Before we begin I would like to make it clear that anything that sounds slightly anecdotal probably is and I would like you to refrain from judging me. Thank you for your time.
The past has this funny way of catching up with us. (Cliché to the max, in fact I think that's the tag line to a super cheesy movie. Whatever, don't interrupt my flow).
Whether it's ex boyfriends, ex potential boyfriends, ex what in the hell even were we's. They'll do something, ANYTHING, as the last grain of sand in the hourglass that metaphorically represents the time you gave to them is going to drop. That's it. The hourglass is flipped over and you have a gazillion grains waiting to be drained again. And you go through the motions. We all know the motions right? (Not the menopause ones). In case you're unfamiliar with them because you're super woman, or just not emotionally unstable like me (please tell me I'm not alone) here they are -
Stage 1: Crying. Crying and despair. They were so magical, all these memories, look at them, LOOK AT HOW PERFECT THEY ARE. I'll never find another them.
Stage 2: Man hating. You turn into a more ruthless crazy Germaine Greer crazy feminist crazy that you actually debate lesbianism. A popular phrase heard by most young ladies going through stage 2: "I hate men, they're all bastards. I'm going to give up on men and just be a lesbian". Hands up if you have said that, or something similar to that. Yeah, thought so. NOTE - Stage 2 often crops up in every day life even when the motions aren't in play.
Stage 3: The vodka induced slut. Your first night out since Mr. Perfect has text you something nice then not replied to your drunk text/been tagged in a picture on Facebook with his arm around some random HOE/booty called at your most fragile then didn't return your calls ETC, delete where applicable. You're on the rebound, and more dangerously, you're on the vodkas. Cocky and confident because you haven't eaten for a couple of days because of the stress so you think you look skinnier than a Victoria's secret model, you're looking hot, there's no denying it. You notice the guys checking you out and you love it, you play up to it, few free drinks here, cheeky snog there. Until you black out. Then you wake up in a random bed and think "SHIT, who the fuck is this guy, and why did my friends let me go home with him*"
*They actually tried to pull you away from him but you were insistent.
Stage 4: And breathe. This is my favourite stage. You realise that YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE SUCH A MENTAL BASTARD, and that you're alright. You have your friends, you've deleted your heartbreak playlist, and even though from time to time a song that was on it will play, it won't make you cry. You normally know you're in Stage 4 when, while walking alone, you smile, and realise that genuinely, you are happy.
The point I'm trying to make is that, the past will always be just that, the past. It is only your actions in the present that can define what the past will be. If today, or tomorrow, or whenever, is interrupted by ex McDickhead, it's important to remember that that's behind you now, and however uncertain your future looks it is unavoidable. But you'll be alright. Promise.
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