MINI MUSICAL GUIDE TO GETTING OVER A BROKEN HEART? (ALLEGEDLY;) by Fizzfan

The following writing and music was contributed by regular writer Fizzfan from the United Kingdom. 

Set a limit to the number of toilet rolls you can blow your nose on while weeping. One for every year you've been together should be more than enough, and stick to it. 

If you're tempted to cheat and use soft tissues to make your nose less sore and crusty, this is not acceptable as it will only encourage more weeping, and discomfort and vanity are strong deterrents that can be used to good effect in your quest to stop blubbing.

Buy an A4 pad and write down all his faults. These can range from licking his plate in restaurants, to wearing his socks until they crack. If you run out of paper (don't worry this is normal) just reread what you've written and consider the merits of buying another pad, or possibly reassessing just how broken hearted you really should be?

Leave one sheet of your A4 pad to list his good qualities. If you run out of space, (this isn't normal) you're delusional enough to start toying with a glorious revenge plan, which is much easier than trying to think of any more nice things, and far more fun. This will also flood the pleasure receptors in your brain and have those tears of yearning turn to twinkles of evil glee before you know it.

If your revenge plan is likely to get you locked up, read your Fault List again and ask yourself if it's really worth it. Chances are you'll decide it still is, but have a cream bun and focus on the likelihood of sweet treat rations in high security isolation wards probably being as rare as a man hoovering. 

Which brings me nicely on to just how much less mess you'll now have to clear up. His toilet trashing, towel hanging hang ups, empty loo roll lapses, muddy boot bonanzas, bread crumb blindness and dust level delusions will all be a thing of the past. 

All this extra time you'll have due to not arguing about housework, can now be devoted to self improvement, self indulgence, or self loathing. It's your choice, but if you opt for self loathing, make a video of yourself sobbing and snorting in self pity and watch it back to see how attractive you look and sound. This might prompt you into a bit of self discovery and make you far keener on opting for self improvement or at the very least self indulgence.

This being the case, cream buns can be extended to treacle toffee pudding or even death by chocolate cake, just don't take it too literally. Alcohol of any kind will enhance your self indulgent binge no end, but if you get down to the sherry bottle and are torn between knocking it back or saving it to make Aunt Tillys Christmas trifle, do the right thing........I'm sure she'll understand.

Having gorged yourself into a coma and or hangover (or as I like to call it a Comaover) you may feel like weeping again, and I highly recommend ramping up the experience by seeking out some rogue clothing he's left under the bed to inhale his god like musky molecules. Hopefully it'll be a sock that's hardened into a piece of old cheese that will jolt you out of your pathetic pining, but if it's a t-shirt fragrant with his favourite aftershave or just has that special him smell, don't worry, this is an ideal opportunity to use the one cheat you're allowed in my plan and go ahead and blow your nose on it.     

                                        

Purged of his personal artefacts that you'll ever want to sob over or into again, you can now turn your attention to your treasure tin containing all those precious little gifts and love notes he sent you. This is a tricky dilemma because if they were gorgeous and clever and witty or indeed valuable, you may want to keep them, because remember you did inspire him to write them. As for any valuables, well you can get a good price for melted gold and or precious stones, and if he has by some miracle managed to nail your taste by giving you something you actually like, think of it as an heirloom you can pass on to the children of your future husband. This may sound outrageous right now, but trust me in 50 years time it's value will far outweigh its history and no one will care. 

Moving on to a future boyfriend or husband, which of course is impossible to imagine right now, were it not for the fact that you just can't stop imagining it.......

This is the ideal time to dilute your broken hearted misery, by signing up to a keep fit club so you can cry over the disgusting state of your body instead. The benefits will not be immediate as this additional humiliation may make you feel suicidal, but hang on in there, and the pain of your aching heart will quickly be replaced by that of your aching muscles, and you'll have a much better chance of bagging a new man the longer you stick at it. 

So having passed the half way mark and embraced your living hell of aloneness by accepting you simply must make an effort not to be, your mind may turn to a new pair of shoes and or a top. This will involve a hideous mooch round the shops and you may well be harbouring a very real dread of bumping into anyone you know, or indeed him. 

This is perfectly normal, but the longer you leave it the more shoe sales you'll miss, so ring a friend for moral support and get to it. Of course if you have no friends because you dropped them all in favour of him, you might feel the need to go a bit incognito. 

