How not to break up

I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking when I sobbed “I just think you’re so fit” down the phone to the latest and soon-to-be mildly victimised offender. Was it that a small part of me believed he might turn around and proclaim that he’d made a huge mistake, especially after my small declaration of desperation? Probably. That, however, was only the beginning of an eight month stint of ridiculous trail of thought, which naturally implicated an eight month bizarre and unreasonable path of action.

Sobbing on the floor of the library wasn’t one of the high points, but we’ve all been there. Well, probably not literally on the library floor, but certainly something similar. It’s unfortunate that at some point (I understand you may not believe me right now – still treating you to bottled goodness of Sauvignon Blanc and five course home-cooked wonders of romanticism?), relationships end.

From my own experience and from observing near-identical behaviour from those around me, let me draw a few conclusions that could help you bypass nearly a year’s worth of idiocy.

Never take a glass of wine to bed.

I understand this makes me sound like a raging alcoholic, but seriously, it will cross your mind. Go out with your friends. Get trashed. And then go to bed with a glass of water.

Tackle the morning sadness head-on.

Put on a super fit outfit, do your hair and make-up and smile. Walking around in your Jacky Ws and last year’s uni hoodie that has journeyed through the washing machine once too often is going to do nothing but confirm in his mind, as well as everybody else’s, that he made a wise decision.

Take up a new hobby. Immediately.

Something sporty kills many birds with just the one stone. It fills up potential moping time and contributes to the next point:

There is no point in famine protests.

Seriously… you’ll be hungry. The enthusiasm to attain the ‘new you’ won’t last. And it’ll just make you mope even more. Take one or two evenings where you binge on everything and anything. Do it until you feel sick. It’ll be a while before you consider them as snacks again. Exercise with a good diet = radiance.

No, you cannot be friends.

Not now. Not next term. Not next year. Let’s face it, the reason for sustaining a friendship is merely out of vague hope for a revitalisation of your former status. This isn’t going to happen. Don’t try and convince yourself. Don’t send heartfelt messages. They’re not appreciated, highly awkward and make you look silly. Save yourself. I know you’re thinking it is possible, even likely, that he can be won back… but this is not the case. Delete his number. Delete him from Facebook. And delete all messages ever associated with him.

Sing loudly to the Glee soundtrack…

On your own. With friends. It’s irrelevant, but do it often until you feel like you’ve sung it all out. It may even bring a smile to passersby – at least someone’s happy. One day the songs will come on, and you will realise that you have no real feeling attached to them anymore.

This advice is merely the beginning. It’s not easy to overcome such boy-related trauma. But you can really save yourself a lot of hassle, unnecessary tears from hopeless hoping and time, if you just follow the tips above.

Then again, you and I both know that this isn’t what you want to hear. Put on Elton John, sing/sob, eat ice cream and send saddening emails. The end result is the same; I promise. One just takes a fraction of the time.