Toughen up, Nancy!

Getting dumped made me really strange every time, and my behavior usually follows the pattern below:

1st day– Really numb. Don’t really know what has happened.
2nd -3rd day -Cry like a river, especially in front of Mom. Waiting for his call.
4th -7th day – Remunerating scenes in my head and how I could have prevented the breakup. Waiting for his call.

A week later – Got really suspicious and almost confirmed that he got a new girl and that’s why he dumps me. Make appointment with fortuneteller.
1.5 week later– Bitterness set in. Reassured by best friends that he has definitely mistreated me and I should be the one who dumped him instead while at the same time, binge reading on the internet about “signs that it was not over” “getting-back-together” stories. Waiting for his call.

2 weeks later– Can’t stand the emotional rollercoaster and start the Prozac regimen. Go out a lot. Get new haircut/botox/filelr injection. Make appointment with another fortuneteller.
2.5 weeks later – Began really paranoid about missed call and calls with no sound coming from the other side. Try to read fate from random things like shape of feces.

3 weeks later during the day: Getting too eager in front of opposite sex because of the Prozac highs. Delete photos with him in it.
3 weeks later during the night: Miss him, A LOT.  Re-watch photos with him at PC’s Rubbish bin.

A month later: start online dating. Minimize window when logging onto account or else colleagues would notice. Online fortunetelling.
A month later: The IT guy knows anyways. So does my boss. And my manager. And my colleagues. And whoever is msn-ing with my colleagues.

2 months later: Get really annoyed by horny guys who try to sleep with me within the first 3 dates. Regain standards in mate selection.
2.5 months: Wonder if I am in the same league with those weirdoes I usually attract online. If yes, then I must look (1) quite ugly ; (2)very, very, very horny in my profile pix.

3 months: Stop online dating. Have had enough.

So, call me childish, I don’t see the necessity of being friends with any ex-es except the ones that you dump, of course. When I saw my gfs trying to be friends with ex-es, quoting the “that was a long time ago. I am fine now..”shit, the follwong picture comes into my head:

(Photo above)Yup. That’s right. You are the innocent kid playing with fire. And I will be that tongue-sticking dog making the funny face when that happens.

What about forgiveness? Hell no. But, a more mature person will tell you that:

“Forgiveness is  about you letting go of your own grudges in your head…”

Which I will add:

” Honestly, they don’t care, and you don’t need to be a Saint.”

So toughen up, Nancy!

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About fululu

Number-blind working in IR. Exported to Canada , re-imported back to Asia after a decade and seven failed attempts of getting a driveing license. Known for excessive use of foul languages. Wear dress only. Have a flatmate who dedicated 1/3 of her life in the sports of "extreme hair removal."
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