On breakups. And Twilight.

Unapologetic confession: I really love Twilight. I’ve read the books through twice and have seen all of the movies.

Apologetic confession: I continue to follow the Robert Pattinson / Kristen Stewart breakup. (Unrelated sidenote: I found this link of Kristen Stewart’s Grumpiest Faces Ever looking for the previous link.)

I’m not sure why, other than the shallow explanation of my initial love of the Twilight book series. (Because obviously, the book is always better.) Part of it though is because who can’t relate to a break-up story? (Leading to another *semi*apologetic confession: I really, really love Taylor Swift.) Poor Robert and Kristen’s demise has made me reminisce about my broken hearted days of yore…

Things I have done as a result of or directly preceding a break up:

1. Cry.

2. Listen to sad, sad, mopey songs. After a high school breakup, my friend Clay made me a fantastically mopey mixed tape. The song that I most remember rewinding and replaying is High and Dry, by Radiohead. Mope-tastic.

3. Lose my appetite. Lose 15 pounds. Not my best move.

4. Cry into pillow.

5. Call my mom. At 6:30am. Then at 6:45am. And probably, let’s be honest, in 20-30 minute increments for the rest of the day. For 2 weeks in a row.

6. Call my grandma. I’ve written about this before. I asked her if I was going to end up alone. She asked me if I was drunk. (For the record, I was not.)

7. Cry onto teddy bear.

8. Write a letter to lost love and tell him that I had gone to the mall shopping with another guy. And bought a bikini there. (It was a friend and I needed a new bathing suit. Unmentioned in the letter.) His parents intercepted it and read it instead. Fail. Again, let’s be honest in admitting that it was a fail from the start. Double fail.

9. Pack away all nostalgic remnants of previous love into a closet. Cry maniacally in the car, in public, when I find a keychain with my name on it he made me in the car door cupholder of which I forgot to dispose.

10. Cry onto Catboy.

11. Make Lola  continually recap with me what happened. And why I was better off. And how the new girl he was dating was no-contest ugly. Because everyone knows that when girls feel bad about themselves they have a compulsive need to tear down any girls threatening their mope-fest with their attractiveness, intelligence, wittiness, or general je ne sais quoi.

12. Cry on floor. Wipe snot with sock on floor. (A repeat performance.)

As I said in my previous post, I am eternally grateful for Ryan. As are my mother, grandma, Lola, and Catboy. I will, however, admit to still having regressed into using the sock-kleenex thing in recent years. (But just for regular sad stuff- not breakups. I think I am saying that to justify it. Don’t worry. I do know it is unjustifiable… but convenient, non?)

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