Breaking up is like waking up after a nightful of hard drinking. "What was it again that hit me?", "Where am I exactly?", "How long have I been out?", "Can I stay in bed and die today?? Pretty please?"
No worries, it's only natural:
You got overexcited - looked a tad too deep into the glass (glass = random guy who happened to be right there at the wrong moment, looking exactly like the goddamn solution to your problems - so you started a relationship) and lost yourself in it. No need to be bitter about it. Sh*t happens. Wanna know how exactly? Well, here it is:
At the beginning of the evening you 're feeling quite reserved: "this time I have to be more careful than the last time, I won't have more than a beer or two". You ask all of your friends to remind you that this time you are not drinking no matter what.
Then you have your one or two beers (conveniently pretending not to hear your friends' subtle hints that you *might* be sipping them a bit too fast) and realize you start feeling quite comfortable. It's getting warm and fuzzy... things like "Did someone turn on the heating?" or "We’re actually having quite a nice time..." come out of your mouth…
(An hour later) “Oh well, a tiny tequila shot never ACTUALLY harmed anyone, did it?“: So you let yourself indulge - many times over. You like this feeling of slight dizziness: you are where you should be. It feels like home. Your friends are desperately trying to get through to what's left of your sobriety - but no use. You are where you should be... (rrrrrighto - we'll get back to that later...)
(Four hours later) "This stuff is reaaally gooood": The more you drink, the happier you get. Or at least that's what your dying brain cells are telling you. Your friends have given up trying to talk you to your senses and are long gone home. There you are, laughing for no reason, having forgotten what it was you were doing here in the first place, just dancing away your troubles. Intoxication... Little do you realize that you’ve sprained an ankle on your way to the ladies' (or was it the men's room? there was a suspiciously hairy guy taking a piss in there...), lost an earring (yep, there goes mama's birthday present...), told some stranger you love them (remember that guy with the bandana and the very dirty beard? uh-huh. him. oh, and the other guy, in the men's room…so make that two strangers.), and... well, done many things you will be bitterly regretting in the morning (but it isn’t morning yet, is it?).
Booze (or was it… what’s the word… “love”?) is a great anesthetic – and so time passes, while you smilingly collect cuts and bruises, nonsense wisdom and meaningless notes-to-self, thinking this *must* be the best time of your life.
(The morning after) To avoid further embarrassment (you don't want to hear the details about how you spent the rest of last night –or was it years?), I’ll just fast forward to the waking up part. Alone, hurting, with a feeling of emptiness cutting through your chest, wondering why you did that to yourself. Well, honestly dear, ‘cause we are all prone to thinking that this time is different! No matter how hard you try, how careful you promise yourself you will be, how long you stay away from bad habits like being romantic-optimistic-(take your pick), there is always a fresh tequila shot waiting for you ‘round the corner, ready to trick you into thinking “this is it”. So you spend the morning in bed, fighting off a feeling of nausea and a bad headache, trying to reach for the phone or at least for some painkillers (sorry to break it to you: you used them all up during the last break-up… *cough* …hangover). You finally get to the phone, and, a few moments later, the rescue squad arrives with a handful of painkillers and a truckload of hugs (if you‘re lucky, there are even no I-told-you-so’s…). And after you cry your eyes out and analyze all ifs and what-ifs, you fall asleep in their embrace, thinking that this hole in your head, and, most importantly, your chest, will never heal.
(The morning after that – figuratively speaking, don’t fool yourself..) Well, surprise, surprise! It’s a new day! The headache is gone, your sprained ankle is almost ready to try some new steps and your hurt little self (or what’s left of it) is starting to stretch arms and legs. “Is this the sun shining outside?” –yes, it is, and it’s not just a new day, it’s a whole new world. So get out of bed, put on some music (not just any music... does "La la la la la-la-la-la" ring a bell? yeah: The Passenger...) and say hello to your new life. You’re sober, fresh and ready for new adventures. But, please, this time, try ice-skating instead. You‘ll still hurt that ankle, but it will spare you the rest… oh, and don’t forget to thank your personal rescue squad. They so deserve it – being there after each and every time you decide to get drunk, putting up with who you really are, always keeping a smile in store for you.
One last thing: Don’t fool yourself. You will get to drink again. No doubt. Just don’t rush into it, it doesn’t have to be today, not even tomorrow. There’s some repairing to do from the last time (at some point, this ankle will need a cast). Take your time; there are so many things to do out there, just as fun, just as intoxicating, but nowhere near that dangerous… Put on an “under construction” sign and try not to smile at the surprised glances when it comes off ;)
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(Disclaimer 1: Any similarity to actual events or characters is purely coincidental ;) )
(Disclaimer 2: If you are currently in a relationship, don't let any of this get to you. It's just non-sense, after all ;) )
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