I used to share an apartment with a exceedingly emotional girl, (the tears came mostly when she got drunk), when she broke up with her childhood long-term boyfriend. Hysterically suicidal would be underestimating the state of mind she was in after bravely telling her on the phone that their hellish days were O-V-E-R for good this time. (It's always been drama, drama, drama.)
While many around her were quick to cry "bollocks" considering the fact that these two have had more break-ups and make-ups than skeletons in Shane Warne's closet, this time she assured me the break up was for good. And this time I believed her.
Why this time, you may ask? Because that night she brought home a bloke, (yes, he stayed over) and apparently told him that her previous relationship had ended one month before.
"Are you sure it's not too soon?" he had asked her. She assured her one month was not too soon at all ...
Mr Rebound stayed for a few straight nights and after the third day, left to get a change of clothing and his own set of underwear. And that's when she broke down.
"I haven't even had a chance to comprehend my break up," she yelped. "I rushed into something else too soon. I feel empty and alone."
Soon enough, Mr Rebound began coming over more frequently, bringing along with him boxer shorts and a set of rigorous relationship rules. He demanded to meet her folks, hob nob with her friends, accompany her to his work soirees and stringently be introduced as her "boyfriend".
"Argh, he's way too clingy," she complained to me after a string of lovey-dovey texts and hence she began plotting how best to give her the dexterous flick. "He came at the right time that I needed him, and he probably saved my life, but now it's time to give him the boot."
Not wanting to be alone just yet, she quickly discovered another potential date who upon first drink, pressed his mobile number into her phone, text messaged her the very next day, and asked if they could go skiing together next winter.
"Woah! What's up with these guys?" was all she could say.
While the ignominy and waste of her ex-escapades had far escaped her current jubilance, many of you would be left wondering whether moving on so soon is too much too fast.
Fastidious singletons (like my roommate) find that while moving on as quickly as possible enables the swift ability to forget the past, they can get emotionally invested into something new way too soon, (without the opportunity of "finding themselves"), and are worried they'll constantly be comparing their new date to their ex; the way they kiss, dress, eat ... the list goes on.
But for how long can the excuses that run the gamut of, "it's all too much too soon," "let's take things slow", and "I don't know if I'm ready to date again just yet", fly with a new beau? Surely in six months time you can't still be asking them to take things slow?
Which leaves me wondering: is there a mourning period set for grieving over an ex? Should we take the time to mourn the break up, and then forget and move on? How soon is too soon?
Perhaps it's as one friend, who recently experienced a mutual amicable break up with a long-term beau put it to me, "If I'm tempted to be seen out the next night with another guy, I only need to think how I'd feel if I had to spot him doing the same thing. I would literally die."
Perhaps it's as Jennifer Aniston told Oprah after seeing photographs of Brad Pitt frolicking about on holiday with Angelina Jolie a little too soon after the split: "I think he's missing the sensitivity chip"...
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