Ode To The Steel-Handed Stingray (In Times Of Distress)

Dear Octopus,


A person terribly close to me is suffering the break-up of their long-term relationship. Never nice, or easy. But you know that.


And as you may also know, this Action Squid has only been manacled to two girlfriends unlucky enough to have their sentences extended beyond a year's tenure, but due to 'complications' at the demise of both relationships I have acquired some skills in handling the protracted complications that can arise from primary, secondary and even tertiary post-break-up run-ins. I may even presume to call myself adept at the art of gracefully receiving drunken late-night phone calls, the grim science of making drunken early-morning phone calls, and a whole host of other less amusing interactions in-between. As such, I thought it prudent to give some unwise encouragement in the field of surviving the apocalypse (if not in its entirety then at least for the rest of the day).


As follows:


Stratagems For The Effective Dissolution Of Romance (Day Two)


'Breaking up' can be hard on the stomach and liver;
Tough on the hairline and looks.
Tough is dissection of the CD collection
that triage of mountains of books.


So get out on the town and party it up,
Drag all your mates up for a dance.
But take adequate measure for securing your leisure;
book your cab home in advance.


Get lost in a bottle of gin-rum-tequila,
Soak up all that angst of regret.
Get shitfaced and run from a future undone:
Wake up, move on, and forget.


Not necessarily the most beneficial mantra for coping with separation, but a short-term fix is better than a long-term need for one. And I'm sure you would agree with me Octopus, were I to tell him: 


In all seriousness mon frere, sometimes it's hard, and unfair, and the worst part is knowing that we'll never really get to the root of why it had to happen. Just know that you couldn't have done more, and that you are good in all the ways I wish I could be..........and while that might provide only the smallest immediate comfort from the besieging hurt of these long hours and days, at least it's something to save for later. Like your last piece of chewing gum, or The Pacific on Blu-Ray. 


(Also, be glad you're not here. Today when Clare requested two weeks off at the beginning of June I told her no, as I was planning to go away on holiday then. 'Well that's a lie,' she immediately snapped, 'you can't afford a holiday and nobody would go with you.')


She's right, on all charges.


Your loving friend,


Action Squid