Handling your Breakup, Day 1

Cry.

Hug your dog. Accept many licks. At least someone still wants to kiss you.

Follow a friend's advice to flush his picture back to the Underworld from whence it came. Realize the photo is on excellent quality paper and will cause a major clog. Burn it first. Laugh gleefully as the flames nip his heels as he stands on that mountain pass in Greece. You took that picture.

Sacrifice complete, flush mess away. He would call you a psycho for doing this, but then he's the psycho for making you feel this way.

Get dressed in a fabulous outfit. Make yourself pretty. Use lots of concealer. Benefit Lyin' Eyes hides tear streaks beautifully. You know this because you've hidden these tears before.

Shop. If possible, spend hundreds on shit you don't need. Realize this is not possible; spend hundreds on shit you do need. An office lamp, a living room lamp, a black leather magazine basket/case floor thing, and buckets of pina colada mix for your sister's tiki-themed bridal shower.

Realize no one will ever want to marry you, or give you a shower with bucket pina colada mix. Cry some more.

Eat chocolate to make it better. Dark, sugar free, guilt free chocolate. You haven't totally lost your mind.

Remember how mad you are at the world and blare "Du Hast" from the stereo. Put song on repeat.

Play with your dog in the backyard. Accidentally throw his favourite squeak toy into the neighbour's yard. Watch dog become frantic over loss of toy. Cry because you are a bad mother.

Watch War of the Worlds. At least breakups are easier than alien invasions.

Lie on your bed, stare at ceiling. Attempt with every fiber of your being to deflate all evil thoughts of dying alone.

Try to sleep. The worst is over.