Now, you’re saying, Internet, because you are not only devastatingly handsome but ALSO witty and brilliant, which hardly seems fair, Aunt Becky, you haven’t had a good breakup in years. And you’d be right.
You see, I’ve been suffering in silence, my friends in the computer, not wanting to spill my pain onto your pixilated screen until I was ready to fully admit the truth to myself. Always the hardest to admit these things to yourself.
But it’s time. Brace yourselves.
I, (deep breath) have broken up with my old friend, my old BEST friend, my standby delicious zero-calorie nectar of the gods soft drink, Diet Coke.
I know. I KNOW.
Be still my heart, for it still flippity-flops in my chest so when I think of it.
While The Daver performs a merry victory dance on the grave of our failed relationship I am stuck screaming at the universe, flailing my hands at the heavens screaming “WHY GOD?” at the sky to no avail. No one hears my cries. No one responds.
And I am alone. Utterly alone.
Surrounded by my three children, loving (disease-man-cold-ridden) husband, two dogs, two cats, bunny and 57 orchids yet completely alone. I cry.
My heart is black. Like my coffee. (except my coffee has skim milk and equal. well, fake equal, but black sounded better, like more dramatic and stuff)
And I am alone. Heartbroken.
So good-bye, sweet friend. I will always, always *sniff* love you. I am so, so sorry that the wretched beast Topamax has come between us, making your sweet caramel colored deliciousness taste remarkably like battery acid.
Now go, JUST GO. GO BE WITH SOME OTHER WOMAN (or sassy man) WHO WILL LOVE, HONOR AND CHERISH YOU like I am no longer able to.
1) Elvis, “Always On My Mind.”
Now, my parents let me teethe on “The Wall” and The Dead, so it goes without saying that we rarely listened to Elvis in my household growing up. But once I heard him on the oldies station, I was hooked. The first trip that The Daver and I took was down to Memphis, actually, and we fully intend to go back with the crotch parasites once they’re old enough to not make us insane in the car.
When he sings, “Maybe I didn’t love you quite as often as I could have,” I get shivers and then he crescendos into “You were always on my mind” and the tears start. They never really erupt into full-blown sobs, but the lump in my throat persists.
Because who hasn’t taken someone they love for granted?
(mental note: tell The Daver I love him)
Hey, The Daver, I love you.
2) Elvis Costello, “Good Year For The Roses.”
I never really got into Elvis Costello when all of the emo kids did, probably because I was never really emo. Although, under the spell of some particularly strong dilating solution, I did pick out–and woefully purchase–some emo glasses. The other group of people who were into Mr. Costello were the Really Smart People; a club that I am clearly not a member of.
I don’t remember the first time I heard it, but I remember feeling like the air had been sucked out of the room when he sang, “But at least you thought you wanted it, that’s so much more than I can say for me.”
If you’ve ever been in a committed relationship where someone else broke that commitment (one way or another) those simple looking words, really just drive that home. The song is heartbreaking, if you’ve been there, or if you imagine you’ve been there, and it’s worth a download or a listen.
ALSO, if you have roses? You can do like I do and casually remark to your spouse, “Hey, it’s a good year for the roses.” And then snicker.
I am a very Simple Person.
3) The Cure, “Pictures of You.”
Say what you will about the goths, but they certainly know how to feel things (wait, isn’t that a staple of the emo kids too? WAIT, ARE THE EMO KIDS AND GOTH KIDS THE SAME? I am so confused)(and obviously ill-informed) and no one knows how to feel things and sing about them then Robert Smith of The Cure.
Well before you had Twilight, you had this, “You were stone white, so delicate, lost in the cold, you were always so lost in the dark,” and you just knew he meant it. It even made someone as un-goth as me kind of yearn to shop at Hot Topic.
For a second.
But the song is haunting and it’s true and it’s absolutely a great breakup song.
4) Guns ‘n’ Roses “November Rain.”
Now it will either come as a dreadful shock or explain EVERYTHING when I share with you that most of my dearest friends are metal heads. Hair metal, especially the more commercial stuff, is the stuff I cut my proverbial milk teeth on and listening to it is like being transported back to high school.
While I never had big hair (I am a child of the 90’s), and the 80’s were something that saw me in grades measured in the single digits, in high school, we listened to hair metal like we’d discovered it ourselves. Which, we had. I even moonlighted occasionally on my friend Scottie’s metal radio show–Midnight Metal Madness.
I do feel I must tell you that I never actually listened to November Rain while mourning a break-up, but knowing that I could have is good enough for me. In fact, what I did sob post-break up while listening to were both Don’t Cry 1 AND Don’t Cry 2, but November Rain has such a fucking awesome guitar solo (marry me, Slash?) that I cannot ignore it.
5) Damien Rice, “Delicate”
This song is pretty much the opposite of hair metal in every way you can imagine: it’s like a guy in a coffee house singing the hell out a song and it’s good because you know he means the shit out of it. He’s kind of Jeff Buckley-ish but Irish. And, um, alive.
I think this song is probably best to listen to if you’re feeling especially duped by someone. Toward the end he climaxes (cue Bevis-like laughter) with this:
“And why’d you fill my sorrows
With the words you’ve borrowed
From the only place that you’ve known
Why’d you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you”
And it’s perfect.
It’s worth a listen.
Your turn, Internet. Breakup songs. I want your favorites.
Be sure to cast your vote for your favorite entry in “Aunt Becky Travels The World And Does Stuff.”
Voting ends on the 15th of September.