The Stages of Beating Heartbreak Into Submission

Getting over heartbreak… it’s hard. First there’s the confrontation stage, then the empty stage, the crying stage, the vengeful stage, the rebound stage, the self-doubt stage and finally, you move on. Unfortunately, mine didn’t come in this order.

I had been in my first three year relationship (my first relationship, period, actually). Read this: three year relationship. Three years. That’s a long time to put up with somebody you haven’t married. So why did I put up with him? I don’t know. I still don’t know to this day.

Garrett Colbert was what my mother considered a “fine gentleman who truly knows what it means to be an upstanding citizen”. In modern terms, Garrett was Prince Charming in the flesh. Blonde with blue eyes, he was. He was gallant, polite, and he was far up in the corporate world. He was good to me. He took me to romantic places, he worried about me, and he kept my mother off my back. So what was it that he lacked, you ask? The ability to keep Garrett Jr. to himself.

After I found out about his little affair with his secretary (honestly, how cliché can you get?), I dumped him. Plain and simple.

Then began the stages.

After I dumped him, I skipped to the vengeful stage. You should see what remains of his old office. I think they’re using it as a storage room now. In a nutshell, I shred all of his important documents, used his desk lamp to knock a hole in the computer screen, splatter-painted one wall of his office, and ripped off the wallpaper on another wall. I completely cracked his desk in half, tossed a paper weight through his window (luckily, he has an office with a window facing another office building’s roof, so there was no harm done), spilled all the ink in his pens all over the door, stapled the wallpaper I had originally ripped off the walls back up on there haphazardly, and made holes in his computer chair with his letter opener. Needless to say, his office was unavailable for further use.

The authorities never really found out who had completely trashed the room, but I made sure that Garrett knew full and well who did it. He would never talk. He was an “upstanding citizen” of course, and he wouldn’t disclose any piece of his private life with the public.

After that, I skipped right on the self-doubt stage. I began thinking things like, “Was I not good enough for him?” and “Did I not put enough of myself into it?” Of course, that stage went by fast. I’ve never really dwelt on my insecurities because I thought them a waste of time.

Subsequently, I backtracked onto the rebound stage. I hooked up with Garrett’s “Tall, Dark, and Handsome” best friend Nicholas. Nicholas – or, as most call him, Cole – was very understanding with my situation. When he finally figured out that I was on my rebound stage, we actually came to a mutual agreement (yes, there is such a thing) that we would break it off for the better. That stage was the least messy, I think.

Afterward, I reached the crying stage. I cried so much that I was afraid I might’ve been dehydrated. At the law firm where I worked, I sometimes burst into tears during random hours of the day when I was reminded of Garrett. My office reminded me of Garrett because of what I had done to his office after I dumped him, which led to the reason why I dumped him, which led to the memories I had of us being together. One of the interns at the law firm felt pity for me and took it upon herself to come around with a box of tissues with her whenever I felt like imitating a fountain. I think I wasted at least six boxes of tissues in three days. What can I say? I was never one of those graceful criers. When I cried, it was all-over-the-place messy. When my intern finally got tired of my random bouts of sorrow, she slapped me across the face, shook me like a doll and told me to “kindly shut the hell up”. That woke me up and ended the crying stage. Of course, I couldn’t let my intern get away with telling me to shut up, let alone slapping me. I sweetly gave her the piles of paperwork that I had conveniently forgotten to organize while I was going through this stage.

Following the crying stage, there was the confrontation stage. I had marched right up to his perfect little Victorian home and proceeded on yelling at him on his front lawn. I told him to do plenty of things, including something that I’m pretty sure is physically impossible, but yet again, I wouldn’t know since I didn’t have the part of the anatomy that usually goes with the action. I slapped him, leaving a red handprint, tossed my stiletto at his head, and trampled his flowers. Then, I began asking him why. “Why did you sleep with her?” “Why didn’t you tell me what was wrong?” Let’s not exclude the how. “How long has this been going on?” “How could you do this to me?!” When he failed to answer any of the questions to my satisfaction, I silenced myself. Then, I retrieved my shoe, gathered my dignity, and slipped right back into my car with my head raised.

Then, I came to the empty stage. I went through the motions of daily life, completely disregarding the whole world during the night as I indulged in mindless television. Why gee, I never knew that babies could come out in so many different ways! I even watched that fit channel. Of course, in my mind, watching them do their aerobics was enough of an exercise. Why bother getting up to imitate them? I gained a few pounds in this stage because of the numerous buckets of ice cream I went through. After all, heart-rending chick flicks are served best with a bucket full of chocolate ice cream and your biggest spoon imaginable.

And finally, finally, I reached the acceptance stage. I accepted that Garrett and I were through. He just wasn’t committed enough to put up with me the same way I put up with him. Obviously, our relationship wouldn’t have worked in the long run. It was all for the best. He may have been a good first love, but sometimes, that love is just not enough.

Eventually, I pursued a relationship with Cole once more. When I appeared at his apartment, he had this all-knowing smirk on his face, as if he was expecting me to be there. When I told him I’m finally over Garrett, he just drawled in a lazy tone, “Well, finally.”

I agree with him.

Finally.

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Author’s Note: This story isn’t autobiographical. I just hit inspiration when I was watching “My Best Friend’s Wedding” on TBS. I know it’s short. I didn’t want to drag it out longer than it was meant to be because it would just ruin the whole effect. Hoped you enjoyed it!