Let’s just continue on with the subject of breaking up on Backpage site so we can get it out of the way, shall we? Although I don’t know why I’m asking you since you don’t have much of a say in the matter.
There’s nothing sadder a person who’s just been broken up with. The dumped are always down in the dumps in a big way. That ‘breaking up is hard to do’ is a total understatement. I think it’s one of THE hardest things to do. It’s comparable having someone really close to you die. You never see that person afterwards, or if you do stay in contact, you still never see him in the same way again. Maybe the person you thought he was never existed, or maybe he changed, but the outcome remains the same. Finito. Kaput. It’s over. And once again, very little say in the matter from you.
You become an emotional rollercoaster and go through the 5 stages of grief. You deny what’s happening while keeping busy playing the fool. You get angry and positively livid with the mere thought of him traipsing happily through life while you live out the rest of your days as a basket case. Then you bargain with him as if bartering will make him change his mind. You then get depressed, lose 15 lbs in two weeks, and walk around with red puffy eyes telling your story to anyone who’ll listen, including poor guys at bars who really didn’t sign up for all that. And then finally, you get to accepting things as they are.
Acceptance doesn’t always come of its own accord though. I usually help it along by writing “The Top Ten Reasons why So-and-So is a F*cking A**hole and I will so diss him the next time he calls.” In this work of art, every miniature flaw So-and-So has is exaggerated until he becomes a total monstrosity. Whatever works though. I’m an advocate of pulling out all the stops to get through being broken up with. You gotta do what you gotta do. Another trick of the trade is adding songs like “If You Should Lose Me ” and “Return of the Mack” in heavy rotation into your life soundtrack. Timeless pieces really.
But what always jolts me back into reality and truly gets me back to normal is when I partake in a little revenge fantasizing. An absurd amount of time always ends up being spent on this ‘pastime’, but unfortunately there’s just no getting around it. It’s a necessary step in the healing process if you ask me.
It’s not even revenge per se either, but rather more of like a punishment of sorts. That offender has been quite offensive and needs to be punished for his wrongdoings by feeling the loss of me. Is that so terrible? Him dreaming about better days (with me in them of course)? I think not.
Plus they’re just fantasies. I never actually exact the revenge. A little fantasizing never hurt nobody. They say we live in our minds half the time anyway. And what happens in my head always stays in my head.
I never end up getting that creative with them actually. The plot always stays the same. Time: a couple of months into the future from the backpage date of the breakup. Place: anywhere will do, as long as it’s remotely plausible that I could bump into him while I’m frolicking with my new, improved boyfriend, a.k.a. Version 2.1, if you wanna get technical. (I do work with the Internets after all.).
It’s always glaringly obvious to everyone who matters (i.e. him), that I’ve majorly upgraded too. Initially I was all excited and forgot that you’re never supposed to go with the first version of anything since they’re chock full of problems, but I’ve since wised up and made the trade.
I want to emphasize though that the newer version is always the same make and model as its predecessor. The new man from Backpage site is always exactly like the old one, only better. All the kinks have been worked out.
Oh, hey! Fancy seeing you here! I’m good, thanks. Great actually. I’m just here with the new you. He’s you, just better! Uh huh! You know how you sell computers? Well he makes computers. And you know how you’re short-ish? Well… he’s not.
When I was broken up with by a wanna-be writer he was published. When the ex-boyfriend was a vice president he was a president. He always looks a lot like them too. Same race, same build, pretty much same everything. Only… you guessed it, better.
The best part about these elaborate dreams is they’re created and acted out all from the comfort of my own home. No primping or getting ready required. And in this faced-paced society we live in, I’m thankful for every one less thing I have to do.
I use that extra time to plan the fantasies down to a tee. Every minute detail is carefully thought out, from my attire down to the crestfallen look on his face when he sees me with the better him draped over me like a brand-new coat. He’s always by himself and has an overall dejected vibe, and I’m always glowing.
New Hampshire backpage
I never feel that these dreams have to come true though. Once they’re concocted and played (and played and played) in my head, oh say, 100 times or so, I start feeling like they might have actually happened in real life and start living life again and going about my business, only this time a little older and a little wiser.
So you can imagine my surprise when one day, a scenario worthy of Top Revenge Fantasy status actually came to fruition. The new man wasn’t there for him to be jealous of, but don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining in the least. I’m actually considering changing the static plot of all future fantasies to mirror this one, it was that good.
