How To Get D*mped

There’s really no good way. 

Done and done.  Fastest post ever written. 

Although I do think there are ways to make a shitty situation less shitty.  I guess I could tell you how I think that might happen, by imparting some unofficial/official break-up guidelines I have devised for myself.  Starting with:

You Were Not D*mped…Even If You Were

When forced to discuss the end of a relationship/tryst/whatever, I always go with the non-specific, “Orlando and I broke up.”  Or “Things with Van and I are over.”  Now, I am no less d*mped by utilizing these euphemisms, but at least I don’t feel more d*mped. The word “d*mped” makes you feel more d*mped, right?  It’s just a shitty word—literally, it is frequently used as a synonym for shit.  Gross.  Break-ups are complicated, people on both sides are hurt and feel guilt and pain and angst.  “D*mped” reduces it all to an image of some guy dropping a girl on the curb.  Don’t say it. You weren’t dumped. It was complicated.  It didn’t happen like that.  Even if it did.

Call Sam

After Van and I had been dating a year he said the following:

“If we ever do break up I think it can go one of two ways.”

“How’s that?”

“Either we’ll just drift apart and slowly stop speaking to each other or we’ll have a huge, blow-out train-wreck fight with like punches being thrown and doors being slammed.” 

“Yeah, well, we both know it’s not gonna be the first thing.”

We were on the street when we broke up so we couldn’t slam any doors, but the rest was pretty much true.  When I got home that night sobbing, incredibly drunk, having just ended a two-year relationship and additionally having verbally accosted my friend, Josie I knew there was only one person to call. 

Sam left a party he had been at with his girlfriend, to come to my apartment at 2 am.  When I opened the door, mascara dripping down my face, wearing an outfit he helped me pick out his first words were, “Oh no!  But you still look super hot.”

He then put in a DVD of Fraggle Rock and stayed with me until I fell asleep.  Clearly, Sam is a great friend; but it’s not just that he’s a great friend, who makes me laugh and puts everything into it’s appropriate perspective, it’s that he is a non-threatening straight man who tells me I’m pretty and validates my awesomeness.  You should have a Sam for when you break up with someone.  It’s very important.  If you are short one, you can call mine.  Here’s his number: 212.647. 9218…………

…… Yeah. That’s so not his number—Sam’s not even his real name.  But that number will lead you to great Thai delivery, which may come in handy on your One Day.

You Get One Day

After someone breaks up with you, you are allowed One Day completely off.   Completely. You don’t have to leave your couch. I’ll even write you a doctor’s note excusing you from everything—all professional and social interactions may be suspended during this 24 hours.

During this time, I recommend TV Marathons.  I personally enjoy House.  Jane says House is too predictable to marathon satisfactorily, but I prefer to think of it as reliable—it feels comforting after someone has d*mped me to know that I can always count on House being an asshole to Cuddy and Wilson prompting an epiphany 45 minutes into the episode.  My sister likes marathons of Law and Order: SVU, which I’m normally okay with, but post-break-up I don’t feel like watching a bunch of dudes fuck chicks against their will.  You know?  I think How I Met Your Mother can be good times—Ted falls in love with a lot of women, and the relationships fail, but we know in spite of all the times his heart gets broken that eventually he meets the girl he’s been waiting for…that’s encouraging… we hope…unless the series has a LOST-esque ending and it turns out the couch in the den is actually purgatory and those kids are visions of what might have been...

Also on your One Day, you are allowed to eat anything you desire and you don’t have to feel bad about it.  You can totally binge on the aforementioned Thai food, or eat nothing at all, if you so choose.  The One Day of my last break-up I ate a candy necklace.  That’s all.  Most days I would be like, “Jacey, you should eat something of more substance.”  But it was my One Day, so I said, “Fuck that!  If all you want to eat is a candy necklace.  Go to town, girl.  It’s your day.  After all, you only get one.”

Actually, You Get Two Days

You don’t get two days to sit on your couch, but you get two days to eat whatever you want.  I mean, if all you ate on your One Day was a candy necklace, you may have to ease your way back into foods that are made of more than sugar and red dye #7.  But that’s it!  Two days.  Then you need to look in the mirror and remind yourself…

You Are Still Hot

You get two days to quit life.  You can take many more than two days to be sad, but you can only take two days to cry on your couch in your sweatpants.  Then you must rejoin the world of the living.

So for the love of God, take a shower. You may not want to.  You may not feel like putting forth the effort to be desirable in any way.  But, you must.

Ladies:  Do not cut your hair because you are sad, and need a change.  This almost never works out. 

