In the aftermath of a break up it’s likely that you will go mildly insane. And this insanity may last for months, possibly even years. OK, not years, but it’s just so fun to kick you while you’re down. I mean, look at you. Wash your fucking face. In your haze of sickening pain and rejection you might lose sight of what’s important and try and actually wear a full-length neon jumpsuit. Don’t. For fucks sake, don’t. Instead, just read these helpful tips.
In the early stages you will probably tell yourself you’re fine. You’ll walk around surprising yourself constantly with just how fine you are. You’ll discover a new found respect for life and will greet each day full of disgusting enthusiasm. Friends will marvel at how well you are coping and will congratulate you and tell you how it’s so much better than last time when you wouldn’t shut the fuck up and to be honest made them want to sew up your face and clinically dehydrate you so you couldn’t moan and cry all the fucking time.
You are not fine. You are in denial. Be prepared for when the realisation of this hits and everything in your world comes crashing down and you feel like your face is melting off and you’re so sure you’re going to die alone you actually pay a complete stranger £500 a day to hang around you until your inevitable death due to loneliness you pissy little bitch.
The most important thing is to wallow. The sooner you get over the initial phase of debilitating rejection the better so really dive in to your pathetic loneliness and snotty sadness. Embarrass yourself in public. When everything reminds you of your ex, which it will, point and wail loudly like a dog being raped. Get down on your knees in the street and hold your arms up to the heavens, and shout ‘why? Why god have you forsaken me?’ (Doesn’t have to be god, pick your own religious representative like Vishnu or Tom Cruise).
Don’t be a stalker. When you’re really at your lowest you might think it’s OK to turn up at their house in the middle of the night and just casually knock on the door to ask for a DVD you think you might have left there that time your sister came round and you all made fajitas together and someone made a joke about the word ‘fajitas’ implying it was something sexual and you all laughed for ages and no I guess it’s not really important at 3am on a Wednesday it’s just that’s the last time you can remember feeling really happy and complete and do they not remember that? And how weird they don’t remember it and oh my fucking god sweet Jesus you’re in bed with someone else.
What did you expect, you dick.
Be wary with the internet. My friend recently broke up with his girlfriend of five years and immediately went on facebook and changed his status to ‘Sam is fucking alone that fucking bitch dumped him what a bitch’ (exact quote). He then changed his profile picture to one of him with his head in his heads and a look of pure hatred on his face, and went through all of their romantic photos and wrote new captions like ‘was this the point you realised you’d stopped loving me you whore?!’ FIT.
Go out all the time. Get fucked up and cultivate a reputation for being ‘bad news’ by doing everything in your power to make yourself the biggest sluttiest player in the scene, while secretly trying to find someone new to go out with as soon as possible so that the crushing aching pain will subside just a tiny amount. However, when you do find someone new to go out with, don’t actually go out with them, just date for a bit and wreak revenge on every member of the opposite sex by treating them like the shitty little rebound that they are.
They deserve it the shitty little rebound.
Don’t be creative. No one wants to read your poetry or hear that song you wrote and for the record you should never ever send your ex that email. No matter how good your metaphor involving your relationship and flowers dying is. Instead book a holiday to Spain (IN SEASON YOU FUCKING MORON), and use the lack of appetite heartbreak brings to lose your chubby. When you get back all tanned and hot, go to a party where your ex will be and act like you don’t give a shit. Your ex will immediately regret their decision and want you back but by that point it’ll be too late because you’ll have realised they’re a douchebag in a full-length neon jumpsuit.
This smug feeling of revenge, and only this, is the sure-fire break up cure.
WORDS: ELIZABETH SANKEY