We’ve all been there, whether it was your decision or not the stages of the breakup, breakover or in between stage of doom can be both painful, comical and edging on borderline crazy for all….
* The Initial pin in the balloon
It’s happened, it’s shit. It might have come from nowhere, it might have been planned but there’s that odd floaty sensation where time passes through you, you sob like a baby, slightly intoxicated in the bath blowing your nose on a stray towel flicking through the phone thinking who the hell to call and who will be able to interpret your small sniveling animal sounds at this time on a Sunday and not want to punch you for it.
* The Denial Phase
You wake up, wooly headed look at your phone for the time and think did that actually just happen, was it a dream, were you eating cheese before bed again? Are they going to call you up and say it was a shit April fool #LOL. It wasn’t, you feel like you might puke and have a full day of work to get through because a sprained heart isn’t a legitimate medical excuse worthy of a doctors note and day in bed.
*The Get Me Out And Feed Me Wine Phase
You’ve been taken up by a girl friends to put the world to rights, they feed you with the necessary compliments, feed your ego and offer to reinstall your tinder account. It all sounds great, you can do this, they’ll be crawling back within a week but your vision settles over the third Gin and Tonic and no amount of Beyonce blasting in the car home can save you from crying into the token bite of a macdonalds poundsaver menu cheese burger and staring at your phone in blind hope.
* The 12 Hour I’m Fine Phase
Woooh the sun’s shining, there’s no half eaten bags of scratchings in my handbag, I like having my bed to myself, I can do this wayyy – then ‘sweet sweet loving’ plays on your ipod and you wanna throw your skinny latte to go at the nearest bus promoting a rom com. Even the bus is smug…
*The I Just Don’t Give A Shit Anymore, In fact I might Be Dead Mentality
The peak of self pity, PJs are certainly a legitimate day to day uniform. Underwear? Pah, saggy boobs are in and who said make-up was a day to day necessary anyway? You look like a hobo, you eat like one and probably smell like one to. The thought of leaving your bed is more effort then physically pausable as the ‘boy diet’ means you struggle to keep down more than half a bite of a badly made sandwich at a time. The duvet you’ve been spooning instead of them begins to smell more stale then of there left over scent and you can legitimately say that you’re getting all the vitamins you need for the penicillin brewing in your mouldy protein shake flask on the side.
Your subconscious along with those around you wake up and decide you are a foxy beast who needs to snap out of things. Throw out all the gifts, all their stuff, everything that reminds you of them EVERYTHING. Lets call a mate and dump it on their drive, lets throw a party , let’s make a dart board!
Okay so it would be pretty stupid to throw out a £60 bottle of Marc Jacobs perfume, your bedroom furniture the Jack Wills heated owl that is the only cure for your period pains and the only blouse that fits your tits. You won’t be able to see what you look like, work or smell decent plus will look like the Northway’s answer to Glenn Close in Fatal attraction.
*The First Meeting and Possession Exchange
Your room house has their trail from the stray cider cans, odd socks, clothes and sat nav to the inhaler in your handbag. They want it back and it needs to go. But parting with it is the first step, do you want to take that first step? You have the adrenaline rush , shakes and sit there thinking ‘what would Beyonce do?’ you do your hair, your make up you attempt to great them at the door in something other than your pjs for the first time in about 2 months. You are a classy bird after all.
*Moment of Weakness
It’s late on a friday, they call you because they miss you, you miss them too and with in an hour you’re back in bed with each other… #woops you think it’s all sorted in this false bubble of cuddles and companionship. You wake up think who the fuck is that? Oh wait…. was this all a dream. No it wasn’t amazeballs! Wait am I still drunk?
*The False Make-Up
You think it’s fine, you falsely beleive a snuggle and a shag solved everything. You’re there forgetting the heartache, the tears, and texting again like it’s some kind of fresh new fling in your silly messed up head.
*The Crazy Ass Woman Moment
Maybe I should just not take my pill? Yeh I’m 30 in 18 months might never get the chance again? WAIT YOU CRAZY ASS BUNNY BOILER WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? *takes two to be on the safe side and baths in dettol for good measure*
*The Fuck, Being Single Is Expensive
You suddenly have to make plans for the bank holiday cos as it turns out not everyone wants to watch Netflicks with you in your Pjs with unwashed hair and morning breath. Shit I have no money in my bank account, I still feel shit and am officially broke. Takeaway for two was way much cheaper.
*The FML This Is Real Stage
They’re not coming back, they saw you at the weekend cos they were sad and low, you were sad and low and you’re still sad and low. What’s for tea? man the idea of half a slice of cheese on toast with a large house white sounds really good… just one angry text and you cry throw yourself in a taxi home thinking that alternate surroundings would help but even there your bed has their imprint. Meals are replaced with caffeine, alcohol and vitamin pills – check out your breakover body. A packet of cheese strings counts of lunch dinner and tea right?
*The Forgetful Stage
You’re in co-op there’s ciders in the reduce isle you fill the basket, chuck in a few packets of haribo, get some of the reduced sandwiches for their lunchbox because they love that crap. Then you remember it’s just you and your sad lonely fridge to fill.
*The Ideas Phase
The oooh maybe I could go on holiday with the girls, move back to London, whip wooh! How about I go on that cringe dinner date show everyone likes? – Remember you are broke, shit with sun and can’t cook…
*The I Got A Text From Another Boy
How do I respond to this? Shit does this mean I can’t continue to wear Cath Kidson cotton kickers cos they were comfy? I don’t think I know how to go out in anything but leggings or Pjs… They’ll think I’m weird, wait I am weird. Shit SHIT block, delete? Too soon, maybe could arrange a coffee as friends sometime? Does that mean I have to moisturize and wear a push up bra? Nope too son.
*The Awkward Moment When Your Vagina Starts Talking To You
You think you’re going mad it’s like that little bit below your navel is having a chat- ‘oh hey you I’m really enjoying this break, it’s been great to have a sleep and not have to be alert and available at any given moment, but babeee should I really be looking like wolverine?’ Shit what does a packet of veet even look like anymore?
*The Total Eclipse of The Heart Conundrum
Sod it you don’t even care, your pissed you’re hurting and Magic FM has the best tunes… ‘Turn around brighttttt eyes, every now and then I fall apart, cos i need you now tonight and i need you morrrrreeee than ever’ then comes the No Doubt ‘i realllyyyy feeeel like i’m loosin’ my best friend, I can’t believe this could be the end…’ fuck It’s Monday, get a text asking you to keeep it down and the neighbors probably think you’ve lost it again.
*The Drunk Text Marathon
‘Hate you you bellend…’ ‘be like that then’ ‘did you ever love me anyway?’ ‘baby what’s up?’ ‘If you could choose between spagehetti hoops and baked beans who would you be?’ ‘how do I work my blind?’ ‘fuck you then!’ ‘sleep tight darling…xxx’ Wake up and you’re like NO NOO NOOOOOOOO! #oopsIdidItAgain
*The What’s Next Moment
There’s no answer but Taylor Swift, good pals and a decent nights sleep rather than waking up at five and snotting till six is probs a good shout babe