I was at the Cabana Club with my friends from Backpage site , painting the town red. My face was ‘put on’, my hair was ‘did’, conditions were perfect. So there I was, turning the corner, and guess who I see? None other than the monstrosity. We literally bumped smack dab into each other too, so there was no ‘let me pretend I didn’t see you even though I blatantly did’ going on either.
We did the usual hug and “Hey!” you do to buy time and figure out how you’re going to handle the situation, and then we moved in on the nitty gritty. He asked if I’d gotten his text messages over the last couple of months since he hadn’t heard back from me. I told him that I’d changed my number, and he said in a shocked voice, “Because of ME?” I replied “Of course not! I moved,” in an ‘as if you were important enough to make me change my number’ voice, but I think we all knew exactly what was going on.
Come on, why else would I change a perfectly good 310 cell phone number? Maybe if I’d had a 213 or 818, then maybe, but a 310? We don’t do that. Besides, we don’t have to change our cell phone numbers anymore just because we move. That’s why their called mobile phones. They’ve got mobility. They go where we go. And we know it. We’re not stupid. Except for when we make laws and pick presidents and do stuff like that. Luckily he didn’t press the issue though.
So he asked for my new number, and I said I didn’t think that was such a good idea. When something breaks and you glue it back together, it’s still broken, it just looks fixed. Once bitten twice shy.
And he said “Awww, please Cherie. Come on, you’re a great girl, I’m a nice guyyy….” And I said “Yeah, I AM a great girl”, with no mention of him, because sometimes what you don’t say is more important than what you do. Ooops, did I forget to add you into that little great girl/guy sentence? Now why on earth would I do that? Any idea?
The look that came across his face was exactly like I always picture it in my revenge fantasies too. Pretty sad actually, but I didn’t let it deter me one bit. I was on a roll.
Then his friend came over and tried to pull him away under some pretense, but he ignored the friend and kept trying to talk to me. Which felt pretty good, since this friend had played a major hand in his breaking up with me in the first place. This was his paranoid friend who was petrified he was losing his right-hand man and tried to talk smack against me and the boring, uneventful life his buddy would have had if he went down that route for the rest of his life never being able to be with another girl ever ever again.
So you can imagine this friend was just tickled pink when we broke up. Thrilled to bits. And I think when he saw us talking, he was scared of us being reunited (and it feels so goooood), and had to do everything in his power to ensure that didn’t happen. He didn’t know he had nothing to worry about though.
Once his friend left, I cut him short and said “Well, it sounds like you’ve gotta go. Nice seeing you,” in a very monotone tone. And I’m anything but monotone. 100% multitone. To the core. My attitude was like, “Awwww, I wish I could give you my number, I really and truly wish I could. But I can’t, so I won’t. BuhBye, you take care now.”
Then I walked away in all my glory. But just before I turned the corner in my grand exit I couldn’t resist and looked back at him over my shoulder. He was still in the same spot I’d left him in, staring at me all hurt like a sad little puppy dog.
I still can’t believe that actually happened. Not exactly an everyday occurrence that’s for sure. I was on cloud nine for days. I mean, I always envision their faces once they realize they’ve traded in their diamonds for glass, but to actually see it with my own two eyes? Now that’s the stuff dreams are made of. What a gift. Christmas in July.
The only reason I was able to be that cold-hearted “yo, I’ll see ya later… unless I see ya first” girl was that I was already over him when this blessed moment in time took place. My love feelings had already fizzled, so my performance was easy. And I nailed it, if I do say so myself. I had already come to the conclusion that he wasn’t right for me (even if I had done so out of necessity when he called it quits), and once you go there in your mind you can never go back. It was already a done deal. He wasn’t my pusher no mo’.
I’ve really come a long way from that broken-up-with- girl on Backpage site too, don’t you think? I’m so happy I snapped out of it. Can you imagine if I’d ended up with him? I would be miserable. He was the right guy for that time I was with him, for the retro me, but he’s so not right for Cherie Version Deux. He’s just an Un. We’re simply not compatible. Not a fit.
No hard feelings though. I honestly wish him the best. The best, that is, except for one thing. His getting married and having one of those family things can still only happen after it’s happened to me. That’s where I draw the line. No reason to be a martyr here.
So you see, everything worked out perfectly, just like it always does in my dreams. I’ve moved on, and he, well, he’ll be forever standing in that sad little spot looking at me forlornly as I walk away as far as I’m concerned. Forever getting his in my mind.
He should have known that was going to happen though. Tit for tat. Or, I guess I should say, no tit for behavior like tat. Payback’s a bitch, that’s all there is to it. We all know the world isn’t flat. Everything that goes around eventually comes back around.
Loveawake Dating site : Call / Text : 646-38-35-04