At day 9 of breakup I should be knee deep in the Kübler-Ross model somewhere between anger, depression and eating my feelings. Instead I find myself with an absence of any traumatic symptoms whatsoever. This is more than likely due to one of two reasons:
A recently adopted nightly regime of a bottle of wine, sleeping pills and a bath before bed (affectionately dubbed the “Virginia Woolf” model)
I’ve done exactly what it says in Women Who Love Men Too Much and completely detached from any emotion on the ovarian spectrum.
Stage 1: Denial – In amongst this emotional fuckwittage I’ve tried to spend the days regaining some semblance of normality; starting with a trip to mothers house where I guilt tripped her into buying me some fancy new clothes. Proof that I’m totally fine.
* You’ll never get a boyfriend if you look like you’ve wandered out of Auschwitz *
Stage 2: Anger – My next act as a singleton other than finding an appropriate, private and offline outlet for my thoughts and feelings was to rectify the sad reality of sleeping alone. So, I decided to download The Hunger Games audiobook. As it turns out listening to violent slaughter before bed was strangely comforting.
Stage 3: Bargaining – My third port of call was a show of independence in the form of attending the cinema by myself. I’m a grown up. Look how well I’m doing! Do you think we can be friends?!…On the plus side I didn’t have to find anyone to fit in with my schedule and I could eat fistfuls of popcorn without fear of retribution.
*Remember, chew like you have a secret*
As a side note, movies are a horrible first date option for the following reasons:
- You have very little opportunity to talk and get to know the other party.
- You have to broach the awkward who pays for who dilemma immediately.
- There is an overwhelming pressure to kiss and subsequently miss any important plot details resulting in you having to pay to see the film again.
- You decide to try and impress them with your art-house leanings and take them to see Melancholia and it ends up that they are a manic depressive and have to leave the cinema in a wave of hysterical crying and you have to comfort them when all you really want to do was to finish the diet coke and half a box of maltesers that you left behind.
Stage 4: Depression – It had been a pretty hard week so I figured it was time to call an emergency summit with urban family. As usual things got out of hand and I ended up at Stonewall where I spent the whole evening hitting on a guy who turned out to be straight. In hindsight the football jersey, sandshoes and the fact he hooked up with a woman right in front of me should have been a dead giveaway. I’m just no good at this.
* I despise guessing games *
Stage 5: Acceptance – This one might take a bit more time to get my head around what with Valentines Day around the corner and my overwhelming desire to fill peoples flowers with bees and cyanide. I’ll be fine. Eventually.
* Don’t worry, honey. Everything’s fine. We’re going to have a wonderful party. We’ve made Daddy such a nice cake. *
 The Ovarian Emotional Spectrum ranges from a flagrant desire to procreate to an irrational hatred of all things that aren’t sweet, sweet nourishing chocolate.
* LIAR! Throws chocolates at screen *