I have this dream that one day the term “bad breakup” will be eradicated from the planet. I know I should be rooting for the end of cancer, poverty and famine but I guess my dreams just aren’t that energetic.
What is a bad breakup anyway? Isn’t it the same thing as a breakup? I mean, if you enjoy a good breakup, then how good was the relationship to begin with and why the hell were you in it? Seriously. Breakups are meant to be dramatic trespasses into the fourth act of a three act production. They make you weepy and depressed and borderline suicidal/homicidal. It’s called romance.
Figure it this way. Demand for the supply of flowers, candy, books, movies, sex toys and diamonds never, ever, ever wanes. So we’re talking powerful stuff here. And like the saying goes, with great power comes great, big pissed off balls of anger. Or something like that, you get my drift.
Good breakups? It’s like good vanilla ice cream. Good water. It’s best definition is reserved for sitcom spin-offs. No one ever remembers a good breakup and there’s a reason for that. It’s boring as shit.
I had the amicable divorce. The one where I remained friendly with my ex wife. But make no mistake, the actual separation was kerosene on a campfire with roman candles mixed in for good measure. After which things got heated.
That’s how breakups go down once commitment becomes a distant memory and she feels trivial and you feel marginalized and you both HATE yourselves for having loved the other.
All I’m saying is it’s redundant to have bad dancing around clumsily with breakup. Because it’s an explanation so rife with overkill that even Lions Gate wouldn’t pony up some advance money on a treatment that sported such a title.
Here’s a thought for the boys and girls out there who blog and facebook and tweet all about their bad breakups . . . Don’t. We’re all adults here, and we really do understand.