Is it over? Go on a 'solo' holiday (and study ‘The Rules’)


Date when I should be on holiday with my ex-boyfriend, Pietro, 10:39

Great. I’ve lost my phone. My favourite bra broke and that flea-ridden, miserable, tiny monster that is my neighbour’s dog just bit me. Perhaps I should just lock myself in the house. But no, I won’t give in to superstition. In fact, I'm about to leave for my 'solo' holiday.

18:45
Thank God, I made it to the sea. No more catastrophes happened so far. The beach is basically empty, only the sweet rustle of the waves is breaking the silence and the sun is softly dying. I’m on holiday, hurray! Now I have something like seven or eight days to pull myself together, empower my self-esteem, decide how to spend the rest of my time off and, above all, whatever I choose to do, which spirit will affect my mood. I ‘m lucky, because I know it already: the spirit of a ‘Rules-Girl’.
I came across to this revealing best-seller by Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider ­– a little dated maybe, but always efficacious: The Complete Book of Rules: Time tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr Right.
And it’s just thanks to The Rules that I’m back on track. I will now focus goals and priorities; I’ll canalise my energy; I will settle down. Actually, I’ll do way more that: I won’t give a damn.
How should I deal with the only device likely to blow up my sanity – the phone? Should I adopt a drastic approach and turn it off completely, or a softer one, which entails receiving incoming texts and calls and react with maturity to their content (or their absence?).
I know: I will leave it on my bed-side cabinet and I’ll go out for a good, healthy cycle.
I am so good, so strong.
The man I had by my side was not the right one for me, I’m more and more convinced.
Go, Donna, go! There’s plenty to do out there!
I’m going now.

19:00
I think at the moment I’ll stay in. The thing is, I fell cosy in the seaside family house. It’s very simple, even frugal: second-hand furniture and that kind of ‘love or hate’ china style that was popular in the Seventies. I like my vintage brown coffee cup: the line of its handle reminds me of cursive writing. One of the first things I make sure I do whenever I come here is, I put the coffee on and reach for my brown cup.
Anyway: I was talking about The Rules, the illuminating book that explains how to deal with men. Now, this is the instruction manual we were never provided with. Basically what it says is –and this is the thing that really struck me- all you have to do to capture that elusive Mr Right is concentrating on living your own life. Do your own things, keep busy. He’s the one who needs to come after you, not the other way around. It is not necessary –nor advisable- to plan your life around him.
A ‘Rules-girl’ is always on the go, because she has many interests and hobbies. She’s got her job, the gym, her friends, her house, her books and the shopping.
The basic rules for Phase No. 1 (the courtship) are

  1.  (Almost) never call him
  2.   You must end phone-calls (not him)
  3.   Don’t try to hook him up. Don’t address him first. Needless to say, don’t be the first to ask him out.
  4.  Don’t stare at him (so, just to be perfectly clear, both abstinence-driven looks and fatal bird-of-prey glances are ruled out).
Then, when Phase 2 begins– the actual dating (which in time-terms means the first weeks or, if you have come to master ‘The Rules’, the first months):

  1.      Do not accept last-minute invitations. If he wants to go out with you, he needs to plan ahead. You’re not there, thumbs-(..) waiting for him. There are deadlines: he wants to go out with you on Saturday? He needs to ask you by Wednesday. After that, you might be already ‘booked’.
  2.       Make sure that your first date doesn’t last for longer than two/three hours. Keep it short and gradually extend duration at the next dates.
  3.           Do not sleep with him too early (hard one, I know).
  4.        Do not reveal your weaknesses (what am I, dumb?)
  5.        Do not talk too much. You don’t have to fill in silence. Leave him to worry about that.
  6.       Never, ever talk about marriage and children. Indirect references to that friend of yours who is about to get married are forbidden too; yes, also Level 2 indirect references (‘my friend’s friend).
Remember –say The rules, men like challenges: he must come to see you like one who is difficult to access and conquer. Do not slam the door open for him nor offer him shortcuts: he will soon lose interest.
Very well, all I have to do now is practicing The Rules, in the hope that Mr Right pays me a visit at some point. 


