Love is not in the air
Clare is back with her latest offering…
I blame the influx of ‘changed their relationship status to single’ on my Facebook newsfeed on the fact no one has money to buy their other halves Christmas presents. I, for one, have had to make a few nervous phone calls to Barclays to further extend my overdraft. These phone calls are always a traumatic affair normally involving a sceptical banker interrogating you about your ‘outgoings’ and having to lie about spending money on books and ‘school supplies’. Apart from my obvious commiserations to the suffering of others, I can’t help but feel a little bit joyful that they too have joined the lonely hearts club.
I believe that there are seven musical stages to any breakup:
Sinead O’Connor ‘Nothing compares 2U’. It’s been actually around 2 hours and 1 day but we feel your pain, Sinead. This stage is normally shared with lying on your bed staring at the ceiling whilst the tears trickle down your cheeks, one hand in a box of Lindt chocolates, the other perhaps scribbling down some poetry.
“Fuck relationships. Fuck love” will be your war cry as you stomp around the house fist pumping to Miley Cyrus ‘Seven Things’, slamming doors and generally leaving a trail of destruction in your wake. And not giving a shit.
Damn who’s a sexy Bitch? That would be me, David Guetta. Yes, I am a sexual person who is control of their body and everyone wants a piece of me a.k.a I will accept any passing attention in the club and lose all sense of propriety and self-worth. (This stage is perhaps the most dangerous, we all remember ‘Oceana sket’? I am 100% sure she was recovering from heart break… why else would she get naked in a paddling pool on stage and why else would her friends let her do so? I’m sure they thought it would be good to get it all out of her system.)
This is the bitter stage and this can go on for a long time. It’s the Eamon ‘Fuck it (I don’t want you back)’ stage. The amount of ex- boyfriend/girlfriend bashing which your friends will be obliged/forced to join in with can get a little wearing for them after a while. But don’t worry, this is about you.
Wooooo ‘All the single Ladies, now put your hands up’! A great stage normally combined with ‘girls nights out’ on which the motto tends to be “You can never have too much Beyonce”.
‘I get knocked down, but I get up again’- you are triumphant, strong, determined. Ready to face challenges head on. You feel like you are in a montage possibly to Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Stronger’.
Finally, the weeks of mourning, bitterness and promiscuity subside and you can bop merrily up and down to some Taylor Swift ‘We are never ever ever getting back together’. Like ever.
So there you are: a musical guide to the break up. As you may have gathered I am still single, and if you read my pervious article when I subjected myself to go on five blind dates you will be sorry to hear that I have not received any Facebook friend requests post dates. Ouch.
Thus, I have done the mature thing in this situation and jumped on the twitter bandwagon to flirt outrageously with celebrities. Am I mentioning Twitter in a shameless attempt to get more followers? Yes (now this looks like a job for me so everybody just follow me…). These have been my attempts so far:
So far the response has been tepid at best.
However, despite eating your body weight in comfort food and listening to copious amounts of Adele, there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon. If Honey Boo Boo’s mum can have four children anyone can get some love and affection.