There are those moments in life that leave you wondering whether or not things are ever going to work out for you.
To be specific, I’m referring to those times you think you’ve found the man of your dreams, Mr. Right. Oh Mr. Right, that guy you will live happily ever after with, doing all of the classic couple things: holding hands, taking trips together, cuddling in bed, and snapping cute photos. But then—out of the blue—he crushes your heart and soul, and while he is at it takes a bulldozer to your self-esteem. We have all been there (no need to deny it); sadly, those guys exist, and their population is multiplying which means that we only have more and more of those heartbreaks to expect.
Before I reveal my ten steps to getting over a heartbreak, little or big, let me indulge you with my own love-life experience. Recently, I allowed myself to fall head-over-heels for this guy—well, not just any guy: the guy. He is intelligent, can rock a man bun, of Italian descent, tattooed, a dog lover and owner, a democrat, and, best of all, taller than 6 feet.Yes, that is right, I said over 6 feet. Of course, being a 6-foot-guy myself, this made him even more appealing. I decided that because this guy was going to be my Mr. Right, I would travel up north to go on a few dates with him and seal the deal. Everything was perfect: I arrived in the Northeast and brought my best outfits with me while simultaneously preparing myself mentally so that I wouldn’t spaz out when we met. As the time for the two of us to meet rolled around, “Mr. Right” stood me up and then tried to lie about it. Which left me wondering if I had done something wrong. I kept thinking to myself that were was something wrong with me. Maybe he didn’t like my hair, or the way I dress, or my personality, but whatever it was he didn’t like it and I felt like crap. Oh, and this led to me being pissed. Well, more than pissed: positively infuriated, hurt, baffled, sad, and annoyed. (Take a second to imagine me—a handsome, caramel-tinted, 6’1” young African American male—in tears ready to eat a carton of ice cream…which I totally would have if I wasn’t lactose intolerant!!!) So here I’m now—lonely, bored, and still upset—but deciding that the best thing to do is to let all who can relate know to FORGET those guys, and take the time to just “treat yo self.”