Fellas: Do not grow “the break-up beard” as a way to ward off women. This NEVER works out.  Ever.  In fact, let’s all just keep shaving things as we normally would: faces, legs, other things…

Put on make-up (if that’s your thing), wear clothes you like, make your hair look pretty.  No one feels good about themselves when they haven’t showered in a week and are on Day Three with their hair in a ponytail, rockin’ the same sports bra they’ve had on since they were d*mped. 

This is the advice I’m most genuine about.  Truly.  You just broke up with someone.  You probably have more time than you used to.  Invest that time back into your self.  Look wonderful—smile maybe—your insides feel better when your outsides feel better.  I promise.

Hugs Not Drugs… Actually, Maybe Not Hugs Either

You know what doesn’t make your insides feel better—copious amounts of booze and lots of pot. Ooh!  Or cigarettes.  I have more than one friend who decided becoming a smoker was the way to get over their ex.  Don’t do that.  You will feel better for like a second, and then you’ll be like, “Shit, I’m a grown ass man pumping crap into my body to get over some bitch.  How sad is that?”   I use dudes in this example, because my dude friends seem to do this more than my lady friends.

Sam once quoted his Mama to me, and she was quoting George Herbert who said: “The best revenge is living well.”  So live well!  Truly, just as many of my dude friends have picked up horrible habits like banging every girl they see or chain smoking after their break-ups I have friends whose break-ups have inspired them to work up enough money to pay off all their student debt or write amazing songs about heartbreak, or in one case actually finish a novel.  Be that guy.  That guy is awesome.  And FYI: George Herbert was a priest in the 1500’s so he probably didn’t think “living well” meant getting wasted and screwing strippers to enact revenge upon your exes.  I’m just saying.

This leads me to my next point: a lot of people will tell you that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.  But, a lot of people wear Crocs too, so what does that tell you?

I have gotten under someone to get over someone.  I’m not proud, but it’s happened once…maybe twice.  It has never made me feel better.  In fact, it has always made me feel worse, because invariably I would be under some dude thinking about the dude I was trying to get over.  It’s a bad situation.  Don’t do it.  Focus on friends, not on fuck-buddies.

Facebook Is Not Your Friend

Put a 48 Hour hold on all facebooking/tweeting/foursquaring post break-up. 

When you post a status like, “There’s a light in my eyes that’s too bright to see.  There’s a pain in my heart where you used to be.” you are not helping your cause.  No one has ever thought, “You know what I miss most about my ex?  They were so needy and emo!  I loved that!” 

If you post something like, “It’s not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me” you are not helping your cause.  No one has ever thought, “You know what I miss most about my ex? They were so angry and demanding!  I loved that!”

If you post something like, “All the single ladies: put your hands up!”  you are not helping your cause.  No one has ever thought, “You know what I miss most about my ex?  They used to cover their pain with stupid song lyrics then run out and get drunk with their friends and bitch about me.  I loved that!”

It’s never happened.  Don’t do it.  Wait two days.  And when you absolutely must post something about yourself: keep it positive and keep it brief. 

Also: you are allowed to check your exes facebook/twitter/foursquare/whatever the fuck no more than once a day.  I already know you’re going to break this rule.  We all break this rule.  I’ve broken this rule at least twice since I started writing this post.  But breaking this rule will not make you feel better.  Trust me—I just broke it.  Do I feel better?  No.

JaNelle Says You Have Three Balls

JaNelle is my mom.  She says you have three balls.  Congratulations.

JaNelle says that in your life, you should always have three balls in the air, because you can pretty much guarantee that at any given moment at least one of those balls is going to fall to shit (she mixes metaphors when she’s trying to make a point.)  The point in this case is that any relationship you are in can only constitute one ball in your juggling act.  If that balls drops—you still have two other balls to play with (I’m worried I may be mixing metaphors now.)

In my life, I have my career as one ball that sort of bounces in and out of play.  I would say my writing is a separate ball. I always have 2-3 day jobs I’m juggling, so that’s one ball; and then beyond that I have my family,  that’s an important ball. I think a lot of people would put their faith as a ball (I’m not sure I juggle that ball, but I think it is important for many people), and then I have my home, which is always an easy ball to focus on when the other balls are shaky, and of course I have my friends—a lot of amazing friends.  Friends are important, because my family is unconditionally supportive of me, but they are far away.  When I drop a ball, it’s nice that I have lots of friends close by to play with instead.

So those are my guidelines.  I think I’ve been helped by attempting to follow them—they give me a sense of control in a world of chaos.  Although as I review them, it occurs to me that I have a lot of balls in the air…More than three.  My focus is pulled a lot different directions.  It sort of begs the question, “Am I the one dropping the ball in my relationships?”  Hmmm… To Be Continued J