If you don’t know I was recently dumped. Who dumped me and why they dumped me doesn’t matter for the sake of this post. What does matter is the pain, the heartache after.
You see, on the eve of 30, I have never been dumped. Sure I’ve courted some gals and that went nowhere, but my emotions were never truly invested, likely because I kept a stable of girls to get with. Its hard to feel the pity of rejection when you got two bitches sucking your sorrow away. Even when last year’s 12 month relationship ended, I was not as affected. But this one is different.
I loved this one. Fucked up word for me to use, but I know that I have never felt as much regret, jealousy, and anger over any previous gals.
Now I find myself listening to all the sad bastards music I was always adamantly against. No, I’m not getting drunk to Drake on repeat (I got dumped, not turned gay after all), but I did find myself humming along to Avant and Deborah Cox’s We Can’t Be Friends before I realized what happened. I was and am heartbroken.
I find myself coping with the breakup through music. Actually, I keep catching myself in the middle of it. You see, its all subconscious. I love Al Green. My favorite song is Love and Happiness. I get crunk when I hear the foot tap and that guitar lick. But guess what Al Green song keeps sneaking itself onto my Youtube player – How Can You Mend a Broken Heart. WTF? When I thought I was okay, I’d put on something loud, like Nirvana, but after a few moments of In Bloom, I found myself listening to All Apologies on repeat. Followed that with Radiohead’s Fake Plastic Trees and by then, I just said fuck fighting it.
After listening to Yeah Yeah Yeah’s Maps on repeat for an hour, I switched to an hour of Gilbert O’Sullivan’s Alone Again (Naturally). Nobody should listen to that song for an hour straight, but when you feel this low, you don’t notice the time passing. Days seem forever. After that, a little bit of Stevie Wonder and Donny Hathaway to pull me into this rut more. Donny Hathaway is the prophet of sorrow, btw.
I couldn’t tell if I was getting any closer to better. All I knew is that I didn’t listen to a rapper for the last week. Seeing how thats kind of important to maintaining a hip hop blog, I perused the web looking for new shit only to find myself reading and then downloading Frank Ocean’s music again.
Before he was critically acclaimed. Now he is the pastor in this church I call a broken heart. We got a band, a choir, and a congregation up in here. Billie Holiday sings lead on sorrow. Death Cab For Cutie ushered me to the front pew. Morgana King and Gladys Knight in the pulpit. Can’t tell if they preaching or the preacher’s wife. And Amy Winehouse passed out communion, god bless the dead.
I get it. This is how it feels. Amazing I avoided it for so long. Way to go me!
If love songs mean anything to recovering from a breakup, I am sure I will be playing Lauryn Hill and Aaliyah soon. And hopefully, that’s where this thing ends. I don’t think I can stomach much more of these sad love songs.
Guess I’ll play some Toni Braxton Boomerang shit for now.