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January 20, 2011

  • Life After the Break-Up
  • He thought he was over it. Six months. He had done his best, pushed on, moved forward. He had done what he could to put himself out there.

    But it would come back. Always. In unexpected ways. The memory of the break-up. Being told it’s not me, it’s you. (Only really you feel it’s you.) Go now please. Give us our property, we’ll have yours sent to you. Leave now.

    The memory of the break-up haunted him. It crippled him. Six months. You give your love, your devotion, your time and it’s not enough. And then you’re left to fend for yourself. Alone.

    It’s so fucking hard out there. Again. Trying to get noticed. Trying to have someone to respond to one of those cheesy lines. Doing everything you can to look as impressive as you possibly can be.

    Sometimes it works. You get yourself dressed up and go out and put your best foot forward. You obsess about how it will go beforehand and obsess about every word you said afteward. You wait and wait by the phone, hoping desperately they’ll call again. And they don’t.

    Sometimes you’ll call them, hoping not to sound like the needy fool and sometimes they respond back and tell you, it’s not you, it’s them, you’re just not their type.

    Then there are all the time wasters, the people who call you even though they want someone else, but they just want to make sure. Or they just feel they need to see a certain number of people a month. You become cynical about these people—you can often figure out who they are immediately when they call you—but you go out to see them because you want something better. You don’t want to be lost at sea, alone.

    Mostly, you live with indifference. Large amounts of indifference as no one seems to be interested in you. You fiddle with the lines, try to figure out a different approach, but no one is interested. You see potentials anywhere. They don’t see you.

    Your friends tell you, it’s not you, it’s them, it’s the economy. You want to believe them, but it’s hard not to take it personally. It’s hard not to start feeling ugly. Invisible.

    You can’t help it but you remember the days before the break-up and remember what it was like when you were together and then remember the break-up and you find yourself living in that moment again and again.

    You try to live in hope. You keep putting yourself out there, hoping someone will notice you, and notice you again and see what you have to offer and want you. That’s all anyone wants, really. To be noticed.

    And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find a job. Because that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

    Posted by graeme | (3) Comments | Permalink

    << Regretting Erica   |   Main   |   Bonding >>

    Scott  on  02/09  at  12:14 PM

    Very droll Mr. Burk, heartfelt on one level, but mostly very droll.

    Leslie Robinson  on  02/14  at  10:10 PM

    I find myself unemployed for the first time in 25 years. This hits home.

    I wish you well.

    Roo  on  05/24  at  02:11 PM

    I hope things are better for you a few months on. You’ve very eloquently expressed how I feel about my last break up. Which more than a year later I still feel deeply and still slightly broken. I

    Best wishes x

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