Archive

danger

A broken heart sucks balls. It’s crap. If you asked me to choose between a broken heart and taking my chances with Hannibal, I’d order you to lock me up with the man and throw away the key. But what’s worse than the sheer agony of a broken heart, is having to bear the broken heart in public. If you’re at home, no one minds if you rot in your pyjamas all day, or work your way through every make of tissue, grading them on the efficiency when it comes to tear-wiping and the gentleness of nose-blowing. I don’t know how, but movies feature broken hearted men and women who look relatively decent and who can afford to brave the harsh light of day and not be accused of mimicking the living dead. I am not this fortunate. Not only do my bigger-than-average eyes go bloodshot, thus drawing attention to the leaky make-up streaming down my face (which I only put on in the first place, in an attempt to look somewhat normal), but I also cry. And not politely or delicately either. Oh no. Gone are the days of a ladylike sniffle. I blubber, often resulting in the term “ugly crying” to be used as a description. What follows is my list of the Top 5 worst places in which to have a broken heart.

1. On an airplane
This tops the charts as the ultimate horror setting in which to suffer from a broken heart. Not only are you shoved into the plane in a proximity to strangers than not even sardines in a can could even comprehend, but your sniffles and elephant-like nose blows announce to all on board that there’s need for a serious clean up in aisle 2.

2. The dinner table
Not only does one’s appetite diminish or expand when it comes to a broken heart, but in my friendship group, any dinner table event means one thing and one thing only: repeatedly singly me making an odd number beside an empty place setting at a table full of couples in soon-to-be-wedded bliss. Yikes.

3. On social networks
Let’s face it. It’s just added insult to injury when you end your relationship and several people ‘like’ the notification. But having to relive the loss in every photograph and wall post of the past, just kicks you when you’re down. Do me a favour ex-boyfriend, and stop existing. Delete your account and take all of the pain you’ve caused with you. Oh and running commentary, pipe down. Only asshole ‘like’ that a relationship has ended, for all of the world wide web to see.

4. At university/work
Oh, how sweet! You couldn’t have waited until I got home to rip my heart out! You just had to come and see me at university/work to get it done. In public. And in front of all of my friend/colleagues. Well, that was very kind of you. Why didn’t you just ‘tweet’ me? It’d have been far less degrading than sitting here trying not to fall to pieces as you walk away – and then having to go back to my desk and actually function.

5. Anywhere. At. All.
Well done. You have successfully turned me into a wreck. Love songs make me feel ill and if I see one more RomCom that leads me to believe that I’m the exception and not the rule, I may kill someone. By breaking my heart, you’ve stolen a piece of it that I can never get back. A piece of me that you will always hold until my dying day. So, let me give you some advice for your next endeavour into the world of love – advice I wish someone had given you before me. Giving up is for cowards. If you’re a coward, rather don’t try at all. No, we can’t be friends after you’ve murdered every trace of happiness we ever shared. Honesty is all I ever wanted, no lies or deceit.
And the next time you tell someone you’ll love them forever, just the way they are – mean it.

Advertisements

It’s come to my attention that my dating life, up until now, is being used as the example section of “how not to do it” in the conversations of my family and friends. I’ve become that girl. The girl that’s invited to tell the horror stories of her past relationships to make other women feel better. And I’m sitting here wondering when I let it get this bad? I mean, did my mother read me one too many fairy tales, instilling in me a deep desire to kiss a frog (or 100) and find a prince? Never disheartened, I’ve resolved to come up with a few guide lines for myself, and any other ladies, who can’t seem to take the psychotic glint in our potential partner’s eyes as reason enough to run.

1. If he uses his cell phone whilst you’re on a date – especially the first date – even if he apologises. Come on! He carries his phone around with him 24 hours a day and can’t take an hour or two off to meet your eye line and actually hold a conversation that isn’t punctuated with message alert tones? What, must you learn to mimic the sound his cell phone makes in order to come top of the charts? How about no. Next please.

2. If he uses any one of the following to describe himself: asshole, commitment phobe, serial monogamist, jerk, free spirit, lone wolf, etc. Come on ladies, I know this guy. I’ve been there. A man who’ll tell you that he’s one of these, but adds that “perhaps things will be different with you,” had said this line before. And guess what? It won’t be different. It’s never different. Take him at face value. He’s giving you a warning, so dodge the bullet honey. Let’s not run face first into this brick wall again expecting a different result.