I'll get over it?!


10:20 am

I haven’t slept much. Pretty normal: after all, when you end a relationship, you kind of get disorientated when you realise that some of your habits, the ones that you had established with your partner, will change. Or will no longer be there. It’s not only Love to come to an end, but also many little things that you might have taken for granted, such as sharing a car, having breakfast together or going to the cinema on a specific day of the week. All of a sudden, that piece of lifestyle that had the power of making us feel good, joyful or confident, is no longer available. In its place, a destabilizing feeling, so deeply annoying that we start to doubt – even when we already know the answer- our decision to end the relationship. Like me now: I faced him, I talked to him, I communicated my decision, supported by rational evidence; and shortly after that, I started to freak out and I don’t even know exactly why.
But I won’t desist: I will be faithful to my instinct and go with my gut. So, let’s make some space to positive-thinking, creativity and elation. I will be the workshop of myself. It will be such a party.

14:30
Such a lousy weather.

16:30
I’m so rundown. In pieces. Depressed, to say the least. I’m useless. I miss him, and there’s not much I can do about it.

17:30
Or maybe there is: I could text him.

17:33
No. Come on, I’d be a real b*tch: first I declare I’m not ready for a relationship, and then I tease him? No. Stop f**king around with that phone, Donna. Get a grip.

17:34
Tell you what: I will only compose the message without sending it. Just to see what it would look like. “I’m so sad, really missing you. I don’t expect a reply from you…”.
No, wait: this way he will understand that I totally want him to reply.
“…I don’t want you to reply”.
No, this would give him the impression that I don’t want him to talk to me at all.
“…you don’t have to reply. I only want you to know”.
Humph, this is just so wrong!

17:45
“I think of you 100 times a minute. I miss you. Being apart is difficult and painful. Maybe texting you is wrong, but this is torture. I have a lump on my thr”.
No more space available.
Shall I hit the ‘send’ button? Will he think that I’m unstable? Well, what difference would it make?

17:46
Sent

17:47
He hasn’t replied

17:48
He’s not calling

17:49
Maybe he hasn’t read it

17:50
Maybe he hasn’t received it

17:51
Maybe my phone doesn’t work very well

18:30
Oh my God! It’s flashing! A text! A text from him!

“Nothing wrong in texting me. I’m sad too. I’ll get over it”.

What the hell? ‘GET OVER IT’?!
This is totally unexpected. Where are the desperate attempts to win me back? The imploring prayers? The changes he’s willing to undergo to save our love? I mean he’s supposed to send me flowers, or at least Neapolitan babĂ , or…I don’t know, playing Nino D’Angelo's or Gigi D’Alessio's sloppy songs!
I am honestly appalled.
Totally unacceptable behaviour.
What if he gets too over it?
What if he finds comfort in a busty, blonde, beanpole, which he can totally pick up because he’s so good-looking?

19:30, at work
I am sweeping the outdoor area of the pub, when I hear a car tooting. It’s him. Why is he not stopping? Maybe he will go around the block and he’ll come back?

19:34
Clearly that wasn’t the case.

19:35
What shall I do? I feel like calling him, just to say ‘hi’.

19:36
No, I can’t. That would be completely out of order.
For Christ’s sake, where is that confidence I had? My fulfilment in being lonely, the bad-ass attitude and the right dose of feminism which provided the platform from which to shout the axiom "relationship = jail"?
Did I make a mistake or do I just have to get used to the idea?
He’s really not the right man for me? Says who?
Very confused.

20:47
Oh My God.
He’s just got into the pub.
He’s waving at a girl who’s already sat. Who’s she?
He’s sitting at her table.
Now they’re drinking together. They’re chatting away.
Not that she’s a ‘wow’, you know. Pretty dull, if you ask me.
Ha! Now he’s standing up. He’s heading towards the door. He’s left her by herself. Ha!
Yes, but he’s also left me without the chance of talking to him.

