To say that break-ups are hard would be a fucking understatement.
Break ups are devastating and no matter how many you’ve had in the past they still pack a punch hard enough to leave you crying on the other side of your face.
I recently broke up with my long-term missus, it was an amicable break up, something new to me, so I falsely led myself to believe it would be different this time around, how wrong I was. An amicable break-up does have its benefits, you feel like an actual adult for once; you’ve made a realistic decision that the relationship is no longer working and you should terminate it. It’s a damn sight better than belongings being thrown from a window while you trade expletives at the top of your lungs in front on the curtain twitching neighbours. But to be fair no matter which route you take; amicable or trading blows on the street until the police turn up, you still end up in the same emotional state; lonely and heartbroken.
Obviously the old saying goes; “time heals all wounds”, not strictly true, but from my experience it certainly aids with heartache [as in sorrow, if your heart actually physically aches, go and see a doctor imminently, time may not heal that problem]. The problem is what do you do in that time because you’re whole life has altered drastically. The person that you’ve spent the majority of your time with other the last two years is no longer around and just to top things off, you’re two housemates that haven’t been in relationships for ages finally get girlfriends, that really highlights your loneliness. People ask if you’re ok, you lie and say; “Yes”, hoping that they pick up on the fact you aren’t, but they don’t, they’re idiots, they take your response at face value. This then only serves as a reminder that the one person that knows you best and can see through your lies has left. You feel isolated. You cry into your pillow. You think about all the good times you had together. You cry into your pillow some more. You get that overwhelming feeling that you’ve made a mistake. You cry into your pillow again. You can’t sleep at night because the double bed feels empty, plus your pillow is damp and uncomfortable.
Soon you come to terms with the loss. You begin to accept that you’ll never get a chance to relive that wonderful day you spent together in Skegness [in all honesty that was a terrific day]. And while it’s difficult to come to terms with the fact that you will no longer make memories like that, you begin to realise that you no longer have to have the same stagnant, long-winded conversation about what the fuck we’re going to eat tonight. You can actually make plans with the few reminding friends you have left without checking in with your other half as to what her/our plans are over the coming days/weeks/months. You can engage in sexual activities with other people [theoretically, as it’s been a while since you approached a female]. You can watch rap battles on YouTube without that moaning sound in the background, grumbling over the best punchlines. Yes that double bed still seems empty, but now you get the comfortable side, all the duvet and to top if off the pillows have dried.
Eventually normality prevails, until you begin the very same cycle with the next person to come along.
