As you may or may nor have gathered from previous articles, rumors, or nifty mental powers, I have often been the victim of the terrible affliction known to longtime Think readers as "love-cancer".
I am as likely to be out of a serious relationship as I am to be in one, since I am wont to ruin perfectly good courtships. My ex-girlfriends treat me with the same compassion and courtesy as one might expect toward a foul-mouthed disease-ridden leper whose sole hobby is kicking small adorable puppies.
After enduring a series of such disappointing break-ups, it was only natural that I sank into a malaisey depressionish (OK, so these aren't real words. Sue me.) sort of mood; but at the time, I didn't realize I was in such a deep blue funk. For your edification and enlightenment, here are ten warning signs to detect whether or not you are suffering depression after an unsuccessful relationship:
1. Your favorite oldies include:
"Bye, Bye, Love", "Runaway", and "Breaking Up is Hard to Do".
2. Your favorite book is The Sorrows of Young Werther.
3. You repeatedly insist that you're not bitter.
4. You go out of your way to kick unattended infants.
5. You pass up easy opportunities to jump in the pants of available, nubile, young English students.
7. Hermitage is starting to look rather appealing.
8. You start hibernating.
9. You reaffirm in your mind the notion that love does indeed suck the large left testicle of life.
10. You start writing pointless articles about how much love really sucks.
Okay, now that we've all learned to identify the warning sings of the bitter recriminations and melancholy behavioral symptoms of post-love syndrome, or whatever, let us probe more deeply into the actual provess of breaking up and the raging debate over which Vltava bridge you will throw yourself off which immediately follows.
If you're in my general age group, you'll find that statistics which I just now made up indicate that you've probably had at least one heartbreak in your lifetime.
Believe it or not, this is the good news; and I mean "good" in the same sense as "Anthony Weiner was a good husband".
Actual statistics which I didn't make up but easily could have, show that the average person endures three such broken hearts in his life. The problem I have with those statistics is the increasing life span of human beings.
Of course, that line of reasoning is pretty much BS., but it should help to console me the next time I'm picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.
In fact, there are really no reasons to raise spurious arguments and engage in light-hearted banter about love. It sucks, plain and simple. Just thinking about the next two big heartbreaks makes me want to parade around a taxi stand in Smíchov and wave around stacks of 1000Kč bills.
But hey, this subject matter might be viewed as slightly depressing. Let's talk about something bright and cheerful in relation to the topic of love. One of the greatest things about being in love is sharing things with your significant other. Most couples will have favorite songs, foods, or cat torture methods.
The downside of this, however, is that if you should break up, every single time you encounter one of those once-blessed favorite things, you feel like diving for pearls in active volcanoes. And GOD DAMNIT, you want to rip your hair out and club baby seals! *SOB* OOPS, I was trying to avoid being depressing, wasn't I? I'll try harder in the next paragraph.
Let's try tackling a light, happy, carefree subject in order to make up for the downer of an ending in the previous paragraph; something like this: Barney makes small children happy. However, Barney makes me miserable, the cock-smoking son of a b*tch.
Not that I'm bitter. Really, I'm not. Boy, this sure was one of those uplifting happy-go-lucky articles, wasn't it? Sheesh. Somebody shoot me, or something.