Getting dumped sucks. What sucks more is getting dumped, giving it another try, learning to love once more and then getting dumped again. I would know — I was just spurned for the second time by Steve Carell.

I bet he doesn’t even remember the first time we met. It was the sweltering summer of 2002, when I stayed up a wee bit late one night and caught my first episode of “The Daily Show.” Steve did one of his “Produce Pete” sketches, something about pineapples and Hawaii. I don’t recall exactly why, but the sketch just killed me, and he was so effortlessly charismatic and wonderful. My dad lambasted me the next morning for sleeping in so late, but I didn’t care — I had found Steve.

Months later, it was Steve who helped me get through the start of the war in Iraq — a confusing, frustrating time for a kid in middle school — with his spectacular deadpan as the show’s Senior War Correspondent. By then, my parents had finally accepted Steve, and I didn’t have to sneak around to see him anymore. Sure, the likes of fellow correspondents Stephen Colbert, Rob Corddry and Ed Helms were strong temptations, but I only ever had eyes for Steve.

As 2004 started, Steve became unexpectedly distant. His appearances on “The Daily Show” grew slim, appearing maybe once a month on the show. And then, one day, he just left without any word or warning. My initial sadness arose out of youthful bewilderment — how could Steve have something better to do than making me laugh on “The Daily Show?”

Sadness turned into rage when I discovered he was headlining the American adaptation of “The Office,” which was to begin airing in March 2005. I had seen the first season of the original British “Office” the year before, and had become infatuated with its sheer brilliance. Now these boorish, “I-think-getting-hit-in-the-balls-is-funny” American louts would be remaking the show, starring Steve “butt soup” Carell? Despicable.

I did watch the premiere of the American “Office,” mostly to affirm my belief that it was going to be a steaming pile of tutt. I could hardly contain my maniacal glee when it turned out I was right — the pilot was a nearly shot-by-shot remake of the first episode of the British version, except worse. The American counterparts were humorless schmucks, Geico-ad rejects who were just happy to quit their day jobs as burrito builders at Chipotle. Steve Carell, in particular, was exasperating, looking like Augustus Gloop in Wonka’s Factory as he “upgraded” from Comedy Central correspondent to broadcast network sitcom star, yet falling flat on his face in the shadow of Ricky Gervais. Not only that, his character was detestable — a slimy, sexist blockhead who had no business anchoring a network show.

I ended up watching the rest of the brief first season of the American “Office,” mostly because observing Steve Carell’s ineptitude felt like vindication for him deserting me. But then came the magnificence of “The 40 Year Old Virgin,” followed by the highly improved second season of “The Office,” and I remembered why Steve stole my heart in the first place — his goofy abandon, blistering charm and sublime smile.

I decided to give Steve a second chance, and our renewed relationship blossomed over the next few years. Sure, there were the subterranean lows (Prison Mike from season three) but the highs were soaring (Date Mike from season six, Agent Michael Scarn). Steve Carell’s portrayal of Michael Scott became infused with humanity — behind all the incompetence, he was just a nice guy who wanted everyone to like him. Carell also developed a now-legendary rapport with his costars, who quickly evolved from the cardboard-cutout imitations they were in the first season. By the end of season six last May, watching Steve yuk it up on “The Office” was one of the highlights of my week.

Then came the Incident: June 2010, Steve Carell announced he was leaving “The Office” after its next season, quoted as saying “I just thought it was time for my character to go” (celeb speak for “I want mo’ benjamins”). Oops, he did it again.

Now, television actors leave shows all the time — it’s the nature of the medium. Michael J. Fox left “Spin City” because of Parkinson’s, David Duchovny left “The X-Files” because of a contract dispute. But Steve Carell is essentially leaving because he knows he can rake in the g’s in film working half as hard as he does on TV. And you know what? That wouldn’t even be that big of a deal, except that Steve Carell makes horrid movies like “Dinner for Schmucks” and “Date Night” (“Little Miss Sunshine” was just that one time and voices don’t count).

In summation, you broke my heart, Steve Carell. You broke my heart twice.

It’s been hard to stay upset, because Carell’s departure has been handled so expertly up to this point — wrapping up plotlines like “Threat Level Midnight” and Todd Packer, culminating in last week’s marriage proposal to Holly Flax, which was perfect. I’m only dreading Will Ferrell’s guest appearances over the next few weeks, since he’s just going to distract me from my final goodbye to Michael Scott.

I really wish Steve Carell wasn’t doing this. He’s cheating me and all of his viewers of the chance to see Michael’s wedding, married Michael and especially Michael as a father — experiences he owes to us for following his journey for almost 150 episodes over the past six years.

Thanks for all the memories Steve, but you and I are through. Forever.

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