A Place of 'No, Get the F*ck Away From Me'

A place of Yes?


Pssshhhh. Please.

More like the exact opposite in my case. Lately, I've learned that the best way to not have your heart broken is to act like you don't have one. Yup. You heard right. Act like a dick. [Ladies, amidst my moment of hypocrisy, I am indeed speaking to you.] These days, members of the male species are now pursuing me. Quite a few of them actually. And yet I'm somehow annoyed at the thought of dating. Closed off. Scared. Cringing. Downright bitchy. Appalled at the idea of second date. Let alone a first date. 

So why am I acting like this? Why do women act like this in general? This change of power structure that occurs when one is guarded can be liberating, but it's a bit of a kick in the gut, too-- because it's obvious that I'm still hurt by all that's gone on between myself and a certain someone. And I've encountered several of you perfectly wonderful ladies lately who are post-breakup, mid-breakup, pre-breakup (and doing the infamous back & forth nonsense), or, in my case: still hurting 10 months after breakup. Some of you have even come to me for advice (which is laughable actually), but this one's for you:

So, let's face it, my life is worlds different today than it was a year+ ago. I'm on a different coast, in a different city, with a different climate, in a new career, I have a car, and I'm *cough* single. Last Summer, I was in love, discussing marriage, babies and the possibility of moving to England in a few years. All for the one I loved. It sounds romantic and your first reaction might be to feel sorry for me, but, if anything, I'm too blame for a lot of this. Deep down, I knew it wasn't right from the get-go. I knew that he wasn't a nice guy. I knew he wasn't The One. I knew that I didn't want to live in England. I knew that I deserved better. Instead, I decided to get all cozy with my ol' buddy, Denial, for many many months. I was 25 lbs lighter and I had to medicate myself in order to sleep at night, because the stress and angst of the relationship that I was in were too much to handle, let alone have an appetite during; yet I was so attracted to him, the passion and the power of it all to wake up and realize that what we were doing was seriously unhealthy. My life used to consist of painfully and anxiously waiting by my godforsaken phone for an email, a text, or even, godforbid, a personal phone call from my wireless carrier telling me that "for the past 17 hours, 42 minutes and 17 seconds, your wireless service endured a freak technological glitch; thus, resulting in any calls, texts, emails from a certain blonde, blue-eyed Englishman unable to come through".... 


I mean, is that too much to ask?? 


[side note: Ladies, if your relationship is making you do stupid shit like this, GET THE EFF OUT.]


Obviously. I should've known.

I was willing, with every fiber in my body, for some utterly detached asshole to love me back. And even when he told me he loved me, it's as though I secretly knew he could never amount to his words, yet I stayed in the relationship like a chump until it literally exploded in the end. And then there were the few weeks after my breakup..... Wowza. Can you say, "Hot Mess?" That was me. During this time, I managed to meet a decent guy (who's still a good friend to this day-- phew! I managed to not scare him away). He took me out, kept me busy, distracted me, spent money on me (my ex made an ungodly amount of money and would hardly ever treat me to dinner). But this new guy showed me chivalry and compassion. For a minute there, I thought I had survived the breakup and had the ability and strength to move on, until one morning I realized that this was false. (Are you ready for this monstrosity of pathetic-ness?) He had his arms around me and with the way we were laying, only his arms were in my view. Laying there and trying to enjoy the end to a fun weekend, I started to look at and compare his hands and arms to my ex's. I laid there for almost twenty minutes and it was as if I was trying to turn his hands into my ex's.... I was in my former love's arms and that suddenly I'd wake up and this separation and 7-week long nightmare will have just been a very, very, VERY bad dream. But instead, I realized the crazy shit that I was doing and tears started to fall down my face. It was then and there I realized that moving cross-country was in fact a good idea and that, most importantly, I needed to take time for myself. Just me. Cold, harsh reality of ME. No amount of chivalry, a new guy, or a matter of weeks were going to change the fact that my heart was still broken. Shattered, in fact. I needed time to myself. 


And that's what I did. That's what I've been doing these past 10 months. Sure, it's been a bumpy road. And sure, I have my ups and downs-- especially after He Who Must Not Be Named recently emailed me out of blue, after 6 months of not communicating whatsoever: uncharacteristically thinking of me, wondering how I was. For once. Being his typical selfish, impeccably untimely self. And I still have my moments of ridiculous nostalgia, too. The times when I have to whip out my Kings of Leon albums that he insisted on buying me because they were his favorite, even though I secretly loathe the band. Every time I hear the lead singer's voice, it feels like someone is stabbing me in the heart and burning it simultaneously...... yet I still listen to them. On repeat. With my heart racing and aching. I still miss him, not gonna lie. Terribly sometimes. And if I meet someone with a British accent, a little piece of me dies inside. No matter how short of time that we were together, he still got to me. And our love was a great love... at one point. But my anger most definitely surpasses my emotion. And that's the way the cookie is going to crumble for a little while longer. I know that I'm better off without him. That's an understatement.

But I'm prevailing. And I'm actually very happy with where I'm at in life currently. I not only forgot how much fun life if, but I forgot that I'M fun. A lot of fun. The whole breakup thing still stings like a mother, trust me-- but I know that I deserve the best, just like most girls do. And we're all allowed to be guarded now and again. The next several men whom I meet, date, fall for, etc. may have to pay for what the last asshole did, but so be it. 


Most importantly, ladies, we must all realize that obstacles don't have to stop you. If you run unto a wall,  don't turn around and give up. Figure out how to climb it, go through it, or work around it............... OR, hire that hit man whom I referred to you. Either or. 






--Emily