Spring rain and JB on beige chinos. Leggy millennials squawk in the disco lit windows. I am young in face and old in dissatisfaction. My amaretto sour served without egg whites, too much orange rind is always a problem. I suck the cherry and try and tie the stem with my tongue – I was never that kind of woman. Waiting for my lover in the corner under the heater and birdcaged bare bulbs, the bar is honey-thick with noise and that lawyer from Market St with a name like Ryan or Brian or Sean or Cheyne, is drunk (constantly), and he’s punching above his weight again with the blonde in the middle, always the blondes. He thinks blonde equals gullible but she crosses her legs at him. I’ve bitten my tongue more than once on the topic of his 90’s spiked hair – frosted tips. He quotes Bruce Lee incorrectly and adds his spin on the severity of climate change and I want to mock his hair and correct him but he’d recognise me and then where would we be? Spring rain and beige chinos. Or the last thing we spoke of before the rape joke and the spilled drink and all that mistaken identity business, so I hide in this swamp of crocodiles and parrots, until your arms come and lift me in a hug. He looks with something like recognition, turns, and tells the one about the Jew and the German.
Stop. Confetti time. I’m graduating this December.
It’s all happening. New beginnings, new phases of life. Happy Marc-Jacobs-ad-fields-of-flowers euphoria times; dating people, un-dating people, roommates moving out, intense family times, the threat of jingle bells, birthdays, weird neighbors, funky bars and parties, being slightly less anti-social than usual. Lots of exciting things.
Right. So. I’m not good with feelings. “What?! I don’t believe that for a second!” says no one who knows me. So I’ve developed various methods of coping with these stressors and if you have similar goings on or just want a sarcastic guide to getting through break ups/holidays/family events/life changing moments without ripping your eye lashes out one at a time then read on.
I wrote this to seem less narcissistic just for you.
How to deal with un-dating someone:
Step 1 – Locate heart-wrenching love song.
Step 2 – Apply extreme levels of cynicism.
1. Adele. Any Adele track.
I love Adele. But in these tough and trying times, you just have to take a step back. Whether her lyrics make sense or not, I firmly believe that a correctly timed Adele record has the power to pickle eight month fetuses in despair thick enough to drive them into the arms of hard liquor as soon as they’re born. Imagine a maternity ward full of tiny wrinkly newborns refusing the boob and reaching their stubby little hands desperately into the overworked nurse’s pockets for cigarettes. This isn’t normal, but on Adele it is.
Take your Adele track – I chose ‘Set fire to the rain’ because it is one of the most ridiculous songs of all time – now listen to the words very carefully – or read them, because there’s no audio here.
“But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried
‘Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!
I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When we fell, something died
‘Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time!”
– Set fire to the rain, Adele.
2. Apply extreme cynicism. This is not hard.
You can not physically set fire to rain.
Even as a metaphor for erasing the pain of the past it’s weak as fuck – but for the sake of entertainment lets stick to the literal interpretation. There is no room for a balanced view here, these are desperate times. I’m not sure why she needs to touch their face as she watches her lighter go out in the rain that IS NOT BURNING in front of her. I feel like if I were her partner, this would be a defining moment in our post-relationship communications. I would possibly entertain the idea that she is not coping with this particular change of circumstances and perhaps refer her to some sort of professional.
Is the rain is screaming your ex-lover’s name as it burns? Oh it is? Perhaps you should put down the bath salts before you eat someone’s face.
STOP. Just stop. Adele, come on. Come on now Adele. Adele, Come on. No one thinks this is deep. You’re not rolling in the deep. You’re rolling in the run-out-of-metaphors-for-being-a-hot-mess. That is all.
Congratulations – you can now survive an Adele song. And sometimes, that’s half the battle.
How to deal with your roommate moving out:
If you’re like me and are a self-made, self-confessed, proud as punch loner fine with being alone, you won’t have a problem. Be sad that they’re gone but excited to have the Hermit Skank Pad (Skank pad… nothing to read into there… moving on) all to yourself. If you’re not like me and weirdly need 90% of your time filled with the noise, sweat and stench of regular human contact, read on.
Step 1. CATS. Practice your cat hoarder skills. Collect ’em all. Dress ’em up. Mumble to yourself. Twitch a little. Build the Sydney Harbour Bridge out of hairballs. There is no one to judge you but cats and the occasional pizza delivery guy, and they’ve probably seen worse at my house anyway.
Step 2. Internet. There is nothing it can’t solve. Learn how to do things on YouTube. Watch documentaries on how hotdogs are made, have hideous meat dreams and then become a vegetarian. Watch back to back episodes of Epic Meal Time and shot vodka every time Harley pulls a serial killer face. Watch viral videos and cry about the state of the world.
Step 3. Porn,I mean reality TV,I meantalking to your cat, I mean becoming an internet troll, I mean Wikipedia editor, I mean… blog on a variety of topics to entertain yourself a small audience.
Step 4. Put a bitch spin on nanna hobbies. Eg: cross-stitch cuss words on to cushions or frame your creations and give them to your family for Christmas (Spoilers: Joshua, I hope you like vagina euphemism-themed home decor).
Step 5. Alcohol, 1950’s style. In tea pots. At a tiny table. With egg cups full of caterpillars. With your cat dressed in a bonnet. With you dressed in a bonnet. So you can feel proper when you’re getting properly hammered. Alice in wonderland fo’ life mother fuckers!
Step 6. Exercise. It’s good for you and it relieves stress. Seriously.
Commercial break – Hipster pictures:
Back to our regular programming.
The Dos and Don’ts of awkward ideological clashes with a friend or loved one:
Depending on the level of intensity…
A family member strongly expresses intolerance towards your religion/lack of religion –
Do – respectfully assert your right to believe what you want, agree to disagree and exit the situation.
Don’t – Mock their deity. Don’t talk about imaginary friends. Don’t quote religious texts. Avoid comments on their religious leaders dress sense. Don’t be patronising and avoid sarcasm.
Political differences with a friend –
Do – have an adult discussion involving the calm exchange of ideas.
Don’t – yell “treason!” at the top of your lungs.
Psychotic levels of bigotry from someone close to you –
Do – Call them out on their behavior and try to separate the problematic view from them as a person to minimise blame and facilitate a healthy dialogue on the topic.
Don’t – Call them a ‘redneck’.
And so ends part one. Tune in next week for more fun ‘how to cope’ advice for real life hypothetical situations written for DIY therapy your entertainment.
Next week: Christmas carols ruin lives, Please return your ‘I’m a real adult’ card, Hanging out in Bars Vs the National Geographic Channel, and People who give birth close to Christmas are pricks.