The Other Side of Valentine's ....

Valentine's Day is approaching, and love is supposedly, and presumably for others, in the air. While the couples bask in each other's love and happily ever afters, the dark side of the moon is inhabited by the rest of us, which I refer to as the Minus Ones. Being a Minus One can actually be great, but there is a 50% chance that it is a status that was not the direct result of your decision, but rather the decision of your former Plus One, which let's face it, is as painful as hell. By digging through my old diaries (I was always a meticulous record keeper), I've actually discovered that there seemed to be quite a pattern in my post breakup reactions, which I divided into 5 stages that can span over months (in my teenage years and early twenties, I used to be invariably dumped in June, just before the onslaught of the Nordic EFL students, and therefore my post breakup mourning period took the whole summer), weeks, or whatever time it takes.

I have of course adapted these stages to cater for people my age, and since I can only write about what I know, I have focused mainly on the female perspective since

a. I'm not sure whether men actually suffer from being dumped;
b. I assume that any possible slight discomfort felt by men at the end of a relationship is pretty much taken care of by a beer, the separate or combined efforts of Inter, Milan, Juve, Man Utd, Liverpool and Chelsea together with the discovery of novel, unchartered and unexplored boobs.

I would like to specify that I [hope to] stand corrected, so please dear guys, go ahead and ... correct me.

Anyhoo, what I'm going to try and do today is go through a typical break-up/rejection, based on my own experiences, and on that of my closest friends. The specifics may not apply to everyone, but more or less, I tend to think that we're there:

The Nth Day - Armageddon.

You've just had the talk ("it's not you, it's me!"). The pain in your chest is similar to a stab wound that has shattered your heart in a thousand shards that pierce every internal organ every time you breathe. That is pretty much what happened...so cry. And when I say cry, I don't mean let an elegant, dainty tear roll down your cheeks; I mean sob loudly and wail like there is no tomorrow. Because, actually, there isn't, or at least not the tomorrow that you expected it to be. Also, OF COURSE, it is YOU and not him who is the problem, so take a deep breath and cry your heart out and turn your face into a puffy snotty structure made of goo. You are, of course not good enough for him, you suck and you deserve all the pain you're going through just because you couldn't keep him with you.

While you're at it, put Adele and some suicidal Coldplay (pre-Gwyneth Paltrow era)on a constant loop and send out a text to your friends informing them that you have been dumped, but that you don't want to talk about it. This is not the time to hear that there are plenty fish in the sea, that it is his loss and not yours, and that he is an ugly selfish bastard. You don't want any other fish, you're the one crying while he's comfortably chilled watching TV, and the ugly selfish bastard is actually who you want to be with.

Cry a bit more. And sleep.

N + 1 - Damn Allergies.

Wake up in the morning with swollen eyes that do not open more than slits and pray for the early onset of a mild flu that will allow you to stay home and cry. People with adequately developed immune systems are inevitably screwed. Check for pain in throat, head and ears, discover that there is none, and drag yourself to the shower. A broken heart is no excuse for poor hygiene. Pat yourself on the back if you manage to insert your contact lenses and don't bother with make-up. You're ugly anyway. Wear warm, comfortable clothes and avoid zips, because today is just NOT the day to be tugging at zips. You still suck, and you've still been dumped. Urges to cry today are expected to happen every 7 to 10 minutes.

Get to work and avoid eye contact, and if people remark on the state of your eyes and the sniffles, blame it on "damn allergies". Dump yourself on your desk and choose tasks that require time to dwell on your useless existence and to have a private cry. Language teachers should assign surprise class essays with the title "Men are useless sperm receptacles made of sh*t. Discuss.", "L-irgiel huwa recipjenti inutli ta' sperma maghmulin mill-h**a. Iddiskuti." "Gli uomini sono recipienti inutili di spermatozoi fatti di m***a. Discutete." You get my drift. Maths teachers should assign surprise algebra tests, and fail the boys in class. Good boys should also be given detention, because they're the worst in the lot for hiding their true a**hole selves.

Try to get through the whole day. Go home and watch an episode of How I Met Your Mother and/or Big Bang Theory while repeating the Mantra "My friends are getting married or getting pregnant. I'm just getting more awesome!". Cry. Read. Cry a bit more. Sleep.

N + 2 - Friend Love.

This is the day to allow your friends to love you. Gather around your closest female friends, and your closest male friends who are either gay or in a relationship (single guys are not allowed to give an opinion just in case they happen to have a non-objective interest in you), and allow them to tell you that you're lovely, sweet, beautiful, loving and that IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT that you got dumped. It would be ideal if such declarations are put in writing since you will not believe a word they say today but you will then resort to rereading them at a later stage in your mourning period. The office playlist should include Alternative Rock bands such as Train, Lifehouse, Snow Patrol, The Script, Three Doors Down and Counting Crows.

Urges to cry today are expected to happen every 20-25 minutes. Number of smiles expected: 5. Number of laughs: 1 or 2.

Go have a coffee with a male friend. Cry and embarrass him... it's ok, this is the one time he will let it pass. Then go home. Read, and cry a little more. Sleep.

N + 3 - Tourette's Syndrome

General dehydration is expected to set in imminently, so tear urges should be reduced drastically and replaced with sporadic and uncontrolled declarations of "f*** him!". It is possible that such interjections happen in public places and more loudly than anticipated. Do NOT explain yourself, but if necessary, give observers a look that denotes that:

Today is also the day to consider a haircut. Reconsider it. If you're doing it just to show him what he's missing, a short edgy haircut which you will hate after two weeks is not the right way of doing it because:

a. he won't care
b. he will hate it (although you don't care of course. F*** him!)
c. odds are that he dumped you for someone with long glossy hair that you are still a year or two away from attaining.

Of course, the above does not apply if the only reason you let your hair grow long was because he wanted you to. In that case, chop the damn locks away of course, and if it's long enough, actually do something charitable and donate it. And of course, F*** him!

N + 4 - Alternative Communication Channels

The anger starts dissipating and you actually realise that you miss sharing stuff with him. Who do you tell if you happen to be the last car in the rush hour traffic jam? Or if you walked straight into a cactus? Or if your strawberry yoghurt burst into your brand new handbag? (now that I think about it ... no bloody wonder I'm single) Well, this is the stage where you just accept that THAT particular channel of communication is gone for good, and that it is time to find an alternative.

Consequently, artists should paint (you might consider going abstract and drawing blood coming out of his eyes and slit throat, that should sell well on ebay), musicians should play, writers should write, insecure writers should blog. Athletes should run and have mental conversations to avoid asking themselves why on earth they're actually running like crazy for no particular reason and in no real direction. It is not the same thing, but for now it will do. Turn off your mobile, log off Facebook and resist the urge to get in touch.

N + 5 - Understanding

This the final stage, i.e. that point where your pain is now similar to a dulled constant pressure on your heart that sometimes spikes whenever you think of him, see a photo, or meet him randomly. This feeling will last a while, but it's bearable, and finally gives you a chance to take a good look at yourself, and to start understanding.

Forgive him. Forgive yourself. It's not his fault, and it is certainly not yours. Rather than not being good enough, it is more a question of not being "right" for him, and being thinner, taller, smarter or funnier will make no difference whatsoever. One day, when you will be ready to blindly love another (because, after all, the female heart never EVER learns), you will also realise that he was not right for you either. But until then, learn to love yourself, to stop being your harshest critic, and to appreciate the quirks, gaffes and eccentricities that make you YOU.

That is the other side of Valentine's Day, and in my humble opinion, the one that counts the most.

Love, always.

Gracie xx