So, it's been a year since I got dumped. Frankly, I would not blame any of you for being at the point of thinking—if not saying—"Why the f**k hasn't this bitch gotten over this yet?" I wonder the same thing myself. The Frisky: The Top 10 Things You Learn When You're Heartbroken
There's that saying that it takes half the length of the relationship to "get over it." If that were the case, I would have another year and four months to go, God help me! But actually, I'm over the heartbreak. There's not one ounce of me that's still physically attracted to him. While I miss the friendship we had, the way he made me laugh, the sweet things he would do, like plate the dinner he made from scratch like we were dining at a fancy restaurant, and the fun we had traveling together, I don't miss him as my boyfriend at all. That feels so amazing, I cannot even tell you. I could do cartwheels! (If I could do cartwheels, that is.) The Frisky: How To Survive The First Week Of A Broken Heart
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Heartbreak, while difficult, is easier to get over than anger. And I have so much anger left. I feel angry at him for breaking my heart, for stringing me along, and for betraying our very deep friendship as well as relationship. I feel angry that he lied to save face, rather than telling the truth so that I could move on sooner. I feel angry that he left me with an at times paralyzing insecurity and doubt in myself and in my chances of ever being loved again. I feel angry that these insecurities have caused me to act like a complete idiot in the romances I've tried out since—I haven't screwed-up anything that had the potential to be significant yet (hopefully!), but it still doesn't feel good to shed insecure tears for dudes you barely know.
Most of all, I feel angry at myself for ignoring the signs and the very real problems that would have made for a terrible marriage. A marriage I was 100 percent ready to commit to, despite those things. What was I thinking? The Frisky: Real Chick Lit: The 30-Day Heartbreak Cure
I've always been the type that once burned does not stop smarting from the sting. There's a small part of me that is still pissed-off at my childhood best friend for seemingly deciding that I wasn't cool enough to be friends with anymore come high school. I remain absolutely livid that my cousin, who was one of my closest friends growing up, cut me out of her life because of a fight between my father and hers—so livid that I've had vivid dreams of cursing her out for her lack of loyalty to our relationship. If you asked me for the short list of people I hate, the ex-boyfriend of a friend from high school—who was a complete a-hole to me at the time—would be on it. A random dude! From high school! Clearly, I do not let go of anger easily and these offenses were far more minuscule than what my ex did.