Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Go home, Cupid. You are drunk.

The other day a couple of friends and I delved into the topic of emotional cutting. Just in time for Valentine's Day.

Emotional cutting: the practice of purposely seeking out things that you know will only hurt you, such as creeping on your ex's Facebook page, or blathering incessantly about an ex as though you were still in some sort of relationship, or even hopelessly watching romantic movies with the full knowledge that those kinds of endings never happen. Emotional cutting is often used as a painful and unfortunately effective procrastination technique for moving on.

It is a term made popular by the ever eloquent Miss Carrie Bradshaw. Yes, I am aware that she is a fictional character. But she is THE fictional character who's goddess quotient I aspire to daily. Hence the over abundant use of Carrie quotes.

So the gal pals and I journeyed through a plethera of failed relationships passed. We collectively scratched our heads and shrugged our shoulders. Where had we gone wrong? Now, I'm not certain that I would recommend this type of group toxic purging therapy to just anyone. Especially so close to Valentine's Day. But, it works for us. We have lovingly come to refer to our sessions as kitchen table confidentials.


Valentine's Day. This is the time of year that most all Singletons abhore. The commercials alone are enough to make you want to pull out a bow of your own and fire it off at the next hint of anything love related. A la Katniss. Cupid be damned.

I have an affinity for Brach's cherry heart jube gel candy that only come out this time of year. But, heaven forbid I set foot in the Hallmark store. Emotional cutting 101: by all means, go to the Valentine's Day headquarters between January 1st and February 14 as often as possible. Never will you feel so emtionally negated and homely than during this particular holiday season at this particular locale.

Yeah. Um, no thanks.

Now, emotional cutting is not reserved for the fairer sex alone. Oh no. I realize that some of you male figures consider this to be a female's area of expertise. I think you may refer to it as unleashing the crazy, or topping out at level 5 clinger. But, I have seen some of the most verile of you crumble to your knees when the object of your desires rejects you like yesterday's bacon.

The male version, however, looks a little something more like a scene from a Tarantino movie. For example, I recall a certain "man" who changed his regular route home from work in hopes of discovering the identity of the owner of a suspicious looking vehicle which had been parked in the near vicinity of his ex's home on a regular basis since shortly after the demise of their relationship. He was simply concerned about the safety of his former love. Uh huh.

Regrettably,  we all have the calculated means by which we torment ourselves over the one (or more) that got away. It really is an unfortunate step in the whole moving on process. That same process which allows us to open ourselves up to new and exciting possibilities. To, oh, I don't know, love again?

But, for now, I implore you, Cupid. Keep on moving. I know you see the no solicitors sign hanging on my front door. I mean it....go away.

You're still here?  BEAT IT! Seriously.

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