The Hobo Guide to Breaking Up

The Hobo Guide to Breaking Up

There are few good things about a break-up. Unfortunately for me, I managed to time the end of my relationship with the end of a visa, which on a painful level was like being slapped in the face with a fish and kicked in the shin by a donkey. Combined with killer jet lag and a general lack of enthusiasm for everything, this has meant that I’ve spent a lot of time recently questioning my life choices whilst weeping over the cost of an avocado in the fruit and veg aisle of Coles. There’s also been a lot of deep-throating packets of Tim-Tams, and I’ve put on roughly three extra kilos of wine weight.

During this time, I’ve done what any privileged Gen Y kid would do in this situation: powered up my MacBook in a café manned by a bearded barista and Googled how to fix my life. But, instead of finding the same kind of empowerment Julia Roberts found in Bali, all I found was a bunch of bullshit articles that had me throwing my chai semi-skimmed organic orange blossom latte all over the floor. I decided the only thing to do in this scenario was to dispute some of the bullshit myths offered to me as a modern woman dealing with a break-up.

Myth 1: Exercise
Why this is bullshit:
Sure, exercise releases endorphins and going out running will have you rocking that post-break up bod in no time, but it also requires the release of energy, and that energy would be better spent walking to your local winery to stock up on a couple of bottles of Cleanskin. It’s still exercise, just with an alcoholic reward at the end of it. Also, I’m an awful runner; stop telling me to do the one thing I hate during a time of my life that I hate.

Myth 2: Take Baths
Why this is bullshit:
I don’t understand why so many people are suggesting that wallowing in a stagnant body of lavender-flavoured water will make me feel better. If anything, it’s going to remind me of the sexual connotations that baths hold for me and my ex-lover. Please, stop suggesting tepid water and some candles; a better solution would be a long salty dunk in the ocean, followed up by a sting from a bluebottle, just to really put that heartache in perspective.

Myth 3: Meditate, Don’t Medicate
Why this is bullshit:
Finding bliss while sitting cross-legged listening to dolphins fornicate is only going to make me start thinking of other things. Like what I used to do with my best friend to whom I no longer speak. Instead, I support medicating oneself with wine and whisky, which will make each day glow around the edges as if you were viewing life through your very own Clarendon filter.

Myth 4: Eat well
Why this is bullshit:
Few times in life do you get a hall pass to live on a diet of chocolate, two-day old wine, melted ice-cream and full-fat milkshakes. Suggesting that I swap all of this for green juices and brown rice makes me want to kick a toddler. Being allowed to eat all the saturated fats and glucose sugars that I want with no repercussions is one of the few good things about dying alone. Leave me with my chocolate-stained fingers and too-tight pants.


It seems most articles that I came across were trying to offer healthy solutions, however, the one-size-fits-all advice that I found online involving baths, exercise and mindfulness have in no way soothed the roundhouse kick to the face that is my current situation. So just in case you’re also spending your evenings scouring the web for enlightenment whilst fisting handfuls of Clinkers, I suggest putting the laptop away and trying litres of wine, naps, ocean swims and a solid diet of Allen’s lollies. And if all else fails, a few hours spent watching Magic Mike XXL doesn’t hurt either.

Cover by Bart Scholliers

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