So through circumstances completely unrelated to matters of the heart, I am once again residing in the solitary. No need to get into the why and how. Just know I’ve spent the better part of this fall pretending to prepare for a Telenovela audition. Spoiler alert: I’m still white.
For those of you unfamiliar with Single Lena, I am taking this blog post as opportunity to fill you in on the raw essence of lovely you will begin to come in contact with on the regular. When I lived with another, I went to bed at normal hours, always brushed my teeth, and occasionally took out the garbage. Now that I live alone, I have uninterrupted conversations with myself about the origins of the term “whoopsie daisy,” occasionally wear pajamas that resemble nudity, and learned to pee standing up. Only one of these things is a lie.
While in some ways my existence is improving, having attempted to make homemade cheerios and once again taken up the hobby of photographing my own breasts (only both of these things are true)…
I am still struggling with the acceptance of my unromantic status, as proven by the 53 episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond I’ve watched in the last week. But nevertheless, life is going on as if Breaking Bad and my relationship had never ended. I am back to my old unsettling ways and have already gone through a book of stamps, for all the letters I’ve been writing to prisoners. So I think I’m doing ok.
The girl whose probably under the influence of something special .
Organic pear and meth amphetamine…GRANOLA.
People who can accept a break up AND people who can’t and continue to wallow in their own misery pretending there is still a chance when there isn’t
I’m a professional. Or at least I like to think I am. Of what, I am not sure, but I want to believe that there is some sort of code of conduct I will be violating with this blog entry. Because really, it is only satisfying if I am crossing the line, killing the illusion, or breaking the fourth wall.
I say this because there comes a time in every professional’s life, when they must take personal matters into their own frustrated, disgusted hands and rant about it in an online forum. I choose this very blog, (twosortsofpeople.com “like it” on Facebook!), to do just that.
Because, ladies and gentlemen, I discovered something tonight. Yes, yes, I did. Something many of you, formerly heartbroken individuals may already be quite familiar with. There is something called a “break up.” For those of you familiar with the term, you may skip ahead. But for others, who have yet to experience such a travesty, continue reading, my sweet break up virgins. You shall quickly be enlightened. I’ll start from the beginning.
Break up: (n.) A term used to describe the end of a relationship between two people due to one party’s eternal lack of character, respect, and non-asshole behavior.
Straight out of Webster’s, ver-f***ing-batim.
On August 22, 2003, “Swampy”, a fine bloke of prominent upbringing, explained that a break up is “the most probable outcome after your girlfriend finds you playing hide the sausage with her sister.” Nice one, Swampy!
On July 21, 2006, “Babanash,” a well-educated fellow from Newport, Rhode Island, reveals that a break up is “the time when the person who you love the most kicks you hard on your ass and tells you to fuck off.” Poor, Baba.
On August 21, 2003, “EroticusPrime,” a middle-aged white man who sold his daughter’s Barbie collection on Ebay to buy the Full House dvd boxset, preaches that a break up is “when yo ho don’t want you no mo, and/or you don’t want her, you break up.” Werd.
As you can see, there are some consistent themes among the definitions of this term. Yet there still seems to be a disconnect for some people. Because what I learned tonight is that there are two kinds of people in the world:
People who can accept a break up AND people who can’t and wallow in their own misery pretending there is still a chance when there isn’t.
I understand that there are varying levels of intelligence. I get it. I’m not here to judge. Some people are simply not as intellectually gifted as others. Perhaps there are some people who take phrases like “I never want to talk to you again,” and “leave me alone,” and “stop calling me, I hate you,” as invitations for continuous contact, even, I don’t know, twelve months after a break up. Totally normal! Or is it?
After yet another vague and unaccounted for study, conducted by anonymous researchers, it has been found that only 1 in 27 individuals think this is normal behavior. The other 26 think you need to safely and quickly remove head from rectum, check for your ball sack, and deal with the fact that it is over. Yes, over. There shall be no miracle of miracles here that will reunite you with that special someone who wants nothing to do with you. Let it go, and for God’s sake, move on. It’s just getting pathetic.
Now, I may sound like a heartless, scum sucking, ho bag. But I preach a gospel of truth and unquestionable accuracy. There’s an acceptable amount of time you can contact an ex, before throwing in the towel and telling her to go die in a fire. A few weeks, of course. Three months, maybe. But twelve months later is not in that time frame.
SO for those of you who fall in the category of the kind of person who can’t accept a break up and chooses to wallow in your own misery pretending there is still a chance when there isn’t, I provide you with a top five list of ways, to NOT get over someone.
1. Three months after your breakup: Continue to text her several times a day, to no response, to remind her that she is a horrible person, and a whore for leaving you. Repeat this for the next several months, leaving her voicemails and sending her texts reminding her why no one will ever love her. Don’t forget to explain that you hope she is abused in her next relationship!
2. Six months after your breakup: Start a serious relationship with another person, only to continue asking, to no response, for sexual favors and other inappropriate things from your ex. She will continue to reject you, but that just means it’s working!
3. Ten months after your breakup: Impregnate your new girlfriend but pretend it is still your ex’s fault that your relationship didn’t work.
4. Eleven months after your breakup: Show up at your ex’s apartment when she is not home, then leave her a voicemail asking where she is.
5. Twelve months after your breakup: Text your ex, and proposition her for sex. She will most definitely be offended and angry but that’s ok! Just ask again! Explain that she is better than your pregnant girlfriend, because you’re a scumbag who can’t keep it in his pants.
These are five, surefire techniques to ensure you will spend a year staggering through life in a state of eternal self pity, unwilling to take responsibility for your own unhappiness.
This guy’s got the idea:
However, if you want to become the other kind of person, the kind who can accept a break up like a mature, rational, human being, please take the following steps:
1. Stop texting your ex. She has been trying to move on for a long time now. Let it happen. Stop making her more miserable than she has to be.
2. Stop reducing her to a sexual asset you once had, and cease to ask her for anymore sexual favors. She is NOT interested.
3. Focus on your new girlfriend. It is not her fault that you are too much of a jackass to get over someone before starting a new relationship.
4. Pull yourself together. ‘Nuff said.
5. Grow a pair and let it go. It’s been a year.
So there you have. Follow these steps and you will surely live a life of happiness and less regret.
Thank you for reading, supporting my rant, and allowing me the opportunity for some long due vindication.
The girl you want to have a watermelon seed spitting contest with
***Please note. Nothing in this blog was taken from real life or directed at one specific person. Facts and situations were completely fabricated for the sake of the topic, with the only exception being the entire entry.