Amongst the fields of opium

I recieved this from my friend in Thailand;

'I can't quite express how much of a good time I am having here. Shagging and sniffing going well as per. If you could see me now honey. I am on one piecey crease, Fuck *Steven for me, smoke copious amounts of crack. Inject to the max and be the all time dirty dog I am being here. I have destroyed Thailand and myself in the process. Ohhhh the stories I have to tell you mate. I tried opium last week. I feel like crying whilst I write this because your face is in my head and the smell of your vag is in my nose. You better tell everyone I am alive and well and love you all mills. I wish I could write more but it's only making me miss you more as you should be here with me to hold my rolled up notes, wipe the blood from my orifices etc etc'

That is love.

Getting back in the sack

So my friend *Ems has a new fuck buddy. Having just broken up with her boyfriend (and being a chronic sufferer of extreme horniness), this can only be a good thing. In a matter of days her messages to me went from 'I am a horny mess. I'm going through my phonebook trying to find someone to have sex with. Is it worth driving all the way to London to sleep with *Nick, even though i know it will be completely average...he does have a six-pack though', (after which i advised her that no, it wasn't worth it and that a six-pack on a guy who is bad in bed is about as useful as a six-pack of beer that’s been opened and left in the sun for a week. Flat and totally unsatisfying)to 'i have had to cancel my riding lesson for today because my fanny is so sore from having sex with *Tom all night'. She followed up the latter message with a picture of the scratches she had left all over his back. And i am truly happy for her.

See that’s the thing about break-ups, they are completely situational. The amount of time you take to get over someone is not (contrary to popular belief)related to how in love with someone you are. The first time i broke up with my ex was in his first year of uni and my GCSE year (when, i might add all my best friends, being older than me, were also at uni). This fucking sucked. Having to sit at home and revise, knowing he was out there having the time of his life, was almost suicide inducing.

However, this time round, being on my year out, with about the same amount of responsibility as a newborn baby and having my best friends around me (who were also going through break-ups themselves) meant that closure came quickly and conveniently. As i comforted my friends and offered my advice ('you're better off without him', 'you're too young to be in a full on relationship') i began to taste my own medicine. Add a LOT of boozy, single ladies nights out to a number of successful one night stands and you have the perfect recipe to getting over it (note the use of the word 'successful'-for a disappointing sexual encounter could send you spiraling back into depression). This is where friends become even more essential in 1. Encouraging you to laugh at the situation and 2. making you get back on the saddle...and into the sack.

Never underestimate the value of your friends. I don't know what i would do without mine. And the thought of 5 months without them is enough to drive me mad. I do however, look forward to copious skanky emails detailing their continuation of those boozy nights out!!!

Facebook Freaks

Break-ups are as old as time. From Henry VIII's high profile divorce from Catherine of Aragon, the illustrious end to the affair between Monroe and Kennedy to the modern day split of Jude and Sienna. Relationships have failed since the X and Y chromosomes first split and will, i suspect, continue to do so till the last man (or woman) is left standing.

As the centuries have passed the way we react to certain things have drastically altered. We no longer scorn a naked ankle; shoulder pads have been in and out...and in again. Yet the way we react to a broken heart has stood the test of time. There will always be certain songs and certain places that are off limits after a break-up. There will always be the anxiety that pervades the first meeting with an ex and most profoundly is the jealously inflicted by a new girlfriend. These things are as basic in human nature as an LBD in a fashionistas wardrobe, always there, but only brought out when the time is right.

However, while the post break-up jig had always been danced the same way, it has come to my attention that modern day heartache is being intensified by the trends brought in by the 21st century. I refer to one trend in particular. It has come to be a dominant presence in the lives of those who use it. It has become both feared and revered, like some redoubtable headmaster. It beats you but you can’t help but seek its approval because it undoubtedly holds all the power. This trend is the facebook trend, and although I was aware of its ever increasing influence, it has taken my recent break-up, and the break-ups of some close friends of mine to fully realise the power facebook truly yields.

‘I’ve had a really bad day today’ has become the common statement from my newly single friends. ‘I saw on his/her facebook wall…’ is the even more common expansion of such a statement. And so it begins. The daily war between the often warped post break-up logic and the facebook phenomenon that has the nation, fuck it, THE WORLD, gripped.

