Issue 24: Thank You, Next
Frankie Dale | She/Her
Heartbreak Hotel
The night I was dumped most recently, I was at a high school reunion. I was basically begging my ex-ex boyfriend to hook up with me whilst I had vomit dried onto my chin (I'm genuinely so sorry). I fell down some stairs, threw up in a bathtub and sent lengthy messages to my mans saying that I'd do anything for him to take me back. Turns out he was already seeing someone else, but who was I to know.
We all know the saying ‘love hurts’, but I can’t help feeling like this is completely romanticised. We think that the days following the heartbreak will be the worst and that we will heal with time. But, as I'm sure you know just as well as I do— there are good days and bad days. In hindsight I was heartbroken by a skin-head-esque wannabe eminem with a third eye tattooed in the middle of his chest.
If you’re feeling a little heartbroken right now, please take solace in my usual cringe. I went to his flat dressed like a french prostitute on a Sunday morning to retrieve a sock I had planted behind his bed in hopes he’d want me back.
Heartbreak can cause our little egos to go on a hiatus—possibly leaving us in a state of complete shamelessness and desperation. It’s gross to think back and realise that only recently was I seeking validation from anyone who would give it. Like, give it up Frankie your hot doctor at student health isn’t into you. He’s genuinely terrified of you. I know it’s hard, but don’t send that text. In order to heal, we don’t always need to go through the ‘slut’ phase. I attempted it and unfortunately, had a mental breakdown. (In saying that, go right ahead if it feels good!!!)
After a romantic breakup, everyone is so understanding of the fact that I’m going to check out for a few months and apply for an Aegrotat for all my psych exams. Yet, when a friendship ends, they expect you to pop an ibuprofen and get on with things?
Friendship heartbreak is also a thing I think we need to start normalizing as equally as traumatic. Recently one of my best friends started secretly dating my ex. I think people forget that friendship break-ups can be even harder than romantic break-ups. Like, we’re talking about the bitch I’ve known since I was 12, not some DC skater boy who cooks lean in his mum’s kitchen. A girl I’ve spent thousands of hours roaming the streets of San Andreas with on GTA. A girl who never judged me for my preference of Maggi noodles. I let this girl borrow my most iconic ‘fuck me’ boots for New Years.
And the toughest thing of all, is that I still feel for her and the heartbreak she will feel. The love you have for a friend is different. Mine was unconditional for her, unlike the musician I knew was going to undoubtedly fuck me over. I have to keep reminding myself that she chose this outcome. She chose his experience over mine.
Goodbyes are gross and hard. Sometimes they are permanent, sometimes they are merely temporary. Sometimes it’s an easy decision, and other times deciding whether to say goodbye can make us question everything. Saying goodbye to this column certainly falls into the latter category of tough goodbyes. Thank you all for being my therapists and confidants. Like I said many columns ago, Wellington is toxic and fuck, it still is. But, I hope I offered some light into your little hearts. Although I doubt this about myself every single day—we are all THAT bitch.