3. If he’s flaky. Are you constantly waiting to hear from him so you can arrange to see him? And when you do make plans, does he cancel them last minute or just never get back to you because he was super busy? Well, maybe he’s busy, but I’ve yet to meet someone who can’t send a text that takes all of thirty seconds to type to ensure you don’t sit around feeling worthless. If you have time to pee for Heaven’s sake, then you have time to send a text! And ladies, this guy, the one for whom you’ll make excuses to yourself and your friends, he’s actually sort of magical. Want to know his most effective trick? The moment you stop making excuses for him; stop texting him; and stop waiting around for him, he will disappear from your life for good. Kinda neat, huh?

4. If he never compliments you. Now, I know what it’s like to wish a guy would like you. You’d be wiling to do anything – ANYTHING – and yet, you can never quite NOT get upset when he tells you how beautiful he thinks another woman is. She may be in a film, a magazine or walking passed you on the street. Either way, when you’re trying to be the best you can be, and that STILL isn’t deemed worthy of a compliment from this cheap and insensitive waste of time you’re seeing, I have one word for you: run. You’re incredible. You’re beautiful. You’re sensitive, and your capacity to love – as a woman – knows no bounds. So dammit lady, give yourself the compliments he won’t, and move on.

5. If he won’t hold your hand, give you a hug, or kiss you unless it’s the prelude to sexual intercourse. Enough said, it’s that simple.

Relationships are tricky as hell, and Lord knows I remain in square one when it comes to them. But if we’re the ones in control of our lives and those we let into them, I think we ought to resolve to be a little bit smarter about these decisions, don’t you? I’m done chasing, and I’m done giving everything for nothing in return. I’m going old school. Chivalry is not dead, and it’s the least I demand. I am woman, hear me roar. No more grey area, no more murky, no more “it’s better than nothing.” I do well by myself, and I will not be tamed. It’s never too late to not settle for anything less than you deserve.

Being a young and single woman in the world is quickly becoming a dangerous pastime. Not only are our numbers dwindling (more because of marriage than bear traps and poison), but the world is somehow leading us all to believe that if we’re single, there’s something very wrong with us. Well, I for one, know that there’s nothing wrong with me – nothing completely unbearable, at least. I mean, I know I am rather childish, and hyper active, and would rather go out all night partying than sit at home and cuddle. And I know I like to have my shoes touching their partners and cupboards closed before I fall asleep at night, and yes, the rubbing of my feet in bed irritates some, but really it’s because I’m comfortable!! Anyway, that’s all besides the point. For now, I shall focus on My Survival Plan.

This week I’ve been left to house sit whilst my folks are away, and let me tell you, it can be a daunting task for a young lady with no knight in shining armour to call on. But I have been thinking, and there are things I can do to up my survival chances. Firstly, I’ll go to bed really late every night. I mean super late. Like, no point going to bed because it’s so late late. This way, any ‘bad guys’ seeking to pounce on my unsuspectingly whilst I sleep, will be left waiting. Think of it as survival of the sleepiest, and thanks to my years of training as a party animal/Honours graduate/insomniac, those baddies will have quite the match on their hands!

Scary movies shall be my staple for the week. I reckon if I watch enough, I’ll a) be immune to fear, and b) know every single possible eventuality. I’ve already begun my training in this area and have gleamed a decidedly brilliant survival plan should my house ever be under attack from aliens/zombies/pre-pubescent possessed kids/all of the above. My grand plan? To sit in the corner of a room, with all of its lights on, with a very large knife. Sheer brilliance, I hear you say. I know. Thank you. If you think of it, you’ll only ever have to focus on what’s coming towards you, begin covered on 66% of the scope by the two walls between which you’ve wedged yourself. Were I to end up in my very own real life horror film, it shall be short lived and severely lacking in action. But I’ll end up alive, dammit!

One side effect to having watched so very many horror films, is that when it does come time (usually somewhere around 4 in the morning) to retire to my bedroom, the journey from the TV room to mine at the opposite side of the house and up a staircase consisting of exactly 21 stairs, well… It can be daunting. Especially in the dark. Making my way passed the doorways to other rooms, and up stairs to which there’s very little protection from the grabbing, evil hands of bad guys, my heart beat does tend to quicken. The solution to this, however, is simple – although Eskom may not be so impressed with me by the end of the week. Simply put, I shall put every single light in the house on. Ta-da! I know it may end up rather expensive in the end, but in the event that despite my other strategies a bad guy does come into the house, I’ll spot him long before he spots me, AND when I call the police from my parents bedroom (in the corner), I can direct them to “the house with all the lights on.”

Really, I can’t understand why all of this survival stuff is considered only for the “fittest.” I have it all worked out. Who needs a man? Not me. I have minimal sleep, a corner and light to protect me. And hell, if all else fails there’s always a tried and tested method that we’ve all resorted to since we were born… I’ll just grab my teddy and bury myself deep under the covers of my bed, with my eyes firmly shut. It’s a truth that’s acknowledge worldwide –  under the covers, nothing bad can get me.