January is National Break Up month, but I think it needs to be changed to April. It seems every relationship around me has dissolved with the changing of the weather. At least everyone involved can play Frisbee now while they commiserate.
Relationships don’t tend to end very amicably. Unless you’re Zach and you’re letting Kelly go because she thinks she’d be much happier with Jeff, the cool college student, they tend to end badly.
Why does it have to end so badly though? You both obviously cared enough about each other to spend all that time together, whether it be four days or four years.
Lo and behold it actually doesn’t have to end in bloodshed, and you can maintain some semblance of a friendship if that’s what you truly desire.
Firstly, leave your sparring gloves at the gym. There’s absolutely no reason for the two of you to call it quits and then demonize the other for some semblance of power in the situation. I doubt very heavily that she is a cold-hearted evil bitch and I’m sure his penis could not physically be that small. It’s just not possible.
You’re also going to have to stow the photos and other memories. Don’t sit in the dark listening to “Endless Love” while pining over your sweetie’s picture or favorite T-shirt or stray hairs you snagged from her brush.
Just put them away. Don’t throw them away, or get drunk and burn them. Wait until you’re far enough removed from the situation to make that choice. Just put them away.
Hang out with your friends. Guys, go to the bar and make asses of yourselves or just hang out and play Xbox. Ladies, talk scrunchies or “Sex and The City 2,” or whatever the hell it is you people talk about when you have your clandestine get-togethers.
Don’t call her late at night. It’s pathetic. And also highly illogical in this day and age where you can’t just hang up without her knowing it’s you. And don’t sit in front of her house with binoculars to see what she’s up to.
Don’t utter the time-tested phrase “I’ve got to get her back.” It ended for a reason. Relationships end, people change and grow apart from each other. Getting back together and vowing to fix your flaws and become exactly what your ex wants you to be is a dangerous game.
Nine times out of ten it turns into a vicious cycle, becoming a kind of sick role-play where you take turns being the dumper and the dumpee. Then the whole thing turns into a joke and you’re constantly known as “that couple.”
Even your mother will eventually lose sympathy when you call her, verklempt and heartbroken, after it was already seemingly broken seventeen times before.
Don’t go for the rebound. It’s tempting, and everyone at one point or another has fallen victim to that particular siren’s whiles, but it’s not worth it. The scent of somebody else on your pillow won’t overwhelm his or hers. Use Clorox for that.
And when the morning comes, and that person is marginally less attractive, their taste is still on your lips and their underwear is still on your floor, the pain and the suck are still there as well.
It’s going to be awful for quite some time, but it’s like your most annoying friend, and I feel their name is Cheryl/Kyle always says, “There are other fish in the sea.”
You’re not Hemingway’s titular Old Man, you’ll land one.
And lastly, handle it your own way. Don’t take advice from anybody. Least of all somebody you’ve never met who dealt with his most recent breakup by sobbing uncontrollably for several hours and drinking a bottle of Jameson.
And then searching the cupboards for more and turning up nothing like an alcoholic Old Mother Hubbard, then proceeding to sob uncontrollably for several more hours while listening to Frightened Rabbit’s “The Midnight Organ Flight,” on an endless loop.
Especially don’t listen to that guy.
