Happily ever after - NOT
Just when
you thought you were practically married with children (or at the very least
kept a toothbrush at his flat); the break-up comes from out of the blue. Or, scenario two, you might have been
expecting it for weeks. Whatever the
circumstances, nothing makes the trauma of a break-up any easier. You can forget about it ‘cutting both ways’,
the pain and punctured pride of a split always feels more like you’ve undergone full body surgery
– without even the plastic yet perfect figure to show for it afterwards. Despite this, what awaits is still a long and
winding road to recovery.
It’s
universal and incontrovertible truth that breaking up is hard to do – but it’s
doubly difficult if you’ve quite literally been screwed and chucked. Chances
are you didn’t even get an orgasm out of the experience…so you’ve been shunned
and short-changed: it really is a bloody hard life. Your immediate thought, naturally, is Am I
really bad in bed? (Trust me, this is unlikely.) The next: Should I have braved that Brazillian?
Well, please rest assured on that one too – the male attention span being what
it is, he probably wasn’t down there long enough to notice your topiary…if you
were lucky enough for him to be down under in the first place, that is. We know men who have split with women because
of an infrequency of blow jobs, but God forbid you should ever complain to them
about their resounding lack of reciprocation.
Frankly, with some men, you are lucky if the foreplay involves anything
more than unwrapping the condom (though, clearly, there are others who can take
you to seventh heaven with a simple demonstration of their Cardbury’s Crème Egg
techniques – less, ‘How do you eat yours?’ more ‘My God, how do you do that?’
As a
couple, you may have been together for days, weeks or months (hell, maybe even
years – if so, I’m impressed), but whatever the length of liaison, he has now
ended it. He’s dumped you. Whatever you do, don’t auction all your
belongings on eBay in recognition of the fact that your life is now officially
over – as it most certainly is not. A
view shared by most, don’t be a woman scorned, be a woman savvy enough to come
out of this with your head held high. Maintain your dignity – at least until
he’s not around to see you cry.
Gosh you can tell the years I'm clocking on. I am sounding more and more like those annoying agony aunts or uncles that keep dishing out advise on how to deal with heartbreak (you can
never be too certain these days as a Joan could on the flipside turn out to be
John). I don’t know why it’s called heartbreak, it
should be termed heartburn or emotional terrorism seeing as that’s a word which
is “hip”.