Mr. Heartbreak Breakup

Carrie – The curse of having a great memory is having to disassociate every moment you’ve ever shared with him. 

The latest memory that sent me into tears was mini donuts. Yes my friends mentioned mini donuts, a great joy in people’s lives and diets, but a bitter sweet reminder of our first date when we lined up in front of the “hot and fresh” carnival donut stand.

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yes, this made me cry recently

The saddest part of having a formal relationship is knowing that the transition never really involves after-the-fact friendship. Maybe ex-sex or the occasional run-in. But rare to have true friendship if you didn’t start off with it. Continue reading “Mr. Heartbreak Breakup”

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Recycled Love

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It’s Saturday night and I’ve decided to stay put in my sweats while watching Sex and the City reruns. The thing is, I’m pretty content with my night and lately I’ve found the need for solitude more and more appealing.

Recently, I found myself face to face with a thing of the past, more specificaly, a man from my past. Its your typical ex story, with the grand over the top breakup, the draining back and forths, and the endless supply of tears and drama. Unfortunately for me, this has been going on for just over a year, 14 months to be exact. Its that terrible cycle, you know, the familiar one. You cut the communication and decide it’s best to go cold turkey, and then its a text message on your birthday or a congratulations on graduating then sets this awful cycle in motion again. And every time you convince yourself it’s “different” and you’re both more mature this time around. And every time you actually believe the crap you say to justify your “connection”. But when is enough really enough? How far will we go to recycle old boyfriends? Should a relationship that ends really stay finalized, or should there be an open door for making something new out of something old?

I wish I had these answers. You can ask as many girlfriends as you choose to for these answers but you know you’ll wind up getting the same one from them all. The thing is, you can ask anyone whose opinion you value what to do, but I’ve found in my case it really doesn’t make any difference. All that matters is the way you feel and while that may seem obvious to most, how often do we really stay true to our own feelings and desires? Who is anyone else to tell you what to feel or who to talk to or who not to talk to for that matter? What I’m trying to say is that I think it’s alright not to know the right answers or which decision to make when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, isn’t the whole point of love to experience this epic highs and lows which make up our perception of the whole concept?

So how do you know when to call it quits for good or to give it another shot in the pursuit of love? Well you sure as hell shouldn’t ask me, I’m still finding that out.

Mr. Slide Into My DMs

Carrie – For the first time in a really long time, when I stepped out of the shower that morning, an overwhelming sensation of gratitude washed over me. Perhaps I had been in a particularly good mood having finished my summer courses and finally enjoying what was left of my summer. Maybe it was the reminiscent effect of some weed I’d had the night before. Whatever the case, I was appreciative of the simple things: the sweet aroma of my shampoo, the soft towel grazing against freshly cleaned skin, and the sensation of my plush memory-foam bath mat under my foot as I gingerly step out of the shower.

Then in some weird sort of memory association, I remembered the history of said bath-mat. It wasn’t particularly sentimental, being a cheap Costco purchase two years ago. However, I recall enthusiastically snapping videos of the memory foam in action to Mr. Puppy Love who often experienced my obsession with all-things-fuzzy. The mat has also gotten me through darker moments: supporting me (and friends) as we hung around the toilet the morning after a night of binge drinking and comforting me when I pathetically cried after Mr. Mindfuckboy left my house that fateful winter night.

If you haven’t read up on my saga with Mr. Mindfuckboy, I’ll spare you your life and give you the Sparks notes here: this guy’s favourite movie is The Notebook. If that wasn’t indication enough (as I was too infatuated to see at the time), it is exactly the type of tortured romance he’s looking for in his life. He wanted me to be his Allie, the girl he couldn’t be with right away, but she was his soul mate and they’d eventually end up together when the time was ‘right’. Too bad the ‘right’ time in the movie was also the most-complicated scenario/worst-timing right when she was happy and about to get married. But that was the love he wanted. Mr. Mindfuckboy made everything fifteen times more complicated than it should have been. When I gave him the opportunity to be with me, he chose to cower, ignoring my phone calls but writing me a fucking poem about how I’m better off without him. Later that evening, I sent him a ‘break-up’ text telling him to never contact me again and delete me from his life.

So lo and behold my dismay when, I kid you not, TWELVE MONTHS LATER (that’s a whole year later ladies and gents) I get hit up with a follow on Instagram from Mr. Mindfuckboy, who I will now term Mr. (Slide Into My) DM.

Continue reading “Mr. Slide Into My DMs”