So it would appear I am, once again back in the rather daunting and incredibly tiring world of singledom, after seven months of being an ‘Us’, ‘We’, ‘Babe’ etc. etc. I am now just a ‘Me’ again. This is something I am ALL to used to being, so much like my favourite and most comfy old boots, I have once again embraced single life and all that comes with it.
I am not over-the-moon about his decision (read: would rather like to shove him off a curb or a low bench. Hard) but I have come to the conclusion that sadly, unlike your parents and grandparents, some people are simply not contractually obliged to love you. In fact, its pretty much out of your hands with the whole love- fate thing, and growing older, having more relationships and meeting more men does not make it any easier. Despite having been through break-ups before, there is no real preparation for how shitty it is. How much wine you actually want to drink during the whole sorry affair, and how much you just want to lounge about in pajamas, listening to Tom O’Dell’s album on repeat and therapeutically deleting any past evidence of you ever being happy together as a couple, whilst crying to anyone who will listen or happens to be within a 3 mile radius of you. THANKFULLY, I have only done some of the above. Real talk.
Instead of dwelling, in above manner, on his decision and acting like a desperate loon, sending thousands of texts/ emails/ tweets/ facebook messages, and leaving 100’s of missed calls etc.- circa 16 year-olds in the playground- I have been grown up and simply continued living my life, sans boyf. Annoyingly, there is no right or wrong way to handle break-ups and as previously mentioned, you simply cannot force another to love you, you just have to roll with it. This then leaves only one option- to step up, grow some thick skin and fill every waking hour I now find myself having spare, with various exercise classes- now embracing Legs, bums and Tums as I once embraced a rather dishy, welsh rugby player.
The best advice and general wonderful messages from my nearest and dearest comforts me through the lower ‘Potentially-crying-in-supermarket’ moments, when I find myself seriously contemplating a life filled with dogs-not men- and unknowingly scowling at any passing couple. But I am now slowly coming to terms with months- potentially years- on my own, again, wearing bedsocks because its freezing in bed, and inviting my girlfriends as my plus ones to all future family/ friend events.
In my current ‘funk’, I catch myself saying things I would never usually even BELIEVE, as the ever-optimistic, hopelessly romantic, kinda gal. However genuine fears such as “I will now die alone” “I will never find anyone EVER AGAIN” *dramatically places hand on forehead* are now falling out of my mouth. I never thought for one moment in my last single-girl life, that I wouldn’t find someone and even found the whole thing all rather exciting, but now I can’t actually stomach the idea of having to go through the drama of meeting someone new. The idea presently makes me want to vom. Probably on the poor, unsuspecting man in front of me who only asked me for directions to Greggs.
I am however clued up enough to know this will not last, I will tone ‘down’ on the gym sessions eventually, embrace bed socks once again and get over the current vom-inducing fear I have for dating. This time round it has to be easier, right?! Because THAT’S how life works…
Oh, I will also step away from Pinterest and those awful ‘Boyfriend quote’ memes that constantly clog up my feed because holding onto the ‘fairytale love’ ideal is for 6 yr olds, and those unusual, lucky beings who have found their prince charming already…
Or Exhibit B: (As one of my favourite writers I begrudge him slightly for being here BUT, SERIOUSLY!?)
Ugh. Again. *insert some message about unfinished business etc. here*
When all I actually want to scream is this: