I have a few friends going through break-ups and I asked one of them if they had any ideas for an article. He suggested that I write some DO's and DON'TS about break-ups. What he really meant was: write an article (and email it to my ex-girlfriend) called "do not sleep with your ex-boyfriend's band mate." Sound advice. She literally yoko-ed his band. That's too bad for him.
But really, I think it's quite simple. Don't continue to sleep together and Do move away. It's always worked for me. Especially the moving away. While I am no expert on what to do or what not to do when you break up, I certainly am an expert on breaking up and moving out (of town).
I graduated college in 2004, and since then, I have moved 16 times. Three cross-country moves and at least six different states. I have had just about that many boyfriends. Some weren't too serious and only required a small cross town move and maybe some new bedding (for new memories). My college boyfriend, who I dated for 3 and half years, required a jaunt to Europe, which I followed with a lovely cross country move. Perfect. I can hardly remember his name.
Well, I do remember his name, but I don't remember his birthday. After dating him for just six months, I remember nervously thinking, "Wow this will be sad when we break up." Three years later it was. I cried. I hyperventilated. I drank too much. I drank way too much and I cried. But then I stopped because I packed up my Volvo and drove far, far away. The only tears I shed were for my Volvo, which I also ended up leaving behind (in Iowa . . . totaled)
I never had to see him out on the town with a new, prettier, and I am sure more talented car maneuverer. I didn't have to see him after I just woke up, wearing sweatpants and without makeup, to pick up coffee, and I certainly never ran into him celebrating his new marriage with his new girlfriend that he married three weeks after we broke up. I wasn't there six months later when they divorced and he had yet another pretty, wonderful driver by his side. I never had to see that because I wasn't there. I didn't get drunk and text him, "I wanna see you," because even in my drunkenness I knew I couldn't see him. Months went by without anything making me think of him. After almost four years, he was gone. Not one restaurant, bar, face or place made me think of him. He hadn't put his fingerprint on my new life. He was out of my life and I was over it.
So sure, don't sleep with his band mates, don't cry at his doorstep, don't text him at 3 A.M. telling him you need him/miss him/want him. And do move on. The best way is by moving out . . . out of town.
