Ahh, l'amour. Or, as the French call it, "le humpy jumpy." It's a funny thing us humans do to each other, getting all stupid in love with one another, touching tongues, watching Jennifer Aniston films, and feeling this intense longing for the presence of someone else in a way that curiously wanes over time and sometimes even turns into resentment. But the reasons for how and why we love are not important for us just now, no, we're going to focus on what happens when that love is gone and we're all mopey and shitty and depressed.
And bae was like, "Nah, we ain't watching Big Bang again."
I was in love with a girl once, a few years ago. She was gorgeous in that way that people would look at the two of us together and just obviously assume she wasn't with me. And truth be told, we were never together in the way I wanted. She was my friend, and she was very aware of my feelings, as I had just entered a curious phase of my life where I wore my heart on my sleeve and said and did whatever I felt when I felt it and let people accept or reject me as I truly was, no guile or being coy, just a faceful of Felix. But she did accept me.
We spent five days a week together in a post-graduate class but still found enough to enjoy in one another to party every weekend, see movies, go to dinner, basically date in all but name. We weren't a couple; we were great friends. But I did fall in love with her. And at the end of our year she got an amazing job in another city and moved away. And for a solid month we kept in touch online. And then it dwindled, and within three months we stopped speaking. To this day, about a decade later, I have never heard from her again. She was just gone, and I was crushed.
Like this nut.
I tried to find her for a while but came up with nothing. I assume if I had found her she wouldn't want to speak with me, but I don't know why. I had ostracized myself, but I don't know how. Too pushy? Too Needy? Too ruggedly handsome and charming? No idea. Didn't know then, don't know now. Never will.
I'm not sure what hurt me more, that I lost someone I cared for or that I didn't know why. But it did hurt. And that experience, along with one or two others, helped me figure out a few reactions to heartbreak that are just shitty ideas.
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I've never tried this one myself, because it's not in my character, but dammit if I don't see it a lot on TV, movies, and even in songs. Someone cheats on you or leaves you, and for some reason the response is to maybe destroy them as a person in a way that is on par with serial killer for its sinister leanings and insanely disturbing acts. After all, we're all aware that men have had their penises cut off for cheating, and god knows how many women have endured full on MMA-style brutality at the hands of jealous husbands and boyfriends.
So let me take the bold stance of suggesting violence, whether against your ex or their belongings, is a shitty way to deal with heartache, one you should avoid. Of course you want to lash out when you're hurt, but also, don't be a literal maniac. Insanity doesn't look good on anyone, and if you think it's funny to light someone's wardrobe on fire just because they had sex with someone else, you're basically telling anyone you may one day get into a relationship with that you're as unstable as a Jenga game on an epileptic's back, and you're not worth dealing with because you're as good with anger as a starving tiger is with babies.
When you get angry, you'd do well in life to learn ways to deal with it that aren't felonious and/or don't let others know they should walk behind you without making noise lest they get your attention, make eye contact, and have to run screaming for help into the night. Maybe you could have a drink, eat a whole pizza, and watch bad movies. Maybe that's better than shoving a curling iron in someone's ass. Ever try that?
Those of us less inclined to destroy others may instead look to destroy ourselves. It's easy and seems fun at first, which is why it's so popular, just ask Captain Morgan or Gary Smirnoff.
When faced with some form of rejection or loss, it's pretty easy to decide that you somehow did this to yourself and that the best thing you could do now, knowing you're a big ol' sack of losing loserishness who loses like a losing loser at a losing competition is to maybe get all shitty. So you drink. You do drugs. You have sex with CHUDs and use Skittles wrappers as protection. You get tribal tattoos. It's not pretty.
This method is nefarious, because you tend to be aware it's a bad idea, but you think it's still necessary because you're bad in some way, you deserve it, or you want to drown out the shitty feelings, and the best way to scour such things from your memory is with a thin paste made from meth and Everclear.
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The reason self-destruction is such a shitty plan of action should be clear -- you're already broken in some way, so how is a further breakdown going to help things? That's like treating dysentery by hitting up an all-you-can-eat Mexican buffet served out of the back of a van by a guy who keeps scratching his own ass crack.
On some level, we all know punishing ourselves isn't going to make anything better, even if the reason we're now single is entirely our fault. Even if you did some shitbird thing, like cheat on your partner, what good can come out of you switching from being an asshole to them to being an asshole to yourself? You're just perpetuating your assholery, which is clearly your problem to begin with. That needs to be done away with in a more constructive, less brain-cell melting way.