr. Met salt and pepper shakers, a
shared love of Diet Pepsi in a bottle, and a cat that he hated.

In lieu of flowers, write your own here — or here.