Facebook has become both friend and foe during the end of a break-up. Facebook can often be used as an online opportunity for the dump-ee to post pictures of their new (fabulous) single life, exposing new found male attention in saucy photos, any dramatic weight loss in skimpy outfits and enabling them to post news of glorious new careers, hopefully prompting the ex (the bastard that broke your heart) to think 'damn i definitely made a mistake'. I mean, isn't this what we all strive for? Even if we are completely over them, we all seek that profound satisfaction that comes from someone that hurt us, hurting over us. It doesn't make us bad people; it is again, simply human nature.

However, the danger here is highly evident and it only takes a recently broken hearted friend to expose you to the severity of the situation. I've seen it happen...I’ve done it as well!!! What happens when one is so deeply hung up on their ex that creating a facebook page which depicts just how 'over it' they are in fact prevents moving on at all.

Nights out become nothing more than obsessive photo opportunities where you forget to actually enjoy yourself, instead being consumed by the need to get your picture snapped with any male that might evoke jealousy in your ex. Furthermore, status changes are thought out with the same excruciating effort that one might put into their a level coursework and comments from boys are provoked in excess. Every aspect of facebook becomes a tool with which to manipulate your ex (where more often than not, it goes completely unnoticed).

Yet, throughout all of this is the even darker side of the facebook break-up, the constant stalking of your ex's wall which proves the above...that quite clearly they haven't been checking yours. Comments as meaningless as 'hey, how are you?' from random girls haunt you from morning till night. Perhaps they are left by a girl who shared the bed of your ex, or perhaps they are left by a distant cousin...the worst part is, you just don’t know.

I thought it was bad when i read emails from girls exposing his infidelity. Messages that proved without a shadow of a doubt that he had cheated. But facebook is worse. It leaves that lingering bastard question mark of has he, hasn’t he?
So why the hell can't we switch off? Are we really such sadomasochists that we must indulge in this self harm everyday...sometimes 10 times a day? One of my (male) friends sat on his ex's facebook simply refreshing the page every 30seconds, calling to update me on any minute changes. Why can't we realise that while we are glued to the screen trying to work out whether they are moving on, our ex's are out there glued to someone’s lips, actually doing it. Actually moving on.

So this is my advice to you, don't loose sight of reality after a break-up. What does it matter if your ex sees a stunningly skinny photo of you draped around some Abercrombie and Fitch wannabe if your sat at home alone constantly refreshing their page forgetting to live your life. Being perceived as happy by your ex does not compare to being truly happy in real life.

So instead of being a freak on facebook, go get freaky on some fittys face. Ok.

So Long Sadness

Things have changed. I don't know when. I don't know why, but they have. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime (but which I do admit is only a matter of weeks), my smile is genuine. You feel this change as profoundly as if you had woken up one morning with wings. Suddenly things are easier. Suddenly you're braver. Suddenly you realise that things simply aren't that bad.

And you feel foolish. You're embarrassed that your friends saw you crying (or in my case had to peel your mangy corpse off the floor), you cringe that you called him so many times, and you’re sorry that you wasted your time on someone so utterly meaningless to your future happiness. But you're at peace. No hate. No sadness. Normality begins to set it.

You don't realise until you're over it just how fragile a break-up makes you. Everything is just a ticking time-bomb to tears and tantrums. From someone merely asking you how you are, to checking your phone...anything can evoke that deep sadness, that gut wrenching realisation that it’s over.

My Mother won't mention his name (she always did take our break-ups harder than me, so was the extent of her adoration for him), and my darling little brother can't believe he let him play on his x-box' (yeah well i can't believe i let him play on my x-box while he was playing on some other girls x-box). As for me though, no longer is he the 'averagely endowed, Chlamydia ridden basterd whose only achievement in life is the rapid spread of stis and probable impregnation of countless whores around England and Wales', and no longer (and quite rightly) is his new girlfriend 'the ignorant, ugly slut who ruined my life' (although my bestie did do me a favor and send me a photo of her and frankly, it left me feeling a little smug).

I have seemingly raced through the 5 stages of grief with impressive yet alarming speed.
I left denial in the dust having quickly accepted that yes, he really does have a new girlfriend.
I quickly abandoned anger after the valentine’s text that went ignored.
I gave bargaining a brief look in having badgered his phone with psychotic intensity.
And well, i think the imaginary noose i hung for myself while in depression speaks for itself.
But now acceptance has come a-knocking, and it is glorious, like a cig after a non-smoking cab. I can't inhale it deeply enough.


So, how could a new singleton with a burning desire to exercise this new lease of life possibly do so???

A 5 month round-the-world trip should do it.
I leave in 10 days.

If there is some resentment still bubbling away inside of me, a few mint majitos on the beach in Thailand should settle it...not to mention countless buff boys in Aus...