The most violent thing I’ve ever done in the wake of rejection, is smash a couple of chocolate bars into my face in two seconds, drink a barrel of wine and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s; and cry myself to sleep so I look like I’ve gone ten rounds with Conor McGregor, the next morning. I’ve instructed a hairdresser to chop off an inch or give me a fringe. Radical. Maybe, worst of all, stayed in bed for a couple of days without having a shower.  (Oh, and once I did destroy a wooden bread bin with a hammer in the back garden. That felt gooood.)   More recently however, and less dramatically, I have been decorating my outside space and cultivating a couple of window boxes, while bingeing podcasts.

In the space of the last two weeks, we have seen in the international news: a fatal van attack in Canada by a self-proclaimed *’Incel‘ obsessed with rejection by women, and the arrest of the Golden State Killer suspect, whose crimes ‘may have been fueled by break up with a woman named Bonnie’.  Now, call me old-fashioned, but these reactions seem a little extreme.  I’d hazard a guess that most of us have experienced a broken heart at some point in our lives, and I’d hazard another one – that the first time is always the worst and after that you kind of just deal with it because you know it’ll pass.

*Incel – “involuntarily celibate”, a person (usually male) who has a horrible personality and treats women like sexual objects and thinks his lack of a sex life comes from being ‘ugly’ when its really just is blatant sexism and terrible attitude. Incels have little to no self awareness; even when they see other “ugly” men with girlfriends, they consider these men to be tricksters who have somehow beaten the system.  Wow.  See full definition here care of Urban Dictionary……… Again: WOW.

Guys.  Listen up.  There are other ways to deal with this stuff…… Case in point, let’s take a look at my break-up/rejection history, below:

First love 1990 – lay on sofa for a week, didn’t go to college
(body count 0)

Divorce 2000 – lay on sofa for three days, was a drunken liability on nights out for about three months
(body count 0)

Several non-starters in the UK – nada, went to work as normal
(body count 0)

A couple of ghostings (one before ghosting was even a thing) – nada, went to work as normal
(body count 0)

Live-in partner 2011 (made redundant same day) – went to bed for two days, drank two bottles of cava while watching the wedding of Wills and Kate with the Mirror wedding pull-out special. Worked my notice, retrained as a teacher and moved to Barcelona
(body count 0)

Traded in for younger model, by short, fat ten-years-older-than-me-tango-teacher-short-term lover 2013 – cried fiery humiliation tears, then did a little happy jig
(body count 0)

Several non-starters in the BCN – little rant, went to work as normal
(body count 0)

Barcelona love 2017 – drank a barrel of red wine and cried myself to sleep so I looked like I went ten rounds with Conor McGregor, the next morning.  Got up, packed boxes, made repairs, re-painted and cleaned the flat and moved to my current place.  Currently seeing a therapist
(body count 0)

Two good dates with decent chaps this last month – nada, went to work as normal, got excited when my flower seeds sprouted.
(body count 0)

Firstly: can we just take a moment to mourn my romantic life _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ OK, that’s enough.

There are things you can do guys! There really are. Go for a run, buy a puppy (unless your history started by torturing and killing small animals of course), take up a class. How about keeping a journal? That’s nice, right? In years to come you can look back on it and think to yourself, ‘well, will you look at that. I can’t believe I felt that bad back then, when I look at myself now.’ Take a break. Go on holiday, or an ‘I must not be all murdery and kill lots of people two week yoga and meditation retreat’. I’m sure those exist. Chaps, if it comes to it (no pun intended) stay in and masturbate yourselves blind. Even that’s got to be a better solution, at least you’re the only one incapacitated in that scenario.

What is it about men and rejection and ‘respect’? When someone doesn’t agree with your feeling that they’re obligated to be in a relationship with you, it isn’t disrespect. It’s life.

Ok, I will give you the rejection bit. It’s shit, that I can’t argue with, at all. But when does it cross someone’s mind to commit mass murder as a means to ‘get even’? The worst I’ve said after a rejection and a two day mourning period on the sofa is, ‘I could murder a curry.’

So, based on my recent spate of unsuccessful dates, in so much as they were lovely guys but it didn’t develop into anything and based on my most recent hobby; it won’t be long before I’ll have to hack my way through a jungle of house plants with a machete just to get on with my everyday life. But on the whole, all things considered – I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.