Sunday, 29 May 2016
Heartbreak for Dummies...
You will need: unlimited alcohol, a dash of self loathing, some candles, a temporary lack of self respect, the album 21 by Adele, or similar, a darkened room and an empty deodorant bottle. Voodoo doll optional.
1. Get drunk. Go on, you know you want to. I find self medicating in this way to be an entirely appropriate response to what's happened. Your life plan has gone out of the window, you didn't see it coming, you're heartbroken in a way that is only reserved for 80's power ballads and all you want to do is hide in the wardrobe. That's okay. Do it. Just make sure you arm yourself with a litre of lukewarm Blue Nun and get pleasantly pickled. Nothing wrong with that. It'll help you sleep anyway. Win-win, in other words.
2. Make a really depressing music play list. Let's face it: you're miserable and it's not going anywhere for a while. You may as well revel in it. Go on, stick on the Adele album, pick up that empty deodorant bottle and wail along to Someone Like You. It's amazing just how talented you really are when no one is around to hear you, isn't it? You can even pretend you're at The Brits while doing so. I mean, she got a standing ovation. Own it.
3. Plug the gap. And no, I'm not being pervy. You've probably got a lot of time on your hands now that you're on your todd. Try and keep busy. For example, you could write a book called the Heartbreak Diet. It's simple: you have a double vodka for breakfast, a treble brandy for lunch and then half a bottle of gin for your dinner. You probably won't lose any weight, but who cares? You certainly won't after tucking that lot away.
4. Don't stalk them on the internet. As tempting as it is, this should be avoided at ALL COSTS. And even though I am advising you not to, you probably will anyway, if you haven't already. Don't say I didn't warn you. Trust me when I say that the internet really is the Devil's window and looking at what your ex is up to is slightly akin to looking up a simple medical concern via our friends at Google. What appeared to be an oddly located pimple is now a sure sign of terminal illness. Don't put yourself through it. Certainly don't go swooping on dating sites to see if your ex has signed up and then listed his turn-offs as the ENTIRE contents of your personality.
5. Get drunk. Yes, again. You've stalked them on the internet and rather than them being dead, as you'd secretly hoped, it turns out that they're tickety-fucking-boo. Unlike you. Therefore you'll need a little drink, won't you? Crack open a cold one, love. Don't forget to swig along to Adele. I tell you, it's like I wrote 21 myself. I think I should get a cut of the royalties.
6. Go to the gym. Not because exercise is scientifically proven to reduce stress, but because there are lots of pretty people there who are quite lovely to look at. Top tip: avoid mirrors. You're probably not one of them.
7. Get drunk again. You're three stones overweight and the pretty gym bunnies, whilst nice to slobber over, have made you feel fat. Which you are. You may as well have a Twix with a vodka chaser. It's not like it's going to make much difference.
8. Go out with all your friends. What do you mean they're all now married / partnered / settled / firing out kids? Oh dear. In that case, you might want to consider giving lesbianism a whirl, even if you do have a penis. Anyone want to rub boobs? No? Suit yourself.
9. Get drunk. I'm telling you, it really does help. Hic. And while you're in the throws of pissed-dom, write a poem that is so bad and self pitying that you'll be ashamed of yourself the next day. And possibly the day after.
10. Give it time. Apparently, it'll get better. You might also want to apply for a liver transplant too. Just a thought.
(This originally appeared in this ebook. If you've got a quid to spare and you're not a tight bastard, you might want to give it a whirl! :-))