When you’re amidst a heartbreak, every day is different. One day you’ll wake up and want to embrace your singlehood, put on a cute outfit, explore your new city and find some man bunned hipster at a brewery to flirt with. Other days, you discover the “deleted voicemail” section of your inbox and hear your ex’s voice for the first time in months (saying gut wrenching things like, “Hey baby, there’s an accident on 68 so please be careful, I picked up your dry cleaning and it’s hanging in the closet, call me later I love you!”, *insert gun to face emoji here*), and decide that listening to BB King for hours and pouring yourself a whiskey at 2:30pm while it’s dumping rain and you’re still in pajamas (HIS over sized tee and sweat pants, seriously, where is the gun to face emoji) is a good idea. Today, unfortunately, is the latter.
Going through an intense breakup and getting over a broken heart is like mourning a death. And what’s worse, is that they haven’t actually left the earth, they’re around and alive. And not only are they around and alive, but they’re flourishing, they’re in love with someone new, and you’re sitting on your ass drinking whiskey at 2:30 on a rainy afternoon in the strange city you ran away to, feeling like it just happened and seriously questioning how, if even possible, to go on.
Holiday season is upon us like a cheap slut, and just because you feel like your whole world has ended, the other part of the world, the real, rest of the world has not. Life goes on for everyone else and holidays will happen this year, despite my mental protests. Inevitable holiday season engagements and pregnancy announcements will arise (OH the horror), and I’m starting the psychological prep now, just in case one of those announcements happens to be from him.
Let’s just bypass the whole holiday season. I can’t afford it, literally and figuratively. Santa, unless you’ve got a hot, emotionally stable, financially secure, non asshole adult man with good arms for me, just fuck off and don't bother this year.
Another side affect of a gut wrenching breakup and new found singlehood in a foreign state without any “old reliables” to depend on for random, I-need-to-relieve-some-aggression-and-make-sure-my-vagina-still-works sex, is the incessant horniness and extreme sexual frustration.
Fucked up, really-- you’re in a relationship for almost three years and have access to the sex at all times, and then towards the end you don’t want it anymore because everything’s gone to shit, then it ends, and you’re regretting all the access to sure-thing orgasms you had for so long and totally took for granted. Ah yes, a classic case scenario of never truly realizing what we have until it’s long gone and fucking someone else.
Of course, self completion is a thing, but does it really relieve anything? Lately, masturbation just makes me angrier because of the painful realization that there isn’t a male body on top of me, as much as I try to fantasize it. My new vibrator broke 2/3 of the way through the other night. $100 of my unemployed dollars and one less orgasm I’m not having, RIGHT down the drain. Talk about blue balls. Oh the pain.
So what have we learned today? Stock up your liquor cabinet, re-up your Valium prescription and for gods sake make sure your new sex toy has a warranty. It’s going to be a rough, lonely, sexless holiday season.
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