If it's summer, dark glasses and a very large brimmed floppy hat are perfectly acceptable, however in winter, sun glasses will never do teamed up with a woolly bobble hat, so you may want to consider a burka, balaclava, or crash helmet (Amazon do loads online) However, you'll probably be high on sugar or hungover enough (but lets face it probably both) not to care, and have quite a few stress spots to help in your disguise, which will thankfully deter anyone from wanting to speak to you anyway.

Once you're out and about, even if you've been brazen enough to go for a crash helmet free look and been blessed with a spotless complexion, you will still feel like you have a sign over your head saying Just Dumped Because I'm Worthless. 

It isn't imaginary, and everyone does of course know this due to your ridiculous rants on Facebook after polishing off Aunt Tilly's trifle sherry, but those who don't avoid you like a dose of Small Pox for fear of knowing who he'sseeing now, and or how pathetic you are, will possibly be real friends and it's a good Litmus Test for sorting out future liaisons. They may also have some dishy male friends or brothers and be riddled with sympathy to the point of asking you to their next house party.

So having bagged yourself an invite to what could be the answer to your dream come true meeting with the future love of your life, you will be feeling almost euphoric, which is just the right time to kiss your new bezzy mates goodbye, trot round the corner and bump into him.  Yes, he will be smiling and gorgeous and of course he will be arm in arm with a new her.  

I did mention crash helmets, balaclavas or burkas, so you only have yourself to blame. You will now need to get home asap because having watched that video of yourself in your self loathing phase, you'll be very keen not to scatter the public with a repeat performance outside TopShop or indeed on the bus. 

I suggest a taxi because the drivers are used to delirious women and will probably just turn the music up to drown out your agonised snorts and stifled snuffles. 

You may get a sympathetic ear for 2 minutes, but be warned it will turn into a 'I can top that just listen to my tale of woe', so try and remain stoic by focusing on the nine times table, or how many bottoms you have to go with your new shoes n top until you get home. 

Once safely there, you can fall into a stupendous sobbing session made far worse by your earlier decision to throw away all his artefacts that you now want to inhale or rip to shreds. 

In their absence why not pop on some really depressing music and if the two of you had aspecial song, all the better. Put it on repeat and wallow in agonised memories of sublime happiness, topped only by how much you now want to find out who she is. Magnifying her every physical defect and convincing yourself that her bland prettiness will just be making up for her penchant for saying Babes a lot and being as annoying as a gnat will help. Unfortunately Facebook has yet to conquer scorched memory recognition into their arsenal of making acquaintances, so you'll just have to rely on 'someone will be almost spontaneously combusting to tell you' syndrome, and trust me, this won't take long.

Recovering from the Mother of all Comaovers and having accepted that killing yourself to blight their happiness with guilt would unfortunately involve you dying, you are now at the perfect turning point to start refocusing on those new shoes and or top, and the fact that you have a party to go to. Besides which, your toilet rolls are running perilously low, and you need to get a grip!  

            

HERES MY PERSONAL FAVOURITE                             

If you don't want to look like a hay fever sufferer who's run into a exploding bag of pollen, stick some cucumber on your eyes and a dollop of E45 cream on your tomato like nose, and lay back and listen to a self help tape about  'Success Being The Greatest Revenge',  or better still  'Whatever Doesn't Kill You Had Better Start Running'. 

Buoyed up on bullshit and feeling like a cross between Boudicca, and Beyoncé belting out 'All The Single Ladies', you can now start the long painstaking process of getting ready toPartay!

So YOU HAVE SURVIVED. There is no pain or humiliation left to conquer. You are Ready To Rumble, and hell bent on making the most of your Single And About To Mingle status. 

The day long preparation beginning with your keep fit class, topped off with your tastefully low key fake tan, followed by four hours of batheing, grooming, preening and primping have left you feeling like a butterfly emerging from a putrid old grub. You even splashed out on an awesome pair of skin tight black jeans to go with your shoes n top, and as you stare back at your reflection in the mirror you actually feel pretty damn good. 

While you wait for your taxi, (hoping it's a different driver from the one who rescued from your mortifying sob fest) you just have enough time to stick on 'Its Raining Men' and smile in anticipation of the great night to come. There's a beep outside and you grab your bag to go.......

You've made it through girl, you're amazing and it's the start of 'Things Can Only Get Better!'            

YEAH!!!                                                                

    

Just DO NOT pick up that phone as you walk out the door.......!