Single Girls Should Carry Ninja Stars
Things just aren't working out. I meant to say something sooner, but I've been
seeing someone else. It's not you, it's me. We can still be friends. You know, the kind
of friends that don't see each other, talk on the phone, or exchange emails. I knew
Going through a bad break up is a little like vomiting. In my case it includes
vomiting. It's always a little scary, you know you aren't going to feel better until it's
completely over, and the idea of eating anything ever again is utterly repugnant.
But just like throwing up, breaking up has its quick fixes and comforters.
Consider the following methods of post break up survival to be the wet washcloth and
ginger ale for your tiny, bludgeoned heart.
The most instant of all instant gratifiers is the ice cream coma. This goes way
beyond the headache and into the promised land. After a particularly potent break up, a
friend of mine that had been out of town called. All I told her was that things had gone
very badly since she'd left. Two hours later she was walking through my door with six
pints of Ben & Jerry's.
Within seconds all six pints sat open on the kitchen table and I sobbed my way
through the New York Super Fudge Chunk. If only my relationships with other boys
lasted as long as Ben and Jerry's relationship with my thighs. In all other respects they
are both the quintessential rebound boyfriend.
If you're diabetic I suggest you take on the more pancreas-friendly '80s fantasy
film diet. God bless this decade. When my heart resembles all that's left of Fantasia I
find solace in The Neverending Story, Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal, Ladyhawke, and
sometimes even Legend. These movies make absolutely no sense, to the point that
they resonate deeply.
The only drawback is they promote magical thinking. Like maybe if you believe
enough the phone will finally ring, you'll get back together, and then you'll turn into a
unicorn. Or David Bowie. In tights.
By this point I can guarantee that you'll look like crap. Puffy, chocolate stained
face, unwashed hair, and your pajamas have started sticking to the upholstery. But
that's okay! You don't need to get up, you need to stay on the couch and watch
America's Next Top Model.
Why, you ask, would I, heartbroken and ugly, want to watch a bunch of six foot
anorexic beauties compete for a spot in a completely shallow and soulless industry?
Because it's AWESOME.
Instinctually, I would assume that watching a bunch of exclusively attractive
women would make me feel bad about myself. The reality couldn't be further from the
truth. This show makes me feel like a scientist. An incredibly smart and sexy scientist.
The artistic merits of the show aside, the lack of depth is both intriguing and
addictive. The girls learn important life skills such as developing a signature walk,
knowing your angles, and how to mix the perfect amount of egotism with self loathing.
I could not ask for a better nemesis than the head judge, Tyra Banks. She uses
the same deathly serious affectation during each and every single elimination round,
and gives constructive criticisms that often end up amounting to "be more like me."
Always trying to "keep it real," Tyra is instantly faker than former judge Janice
To her credit, my friends and I have adopted her advice to "model through it"
when faced with life's challenges such as uncomfortable photo shoots, acne, heartache,
and the avian flu. In the words of my roommate Emily, we're just steps away from
becoming America's Next Top Awesome. Thank you, Ms. Banks.
There are many other art forms outside of film and fashion that can assist in
healing a broken heart. My personal favorite is gangsta rap. Don't just listen to it; live it.
Nothing makes me feel better than tying on a gold bikini, dousing myself in cheap
champagne, and busting a cap with my gat. You may think I'm joking, but seriously,
there are few things more cathartic than writing down and rapping the series of horribly
violent and exploitative things you would like to do, but won't.
It's not so different from the common advice to write your ex-amor a letter of all
your feelings, both true and exaggerated, but then never sending it. It helps you work
out exactly how you feel and why. In a few years it will be a comfort to read. You can
feel justified in your sincerity, and learn from your mistakes. It also helps prevent the
likelihood of history rewriting itself.
Take the letter a step further and design the perfect mix cd of all the songs that
tell it like it is. I have a girlfriend that made such a cd after an ex-fiance did something
terrible to her. She hasn't spoken to him since, but she carries the cd everywhere she
goes, concealed in her sketchbook like a ninja star.
She doesn't feel the need to send it to him, but if by chance they cross in the
street and he tries to talk to her, she won't have to say a word. She already has the
perfect response in the form of music. Just having it there makes her feel better. The
anxiety is gone.
Unfortunately there isn't any one trick to cure a broken heart, and it usually
comes down to making yourself wake up each day and doing your best. People may
console you with the idea that everything happens for a reason, but that's crap. While
some things may be guided by a divine or karmic source, most things happen because
people make choices. Sometimes those choices are bad, and everyone else has to
deal with the consequences. I believe God and the cosmos just try to make up for all
those bad choices by finding the next opportunity to make things aright.
We can always hope that things we lose will find us again, but should they
remain lost to us always, we should still strive to be better today than we were
yesterday. Heal yourself by healing others and the world you live in. Some things
should happen for a reason, so go out and do them for a reason. Perhaps that reason
could be peace on earth, goodwill toward men. Even ex-boyfriends. If that doesn't
work, go grab your gat and roll, ninja.