Raise a glass to falling out of love.

Falling in love is a beautiful feeling; no doubt about that.

People have been talking about it since the beginning of time; art, film, literature, music, facebook…it’s everywhere- it’s discussed on a daily basis and dealt with in numerous forms by people from all walks of life.

Falling out of love simply doesn’t get the same press.

I do not know why. Yes, maybe it’s a little less romantic, a little less fun and lacking somewhat in optimism. But it’s just as important. In some weird, screwed up way- I love the feeling of falling out of love.

Maybe I am a- glass half empty- kind of girl. Maybe this isn’t the kind of topic that people want to hear or read about it- but I think it’s due a mention.

Break-ups are one thing; everybody hates them. Nobody likes change. It’s probable that both parties to a relationship are sad; whether you’re the person doing the breaking up “the breaker upper” or the person being broken up with “the break upee.” It sucks for everyone. If you have been cheated on or want the relationship to end- it’s still a tough time- if only because it makes you remember why you liked the other person, what has changed and what is now missing.

Perhaps at this point- you haven’t reached the amazing feeling of falling out of love. Or atleast it’s not likely that you both have.

It might be a matter of days before the revelation hits you, weeks, months or even years. But when it does, boy does it feel great!

I should know, I have experienced it today.

After breaking up with my last boyfriend- we’ll call him “Mr X” it was left on okay terms. We broke up because of circumstance rather than anything else. It wasn’t hugely painful- no cheating, we didn’t screw each other, just a mutual and amicable split.

But then it went wrong. We’d text each other in moments of boredom, intrigue or loneliness. Ofcourse when he wanted to text me- I didn’t want to hear from him. I’d be out with my friends, madly working to meet a deadline or having dinner with my family and he would receive (to put it nicely) an icy response. Equally, when I wanted to speak to him- he would be equally as busy and equally as uninterested and I would then face the less than enthused reply.

This out of sync process went on for weeks. We grew more agitated and more annoyed with one another. But underneath each arsey reply of mine- I still knew that I loved him.

I’m a tough cookie- ask anyone who knows me if I’m over him and they’ll laughingly tell you that I am. But I wasn’t completely. I’ve never been the kind of girl to sit and cry over a boy, I’m not about to put on an “I hate men” and am toying with lesbianism front either. I just come across as impartial- and largely I was.

But, late at night- I’d fantasise about being held in the depths of his arms and pulled closed to his chest- as he used to do to me when I was scared. Late at night, I’d remember something that had made us laugh so hard for hours and I’d smile. Late at night I’d remember the tiny details- the little things he had done to make me smile.

It hurt.

Every time I heard from him, my heart would skip a beat. Whenever something reminded me of him I’d feel a little bit sick inside- but today, well today- nothing.

I realised that it was done. That I was done.

I don’t love the man anymore, I don’t hate him either- I’m simply impartial. If I saw him in the street I’d nod in recognition but barely give it a second thought.

For a split second it saddened me- that the energy, the time, the money, the effort that I had put into him- was rendered useless.

But that second was a transient one.

I was free. Free in a way that you’re not by solely regaining single status. I was truly free this time. I wasn’t hooked up on hearing from him- thinking that he must still think of me, why else would he text? I genuinely just didn’t care. It didn’t even irritate me.

When I was single I was stuck in a rut. Yes I could sleep with anyone that I wanted to (not that I exercised this, but nonetheless) yes, I could go out  and do what I wanted without being accountable to anyone, yes, I could spend time with my friends and family- which I’d compromised on whilst being with Mr X. But I wasn’t free. Not truly single- because my heart was, in part, still caught up on him.

I’d hear a song on the radio and wonder if he would like it. I’d hear a joke and wonder if he would laugh at it. I’d wear a new dress and wonder if he’d admire me in it. And man- it used to irritate me- because, I’d lost the ability to think for myself. Why did I care? All that should matter was whether I liked the damn song, if I found the joke funny or I felt attractive in the dress- but at that point, it didn’t.

On today’s gem of a discovery- I feel that I am myself. That the Beyonce in me can be unleashed again.

I can think for myself and I can be myself without Mr X even being a distant consideration.

Falling out of love is an amazing feeling. So empowering. I feel like playing my Spice Girls CD on repeat and telling the world that “I don’t need a man.” I don’t. I have always known that. But now I feel like I actually believe it.

When you fall for someone it’s indescribable- but undoubtedly, you lose a part of yourself. Your autonomy, your guard drops and your heart belongs to someone else (excuse the cliché.) When you fall out of love- you suddenly become whole again, you can reclaim yourself.

What better feeling in the world is there than that? The world becomes unstable, but exciting. Suddenly opportunities open up- I can have fun with my single friends, unashamedly dance on tables, get rip roaringly drunk. I can wait on tenterhooks, excitedly texting numerous guys, I can leave the house without my phone and let one plan turn into another and then a third without having to “check in” with anybody. I can go to bed at whatever hour I want, sit up and read a book with the light on and sleep in for the entirety of the next day because I don’t have to consider anybody else.

It’s brilliant.

It’s a fresh start.

I love falling out of love. I love the fact that my heart has made this decision on it’s own terms, quite unexpectedly. Yes, falling out of love with someone might be ideal the first time that they hit you, the second you discover their infidelity or the moment when they dump you out of the blue. But it doesn’t work like that. It comes when it’s ready to- and trust me, when it does, it’s worth the wait.

When I go to sleep tonight, I’ll be starfishing across my huge empty double bed- I shall embrace life and rather than wishing I was in the arms of my Mr X- I shall be fantasising about my unknown, exciting future and about sipping cocktails with my best friends until the small hours. Hello, to the independent, empowered and free me.

I learned a lot about falling in love when I fell out of love…