recovering from the end of a relationship is . . . difficult. the dejection, resentment, immediate loneliness, blinding anger, and painful vulnerability. during my last break-up, i was completely consumed in an emotional vortex. the healing which normally occurs post break-up was nullified by spatial circumstances. i lived with the one i fought to detach myself from for a month after the official end. it was a masochistic wank. we were together for about a year, six months of which was spent in cohabitation, or "living in sin" as my mother described it.

the first phase of breaking-up . . . utter denial

we ended our relationship while still sharing a four-room apartment. i remember discussing it maturely as if it was a business arrangement. it was simple -- we weren’t in love and felt one year was a sufficient deadline. he even joked about it being a divorce and i laughed. at the beginning, our split seemed distant and conceptual. in theory we were separated, but in practice we were still living out our habitual existence together. we continued to cook dinner for one another and despite the disapproval of our friends, were still sleeping together, too. everything seemed the same in our fucked-up little world. it continued that way until he started avoiding me. he stopped coming home for dinner and started consuming an alcoholic’s supply of liquor.

second phase. . . erratic thought and behaviour

one night while lying in our bed alone, pretending not to be waiting for him to come home, i imagined him drunkenly flirting with women. of course that led to imaging him having sex. and who it would be. perhaps a stranger he picked up. or someone he was hiding from me. or maybe one of his attractive female friends. the thought made m