I need everyone to stop what you are doing, take a seat, and swallow whatever wine/vodka scenario you’re currently drinking out of a coffee mug (since it’s noon and some would consider it too early to be consuming alcohol), because I am about to drop some SERIOUSLY GROUNDBREAKING NEWS: I’m single!
Okay, probably not that surprising, but whatever, I just wanted to eliminate all doubt.
Anyway, being single is way more fun than being in a relationship for a million reasons, most of which I’ve already listed. There are a few drawbacks, of course, mainly that you have to pay for your own meals and that it’s super awkward to write yourself cards to go with the new jewelry you buy for yourself…but whatever, I can deal with that. The only real negative aspect of a recent breakup is the ever-present possibility that your ex finds a new girlfriend/FWB before you do. I know this might seem inconceivable, especially for someone as hot and fun as I am, but sometimes it happens. I can’t explain this phenomenon, but it’s weird, it’s out there, and it’s ruining my liver.
Recently, I learned that my former
jewelry purchaser boyfriend has taken an interest in another hole…on the putting green. Usually, I’m very mature about these situations, but that may be because I’m usually the one to find someone else first. I generally inform my ex that I have a current love life situation in subtle, gentle ways: I make sure all of our mutual friends are aware, post an excessive number of pictures on Facebook/Instagram, and show up to our former haunts dangling my rebound in front of him, all because I’m SO sensitive and compassionate. Unfortunately, this time, I had the opportunity to execute NONE of these crucial steps to moving on, because my ex-boyfriend beat me in the moving on game.
I have this weird gift, I like to refer to it as “The Crazy Sense” and it kicks in whenever I sense someone may be wronging me in some corner of the world. A few nights ago, while I was doing my nightly Facebook stalking over a crisp glass of Chardonnay, I had a bizarre sense that something was off balance in the perfect world of Pearls. So, I did some investigating and just as I’d suspected, some mystery girl had been BLOWING UP my ex’s Facebook wall. Immediately, I went on high alert/stalker status. Not only did I learn everything I needed to know about this girl to conclude she was a TOTAL downgrade for him (but pretty much anyone would have been a downgrade from me), but I started to flip out when I realized that I will forever be associated with this ugly slut because of our annoying degree of separation.
Dealing with your ex moving on is one of the most difficult aspects of a breakup. Breakups are generally amazing; you cry for like four days so everyone has to be nice to you, you don’t eat, you lose 10 lbs, and you get blackout drunk for a week straight once your roommates finally pull you out of the cave you’ve turned your bedroom into. However, once this fun subsides, reality sets in: one of you is going to move on first, and it’s going to suck when it happens. There are two ways to handle this situation when it arises: you can be the bigger, more mature person, and just accept it and move on, wishing your ex the best and realizing that you’ll find someone soon who will make you even happier than he ever made you, or you can handle it the way I do: by going insane.
Here is a brief recap of my actions after finding out who this
skank girl was, and confirming that my ex was, in fact, seeing her.
10:58 PM: Emptied my glass of Chardonnay, and poured another.
11:03 PM: Finished my glass of vino, said “Fuck it,” and just started drinking straight from the bottle.
11:07 PM: Began taking to Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook to alert everyone of the most recent indiscretion made by my idiot ex-boyfriend. (Real Instagram: Picture of me drinking with my roommates with the caption When you find out your ex is now dating a stripper. #drunk True? No, but she might as well be with eyeliner like that.)
11:15 PM: Concluded that I hadn’t done enough damage, and began creeping my ex’s wall. “Liked” EVERYTHING the stupid bitch posted on his Facebook, and made comments wherever she did. (I highly recommend this. Not only does it alert all mutual friends that a storm is brewing, but it scares the new girl off because it’s obvious her boyfriend has some unfinished business with an insane former flame. Well-placed comments are key: you want to appear enraged/unstable, but NOT bitter/jealous. Girls LOVE thinking people are jealous of them. I, Pearls Hilton, would like to go on the record to state that I will NEVER be jealous of a girl with a nose ring.) Anyway, some of my favorite comments included “SO CUTE!” and “I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU TWO! IT WAS SO NICE TO TALK TO YOU ON THE PHONE AND HEAR ABOUT HOW SHE’S THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE AND HOW YOU THINK YOU TWO SHOULD MOVE IN TOGETHER.” Okay, this girl is clearly just some rebound scenario. I know there’s no way he’s serious about her, which makes it even more hilarious that he’s going to have to explain this to her once the seed of commitment has been planted in her simple little mind.
12:45 AM: Realized I’d consumed 2 bottles of wine, 2 Soco Cherry and Diet Cokes (desperate times call for desperate drinks) and one Ketel on the rocks. It’s safe to say I was belligerent. I then proceeded to cry to my roomie about my life/dating drama and then decided since my asshole ex has caused me this much pain, it’s only fair that I reciprocate. I did what anyone else in their right mind would have done: I emailed his mother. It was nothing TOO serious, just a friendly holiday greeting in which I told her how much I missed her this Thanksgiving (side note: she LOVED me…obviously), and how she shouldn’t judge his new girlfriend too harshly because you can’t blame a girl who got addicted to pills for becoming an exotic dancer to support her drug habit. It is a disease after all.
9:30 AM: Woke up from my alcohol-induced coma to a screaming, angry ex on the other end of my phone yelling about how I “need to grow up” and how I’m “a fucking psycho” and that I may or may not have “ruined his life.”