*Disclaimer: this is a more personal post. It probably sounds a lot like an 8th grader wrote it. There are also curse words. I’m sorry.
Sometimes I feel pissed off that I’m not Adele or Taylor Swift. I can’t break up with a dude (or 12) and put all the angst and disappointment I feel into a platinum record that resonates with every person in the world that’s ever experienced heartache. I don’t care what your musical taste is. It’s a universal truth that these women are masters at capturing the aftermath of a heart being squashed. They say everything we wish we could in a cooler, more poetic, three minute diddy. And really, this is the case of any good song, regardless of topic or genre or gender. A good song sings life and truth or the dream of it. But what a crazy great healing process that must be for the writer – turning love and loss into art. Also vulnerable. Super fucking vulnerable. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately and have decided to grow some nuts with my own writing. Not only do I want to share my stories more boldly, but I also want to do my part for the lovers out there. I can’t write a song, but I can write a wee blog post about how to approach an achy breaky heart. It should be stated that I don’t communicate any of this to present the false pretense that I have an active love life. Or that I’ve recently or ever been in a relationship. I so totally do not and have not. Take my advice for what it’s worth in light of my poor credentials. However, I’ve crushed and liked and loved. Even lately. Like any human seeking connection, whether plutonic or romantic, I have been rejected in this pursuit – more than once. I’ve had to move on a few times. In my most recent situation, I’ve combated feelings of despair with some pretty serious coping strategies that I’d like to impart upon all of my readers. (Thanks for all of your support, mom and grandma.)
When that guy doesn’t like you back, I recommend that you…
- Wake up and make pancakes. Your life goes on. But immediately following breakfast, change your hair. Whether your roommate cuts some bangs with big, purple scissors or you color it yourself with a box from Walgreens, new hair helps. I don’t know why. It’s just a fact of life.
- Tell your girlfriends in a mass text what happened. They will be on your side and encourage your face off. In addition to making you feel like a winner, they will offer you several nights of fun and a whiskey/chocolate beverage otherwise known as “break up potion”. Whiskey and chocolate are staples for the next 6 days.
- Cry, but in an upright position. I have no idea why that girl was “torn and lying naked on the floor” in that one song, but no dude is worth all that. Don’t be dramatic. Put some fucking stretchy pants on and lay on the couch like a sane person.
- Borrow a puppy for a few days. I’m not typically the type that enjoys the responsibility of another living thing relying on me for basic needs, but when you’re forced to not be selfish, it frees up your mind from replaying all those moments in your head. It doesn’t hurt that dogs are cute and like to cuddle. Spoon the heck out of that dog. Take it on walks so it doesn’t shit on your carpet. Nobody wants to clean that up and your time is more valuable than that.
- Buy 2 new items at the mall. In the classic masterpiece, Clueless, there’s a reason Cher, Dion and Ty always sought sanctuary there. It’s a healing place. It offers a gigantic plate of Chinese food for $6.00. When you see the couple with matching ponytails holding hands, you realize there is still hope because clearly there is someone for everyone. And most importantly: whenever the foreign man at the kiosk that somehow found the magic beauty crystals from a secret ocean comes towards you and says “lady, you want sample?” you can pretend you’re reading an important text on your phone. You’ll need the skill of ignorance for awkward run-ins with that boy you adored. It’s a training exercise and you’re at war. Because love is a battlefield, you guys.
My advice doesn’t go much further than this. As you can tell, none of it is very serious or helpful. The point of presenting it this way is to remind you that it’s really not the end of the world. Despite those “if only I was more ___” thoughts that make you feel like a loser in your current, painful reality, you’re going to be just fine. You’re already just fine. In fact, you’re kinda fabulous. Go through whatever process you need to go through, breathe the whole shitty situation out in one big breath when you’re ready, and then be done with it. When it’s right, a guy that looks great in plaid will think your quirks are adorable and want to marry you so he can enjoy them forever and see you naked every day. In the meantime, eat directly from the carton of ice cream because you can and laugh about everything because it’s funny.