Category Archives: breaking up

love and loss and rocks

Sometimes in life a person finds themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place. And the only way to get around that rock is to blow it up with dynamite, or breakup with it. The rock, most likely, will not enjoy being blown up or dumped and thus will hold the clothes and books you left at its house hostage (including a Bukowski book that you really, really love and want back). The rock will also call you a bunch of names and drag your good name through the mud because its ego was wounded, and you, in return, will question your choice to put an end to things and cry yourself to sleep three nights in a row. You will also accidentally drink too much red wine and dance with a nice but very unattractive boy who’ll call you the next day, and then you will feel worse.
        After a much needed dinner and discussion about the whole incident with your best guy friend, you come to the realization that it was in your best interest to dump the rock. Even though you hurt it, the relationship between the two of you wasn’t really going anywhere. Your best guy friend told you to forgive the rock for its harsh criticisms of you, and you sighed deeply, looked down at your lap, and remembered a time when you had your heart broken and lashed out. And thus you allowed your thoughts to become gentle and forgave.
        There are moments in our lives when the timing is totally and completely and unforgivably off. You meet a person who could potentially be your Siamese soul-twin, and he’s ready to settle down and start a family and you, on the other hand, are planning on leaving the country in a year. You work a 9-5 office job and he works a 7pm-3am bartending job and you never, ever see each other. But you dig in your heels and you try. You try because you really like this guy and he has promised you the world and he cooks for you and tells you that you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and your heart mourns his absence.
        Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes two people can be so right for each other but outside factors play into the demise of their relationship. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just that life got in the way. Don’t feel guilty. There is no need for guilt. Just know that you tried, and that sometimes, it is better to have loved and lost than to wake up to that particular person for the rest of your life.


I Hate Dating

untitledSo, for the first time in quite a few years, I am single. And whether I like it or not, it’s probably going to stay that way for quite awhile.

Last week I made the desperate and pitiful attempt to seek out a rebound. I set my sights very, very low. Low as in he is thirty, still lives with his parents, speaks exactly like Karl Childers character from the movie Sling Blade, and walks like a male pigeon. We had nothing in common except a mutal friend, an unhealthy obsession with zombies, and sore calf muscles.

So, when Mr. You-Are-Suppose-To-Be-My-Rebound-Damnit never called me back and started expressing interest in the mutal friend, my ego deflated like a popped balloon. I then tried to fling myself face first into activity-after-activity with friends, but sometimes 20-somethings are too self-involved to care about a friend in need and thus, I ended up alone in bed with my dog browsing through a self-help book that my mother loaned me.

Anyhow, my question is this: How does one get over a guy quick and efficiently? I’ve been going out almost every day of the week. I got a new haircut, rearranged my apartment, learned how to cook, tried out (and made) the Philly Roller Girl’s Fresh Meat team, but still, after two weeks of trying to keep busy, my heart still hurts. A piece of furniture or a song will remind me of him and immediately, I’ll feel my legs buckle and the water-works turn on. It happened in Target the other day which was really embarrassing.

I think my biggest fear is the loneliness that faces me everytime I enter my apartment. It is too big and too empty. I also don’t want my ex to be thriving without me. It’s hard to imagine him on the other side of the city living a Stephanie-less life and being happy. I understand that the best kind of revenge is to flourish in the wake of the other person. And I am trying to do just that. But I’ve begun smoking again and patrolling Craigslist daily for a cute, available boy.

I need to realize that I am worthy. I am a knock-out. I can stand on my own two feet. I need to get that single-girl swagger. I am a 25 year old, gorgeous, educated, successful, lovable, funny, newly-single woman and I will not settle. I can do this!

So, here is my pact with myself. I will not date for three months. I will not seek self-worth from outside sources. I will learn to cook. I will concentrate on my friends, on roller derby, on my career, on trying to get into graduate school, and on my writing. I will not be needy. I will not be the pursuer. 

And yanno what? I can do this! I will do this. I will let go, grow up, and move on. I will be okay.

Philadelphia is a Ghost Town without You

Do you know that feeling when nothing seems to makes sense anymore? Where your life changes right before your eyes and falls, like sand, through your clenched fingers? It’s like somebody has your heart in a headlock and you cannot breathe. 

And you cannot believe that this all just happened. You cannot believe that he, the man that has been there for your regardless, that had told you he wanted to marry you, just dumped you. 

Picture it. It’s raining and you two just had dinner. You’re standing on the corner of 3rd and Market in front of the restaurant. He looks at you with his head cocked and his lips pursed. He is right on the cusp of shattering something and you know it, you just know. You turn your back on him to leave, trying desperately to keep what’s left of your dignity intact, but your stupid heels and the rain keep you from making a clean getaway. 

There are so many unanswered questions. Why would he do this? Am I not good enough? What more could I have done? 

You call your mother and your friends. They console you, telling you that you are perfect and smart and lovable and beautiful. You can get through this. You are a strong woman, they say. He is not worthy of you. Come on, let’s go out dancing…                       

You throw yourself into what’s left of your own life to forget about him. You work, you hang out with friends, you write, you go to the gym. But like a phantom limb, he is still there. You can still feel his presence in the apartment sometimes. Nights are the hardest, You have only the dog to hold onto. 

And then the anger comes. It comes in enormous waves and you allow it to wash over you, relieved that there is no more room for the sadness. The anger is always on tap, is always attainable. 

I am on day three. I have begged, groveled, called and texted. I do not want him back, per say. I want the good times back. I want what we once were back. I have yet to realize that you cannot fix what is already broken. You cannot control other people’s actions. You just have to gather yourself  together, and, as Fitzgerald put it, “…beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”