3:36 am, at home
I’m so tempted to text him, but luckily I don’t have any credit.
“Tonight at the pub I saw someone who made my heart race”.
What an absolute idiot I am. 


A new order?

At work, 20:30

I broke up with Pietro, the bloke I had been dating for three months.
For some strange reason, which I’m still trying to grasp, I feel bad. And guilty.
As soon as I arrived at work, I marched in tears to the loo under bewildered looks from my staff. Yes, because us women suffer not only when we get dumped, but also when we do the dumping. After spending half an hour sat on the toilet blowing my nose, I was ready to work, but I kept my sunglasses on. Customers stared at me as if I had just escaped a mental hospital: a night-pub owner with sunglasses on.
What doesn’t help at all is that people who know us both, the ones who come to the pub on a daily basis, keep on asking: “Where is Pietro? Are you all set for your vacation in Naples?”.
Help!
But I do know, it was the right decision.
(Oh my God, did I make the right decision?)
Yes, it was the right thing to do.
Now, I’ve got a new life ahead, the life of a single, informed, knowledgeable, free, independent and culturally-gifted woman.
Single, again.
Enough with all those trivial, karma-diverting distractions such as tobacco, alcohol, sex and men.
I will be alone in the most positive meaning of the term, a lone woman entirely focused on her own interests and passions, literally focused, as in a permanent meditation.

LIST OF INTERESTS AND PASSIONS

WORKING OUT: I will pursue a considerable weekly mileage through running and cycling, good lung capacity, encouraging muscle tone, silky skin, a rational relationship with food and total ban on tobacco

READING: I will read. I mean, multifaceted, engaging and stimulating reads.

TRAVELLING: depending on the money situation. Destinations? Greece, Formentera, Arizona, France and Ireland (hosted by anglers, like I read on ‘The Independent Female’)

MUSIC: obviously, I can’t live without it (that means downloading a lot of stuff)

CINEMA: every Monday night, when the pub is closed

…and, more in general, everything I feel like doing. Which means doing nothing that goes against my personality, personal belief, intuition or doing something just because everyone else is doing it. By no means will I give up nurturing my persona for the sake of someone else, be they friend, boyfriend, toy-boy or one-night stand.
I mean, I have balls. I want to experiment with my strength, my energy, become a real W-O-M-A-N. And this is why I had to end my relationship with Pietro, a wrong relationship, which, okay, gave me some moments of joy but also sucked a lot of energy from me. Energy that, at the moment, I mean to utilise for myself only.
There’s no space for love, now.
When the moment will come for me to have a man by my side, I want to be that confident, self-aware woman, who literally OWNS her own life. But now there’s only me.
I’m not selfish.
I’m just egocentric.
And, above all, I am determined. I know my own s*it.
                
So, let’s talk about tomorrow, the dawn of my new life.
I will wake up at 10:30. No, let’s make it 11:00 (after all, I’m a night-worker).
I will have breakfast in the garden. Or maybe in the kitchen, too much hassle to carry all the stuff outdoors.
I will go to the Post Office to pay the car’s loan instalment.
Or maybe I’ll go shopping for groceries?
Or maybe jogging? No, too much stress early in the morning.
Hmm. Maybe I need to reset my priorities.
Now that I think about it, I completely forgot to buy my favourite blueberry tarts and tampons.
Oh well.

2:00 am
Humphh, I’d like to go home, but the last customers don’t seem to budge. Oh God, the song that reminds me of Pietro. I wonder whether I’ll see him tomorrow. Will he continue to come to the pub now that we’re not together anymore?
Before going to bed, I might do my nails. But which colour?

2:45 am, at home
I’m too tired to apply nail varnish. And I’m a bit peckish; I think I’m going to eat some courgettes in a hot-dog bun.

4:00 am, in bed
I’m thinking about him. I miss him.

4:01 am
The thing is, I care about him.

4:02 am
He really is good-looking.

4:03 am
I bet so many b*tches will be so happy when the rumour spreads in town that we split up. Grrr.