The Break-Up Commandments for the Tossed Aside: Genesis

At the beginning of the year I got dumped. It sucked. During the healing process, I wrote this list of Break-Up Commandments and I didn't had the guts to publish it until now. I locked it away in my vault, but tonight I read it again for the first time in months. And, I laughed my ass off.

I decided to post it after all.

I made a few minor modifications. (Mostly I just went through it and deleted all the parts where I went off on bitter and angry tangents attacking my ex). I still think what survives underneath all my neurotic bullshit is a fairly accurate break-up experience.

I've decided to share my tale of rejection for one main reason: That maybe something good can come of my misfortune. I’d like to think I can help other discarded saps like myself. I've been there and I survived. If nothing else you guys can have a few laughs at my expense. So here they are ...

The Break-Up Commandments for the Tossed Aside:

Genesis: Commandments 1-3


I’m still not entirely sure how it all went down. Suffice it to say, I got dumped. Actually, no. That will not suffice. It’s more like I was unceremoniously dismissed with little cause and no closure a mere three weeks before I was to move in with whom I thought was a man that loved me.

Ouch.

And, as I have told myself on multiple occasions in those first few days: “This really happened.”

A few hours after my world crashed around me I decided I needed a plan of recovery. Sitting in the dim light of my girlfriend’s kitchen and clutching a cocktail like a fat kid would a Snicker’s bar, I discovered Break-Up Commandment number one:

THOU MUST HAVE EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD FRIENDS.

The post-mortem bitch session is an instrumental first step towards recovery. It allows you to vent your frustrations and at the same time receive the support you need to overcome the rejection you are feeling.

Thank the Lord I have friends who immediately offered me a stiff drink and even a place to live.

In. That. Exact. Order.

My friends know my priorities! Love you guys!

So drinks in hand and surrounded by the love of my friends who have been with me through everything for over a decade, we berated the bastard up one side and down the other …

We discussed his complete inability to give a real reason for our demise—When pressed, he finally said I did not eat healthy enough. Ha! What the crap was the eighty dollars of organic fruits, veggies etc. that I bought from Whole Foods? I guess he thought I bought that for kitchen decorations. God forbid I crave junk food every now and then. Just warning you ladies … Bugles and Easy Cheese are a capital offense!

I can assure you, dear readers; this was not guy code for I am too fat. I am 5 foot 4 and skinny as a rail. I weigh 120 pounds, so there is no way his comment could be misconstrued as a politically correct attempt to convey the fact that he found me huge and unattractive.

The next morning I realized it didn’t matter what the real reason was. The outcome was still the same and I would not have been satisfied with any reason he could have possibly offered. I loved him and he broke my heart. No amount of logic was going to penetrate my stubborn skull at that juncture. I was in too much pain to accept even the most deeply valid criticisms of my character.

I am flawed. We all are. I loved him despite his flaws and I just wanted the same in return. I didn’t get it and my ego was much like last night’s beer sitting on the nightstand: Flat and half-empty.

Hence my discovery of Break-Up Commandment number two:

THOU MUST BUY AN EXCEPTIONALLY HOT BREAKUP OUTFIT.

Sometimes the universe conspires to help us through difficult times. At least that’s what I decided given the circumstances. I, miss procrastinator extraordinaire, had already filed and received my tax returns. I had not spent much of it yet (also uncharacteristic of me) so I was in the perfect financial position to do some serious retail therapy. Air kisses to the Karma Gods for this one!

I hit the mall and bought the perfect booty jeans, kitten heels and a top that made my skinny lil frame look hour glass. I also treated myself to my favorite perfume (Gap Grass. Love that stuff!) and even the jewelry to tie it all together.

Forgive me here. I am new to the shoe fetish. But let me tell you these bubblegum-pink, 6-inch, matte-finish masterpieces are hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night.

I didn't care that I was riding my bike to the party! I thought I could make it work. Oh and make it work I most certainly did!

Never underestimate the power of Break-Up Commandment number three:

THOU MUST SECURE A GOOD GRUDGE MAKE-OUT.

After having spent the previous 24 hours feeling dejected, unloved and unwanted (and shamelessly checking my phone every 3 minutes) I arrived to the party wearing the outfit I coordinated for a very specific purpose. I needed some male admiration. My ego may have been in tatters, but I looked as beautiful as I could possibly look and to be assured of that fact I needed to earn a few complements.

I danced (while trying to ignore that almost every song we played I had also danced with him). I drank and I laughed with my friends. As the night went on I eased into myself. I made all the painful declarations of “he dumped me,” in response to my friend’s inquiries of where the ex was. News spread fast and soon I didn’t have to explain myself any further.

Sometime later in the party I realized with delight that I was still standing. This horrible thing happened, but I was still on my feet (in ridiculously hot heels no less). I laughed and patted myself on the back. I managed to flirt and smile and get the attention that boosted my ego back to something tolerable.

Someone came up to me and told me that my ex was crazy. That I was beautiful, and funny and smart and the entire package. I didn’t care if he was using it as a ploy to win my favor. He was telling me exactly what I wanted to hear. He kissed my forehead and gave me a giant hug. For a moment my icy heart warmed and I felt like I could breathe. At the same time I mentally applauded the ornery devil for being so shameless and smooth. I felt like we were co-conspirators.

I danced and drank and laughed some more. I told myself that even though I was hurting, I was surrounded by friends who cared about me and I still managed to have a good time. I told myself I would survive it. The thought made me feel empowered. Well, it might have been the thought coupled with several beers, but I digress.

Later on I was about to make my third foray into the ladies room when my co-conspirator greeted me in the hallway. We shared a lusty look at one another and without a word we ducked into the bathroom. We were on each other so fast I’m still not even sure the door was locked, but I didn’t care.

His lips were on mine and he was clutching back of my hair with one hand as he ran the other along my ribcage, along the small of back and pulled me towards him. His lips met mine and my stomach fluttered with the fear and excitement of doing something so reckless.

After some frenzied kissing we righted ourselves smiling and panting at each other like a pair of wolves on the hunt. He gave me a sweet small peck on the lips and we snuck back to the party.

My heart was pounding. I knew that I was being ridiculous and acting on impulse but I didn't care enough to stop myself. Sometimes you have to be ridiculous to survive.

My cheeks were flushed and my lips tingled from the pressure of his kiss. We went on to join the talk and dance as if nothing happened. But we shared a look from across the room. I liked having that secret. It was fun and exciting and dangerous.

The night wore on and my girlfriend and I went back to her house. When the door shut behind us turning the roar of drunken talk and laughter into a festive murmur, I was sad to leave the noise of the party behind. It had so wonderfully drowned out the noise in my own head.

But, I was thankful for that brief escape from the solitude. For those fun and also incredibly HOT moments I was able to forget about the man that hurt me and laugh a little. I was also glad I had the chance to feel like I was something to be desired instead of discarded.

I went to bed knowing I could survive this and be happy again. The perfect ending to my first full weekend in break-up hell.


Stay tuned for  ...

Back to the Grind: Commandments 4 & 5