I’ve become very aware, over the last week, that breakups, however amicable, are always a double edged sword.
On the one hand there’s a sense of relief; when you know deep down someone is toxic for you the breakup is like a purge – like someone has drawn poison out of your body. Not a particularly pleasant experience by anyone’s standards, but better for you in the long run.
On the other hand you suddenly find yourself with a huge amount of extra time to fill. And fill it you must for risk of starting to miss them, or worse wondering if breaking up was the right decision.
Naturally, as a sort of semi-adult who is pretty much winging everything and hoping for the best, I haven’t sorted out the internet or TV for my new house yet. That combined with the fact that I’m absolutely on the bones of my arse money wise, what with it having just been Christmas, having just bought a house and having just started a new job, has meant that I’ve been left with even more time to kill than usual.
So I’ve been spending my evenings drinking and mulling over life.
I rang the blonde one; my guru in times like this.
“Do you know what scares me about being single”
“The impending fear of dying alone?”
“Well… yes. But even more so than that; what if I meet someone, fall in love with them and then a year later I find out he’s one of those pricks who clap when the plane lands? Or worse, what if – in three years’ time when beards aren’t cool anymore – he shaves his off and looks like something out of the Goonies.”
“Ah yes. Cunts and weak chins. Both very real concerns. That Dutch filmmaker I was shagging has a terribly weak chin under a sexy beard. Just wait, as soon as beards go out of fashion the divorce rate will sky rocket.”
“Jesus. Maybe I should just stay single.”
“I would. Incidentally, the gay lads down my hall are throwing a Bowie-themed fancy dress party tonight if you want you come. It’s basically just going to be what the inside of your brain looks like anyway.”
“Glitter and vomit?”
“Glitter and vomit.”
Until next time… x