Fri Oct 21 15:12:06 SAST 2016

Don't go letting your heart break

By unknown | Jul 21, 2008 | COMMENTS [ 0 ]

A very dear friend got dumped recently and he made it look terminal. Shame, his amber eyes were drenched in so much sadness. Why is it that gorgeous people make melancholy look so dire? Ever spared a thought for how we catch TB when the pageant types catch flu in our circles?

In any event my friend is sinking deeper into depression and that's all because of a girl who has no waistline. She's not even that pretty and he makes it sound like the sun has set forever. She has him by the balls even though she doesn't really have much use for them.

He showed his cried-out face just as I was getting ready to go out. As we hugged, Benjamin Dube with his persuasive voice was screeching In every, every thing, give thanks. Great, now I was going to have to baby him like I've been baby-sat myself and been grateful. And either role sucks.

So my friend sat for advice and of course some free beer. Before I gave him an earful about why he shouldn't spoil my day by moping in my house, I had to sympathise.

When a heart breaks and starts trickling out clots of purple blood poisoned by love, nothing makes sense any more. Ask a girl who's been there.

"I remember when I had mine kicked in the butt. I cried so much that every red robot became a friend. It gave me a long-awaited chance to sob so deliciously I'd forget to drive. So one time my car stopped in the middle of the road. Other drivers gave me tissues instead of the finger. I soaked up so much of that attention I wanted to make it a lifestyle," I related to him.

What I forgot to mention was that I also slowly got so used to the new comfort of pity that I completely forgot about how I ever felt before the storm that left me engulfed in nothingness.

"Maybe you've never loved someone like I love Cassandra," he pulled out of his swelling throat.

"You sound like an old tired song," I revealed to the rock he had since become. I wanted to kill that Cassandra bitch. What point was she trying to prove running away from a perfect gentleman like him?

Okay maybe he wasn't so gentle and he may very well have been our version of Shrek but still, he is impeccable in relationships. And in this spirit, and after a few cold ones, I went to have a word with her.

"Have you ever dated him?" asked a puzzled Cassandra behind a cloud of her cigarette smoke. That's when she let it all hang loose. Apparently my dear friend is too doting. "Ever heard the song Love Me Gently? Well he listens to it non-stop and yet insists on sharing the very breath I take. If I turned to the other side from him, I'd find him already there, you know what I mean? He keeps me updated on his little errands like we are married and bored and, I mean, I have things to do, you know. I have a life to live and he doesn't get it."

I had to sigh. I know in most cases they say it takes two to tango but in that situation I had to draw deep. I love him with all my heart but "you've got to give a little, take a little and let her poor heart break a little; that's the story of, that's the glory of, love".

And like Cassandra's eyes did waterworks, now more than ever I'm convinced that she is hurting too. It still sounds like an old tired script but breaking up is never a walk in the park, even for a chap who left a note saying: "Sorry, had to run, ain't ready for no baby, check you after five years." Things could not have been easy. But for his baby mama, rock bottom had nails and broken bottles waiting for her bum.

But when I was sitting on a shrink's couch all I wanted was for her to send a hitman to get his ass.

So while my heart bleeds for my amber-eyed friend and Isidingo's Nandipha, all I can tell them is: In every, every thing, give thanks. It's as lame as telling them "this too shall pass", I know.

I suppose that because people don't have real profound words of comfort, they can only quote from the Bible because they don't have natural empathy for other people's troubles. It tells you just how much you can rely on humans.

So if you allow me to speak from the heart I would say: Get a grip, you're not the only ones hurting. I know, I thank my lucky stars for all the guys who shot me in the heart and danced on my blood. And I know they also celebrate the fact I didn't run my SUV over their new girlfriend's stupid faces.

In every, every thing, give thanks.


Login OR Join up TO COMMENT