It's Called a Breakup Because It's Broken

photo credit: alt3rd-state

I have to say, I'm not super proud of this post. But I've always been super honest and open on the topic, and I promised to review every book I read from cover to cover here, so here goes nothing.

The book: It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken. The authors: husband and wife duo, Greg Behrendt & Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt (Should we trust them more because they are happily married? Especially because 1/2 of them is a Dating Advice Rock Star?)

How did I ever come to find myself in a situation where I would need to read a book like this? How did I become "that girl"? Oh well. Self-help books exist for a reason, as bad a wrap as they get. I poured over the titles in the self-help section of my local library, hoping to find something that would jump out at me. This was the closest thing I could find, though it wasn't quite what I was looking for. The proverbial ship has sailed on this situation, but the scabs haven't completely healed over, so I decided "Eh, well I may as well give it a read."

The book is funny, light-hearted, and very, very frank. No, it didn't eventually answer the question I went into it asking, but I'm afraid some things can't be found in books, my dears. Did I mention it was frank? (And by "frank" I don't mean your stupid friend who tried to get himself deported, only to try to get back. ...Who doesn't have a Frank in their life?) What I mean is it hit some raw nerves that somehow hadn't been touched on yet. How can a book, published 6 years ago, be so all knowing? Answer: (you might want to write this one down and stick it on your vanity mirror) You Aren't That Special! Oh sure, you're a snowflake alright. But the situation you're in? It's been done. It's been done by Hollywood, MTV, the Ancient Greeks, Revolutionary Frenchmen, Dr Who, you name it. Is there some comfort in that? Maybe. 

This book does not guarantee a major plastic surgery on your broken, train wreck of a heart. But this book does have something great to offer - caution and self-esteem boosts. Here, let me pull up some gems for you gals:

“The time it takes to feel better about a breakup is directly proportional to the time it takes to feel better about yourself.” 

“Even with all the mayonnaise in the world, you can't make chicken salad out of chicken shit.” 

 “It's an odd thing to think about, but try imagining that your breakup is a disease. If you were told that you had a serious yet curable disease, would you go get hammered on a regular basis? Eat two bags of Oreos? Chain-smoke, pop, pills, get stoned, or fuck around? NO YOU WOULDN'T. You would take great care of yourself and cut all the unhealthy things out of your life."

Just keep reminding yourself that you're a catch. Yes, it hurts like hell to have someone choose another person over you - especially because you cared very much and very deeply for that person. But don't take that to mean that you're disposable. You aren't. Think of those home decorating shows - people (okay, gay men) literally decorate their beautiful, exquisite homes with things that they find in other people's garbage or flea markets. You're like that pine chifforobe left out on the curb, and then an Antonio finds you and makes you desirable. But you are, in fact, a human person. Which means that you have legs and upward mobility and you can walk yourself off of that gross curb or out of that dusty flea market and you don't even have to wait around for your fairy gay-mother. In fact, you don't even need a Prince Smarming either, but you're entitled to one if you really want one.
This book is really cute, and it's good to have handy when cupid whacks you in the face with the back of his hand. Don't do anything crazy, live your life, and if you can't well... fake it til you make it. That's what I always do!