me, but I was making life miserable for her. I began to alienate my good friends with my obsession, my work began to suffer, and I looked like shit. Even worse, I was drinking like it was the day before Prohibition.
Well, one night after too many tequila shots I figured I would blow in a call to Ms. New York City just to see if there had been any change in her insistence that she was not the girl for me. (Here’s where the story gets good.) She was living in the New York Paramount Hotel at the time, waiting for her apartment to open up. With the number committed to memory, I drunk-dialed…“Paramount Hotel,” said the fellow on the other end. Now realize this: It’s probably 2:30 A.M. Los Angeles time, making it 5:30 A.M. in New York. I don’t know the exact time because numbers weren’t making sense. Good start. So the desk clerk answers, “Paramount Hotel. How may I direct your call?” Well, I was so smashed that I couldn’t even pronounce my lady’s name. Seriously, I’d have made more sense if I’d just barked like a dog. The desk clerk said, “I’m sorry, sir, can you say that again?” I tried again, unsuccessfully. “Sir, perhaps you’d like to spell it?” (Oh my God, man! Have some self-respect. Put down the phone, Greg!) But I didn’t. I took a stab at spelling it. Finally, he understood whom it was that I was trying to reach. But right before he was about to put me through to her room he said the most amazing thing. He said, “Are you sure you want to make this call, sir?” What? I thought. Are you kidding me? Out of the drunken blackness came this anonymous voice of concern. “Am I sure I want to make this call?” And I had a moment. No, I thought, I don’t want to make this call. I’ve made this call before. This call never works out. This call always makes it worse. This call takes me further and further away from the place I want to be. Which is a place that is dignified and cool. “No,” I said. “I don’t want to make this call. Thanks.” And I hung up and passed out, fully clothed, the last shreds of my dignity still intact.
The next day, hungover and sad, I remembered the voice on the other end of the line. The voice that had said, “Are you sure you want to make this call?” I thought, Wouldn’t it be great if you had that voice in your head all the time? Your own personal breakup buddy, someone there to make sure you don’t make the bad phone call, the ill-advised drive-by, the decision to dress up in their clothes and pretend you’re them as a way of getting inside their thoughts? That’s why we’ve come up with this book. This book is that voice. We are the friends who care enough about you to make sure you do this thing right. Breakups hurt like a motherf*#ker, but they are not the end of the world. The pain is temporary, and if handled properly, they can even be life-changing. Our goal is to help you turn your breakup into the event that changes your life for the better. After all…you are a Superfox.
It’s past two in the morning. You’re on your third glass of wine. You’re wearing his sweater because it still smells like him (and quite frankly, he never really smelled that great, but I’m going to give it to you because I’ve been there). I’ve been the saddest girl in the world, with a mangled heart and the certainty that getting over him was impossible. I’ve been the girl so in love with a person incapable of giving me what I needed out of a relationship that I not only married him but gladly gave away every last shred of my self-esteem to keep him. I’ve been the girl who not only suffers through an unhealthy, demoralizing relationship but then goes back to it in hopes that time spent apart has inspired him to love me enough to change…or even try. And guess what? It didn’t. I’ve been consumed with despair, confusion, anger—truly devastated by the end of a relationship that I thought was going to last forever. I’ve cried into glass after glass of pinot grigio, smoked packs of cigarettes, lost my appetite, my ability to sleep, and my ability to function. I’ve obsessed, rebounded, been pissed, sought professional help, leaned on my friends, moved across the country, got dogs, made new friends, shopped excessively, and even had other boyfriends who did love me despite the fact that I was still so hung up on the past that I was completely incapable of giving them what they needed from me. Truth be told, I rode that horse long after it had up and died and married someone else. On the outside, I wore the illusion that I was over it and that the end of the marriage was best for us both. But that charade was all smoke and mirrors and empty words. Being brokenhearted is like having broken ribs. On the outside it looks like nothing’s wrong, but every breath hurts. Let’s just say my ribs were broken for a long time.
Now, it may surprise you to hear that in all other areas of my life I was confident and successful. It’s true. I had a kick-ass job, made good money, had lots of friends, a great apartment, cool clothes, excellent taste in music, etc.…But for whatever reason, getting over this guy took forever. He was my kryptonite. And like Superman, I was powerless in his wake. But if you’ve seen the movies, you know that Superman always figures out a way to overcome kryptonite. And thankfully, I did too.
Now, defeating kryptonite and getting over a broken heart is incredibly tough. It’s also wildly empowering. But the even bigger victory is finally living your own life again without the constant presence of heartache. That’s the goal, and we’re here to help you get there. I’ve stood where you’re standing now, broken to the point that I couldn’t get past the idea that my life wasn’t turning out the way I’d planned. But guess what? Once I got through it and started living my life differently, making better decisions and demanding more from myself and for myself, I got a windfall that I never imagined. Today, my life is even better than I ever dreamed or planned. I have a husband whom I adore and whose love and devotion for me blows my mind every day. I have two beautiful daughters who are the funniest and most delightful people I’ve ever had the joy of knowing. And I have the very best friends and family in the world, whom I am grateful for every day. I would have missed it all if I’d wasted my life trailing after my ex and staying stuck in my grief. It’s like my Granny always said:“Even with all the mayonnaise in the world, you can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit.” Feel free to apply that wisdom to your bad relationship.
Love,Amiira
So how is it that a Superfox like you finds herself holding the winning ticket in the pain lottery? A seemingly endless jackpot of sorrow that you won’t be splitting with anyone else. That doesn’t mean you’re alone. In fact, as our stories show, everyone goes through it. But here’s the thing that you need to know right now: YOU ARE GOING TO GET THROUGH THIS. And like every lottery winner, you can either take it in one lump sum and figure out what you’re going to do with it, OR you can spread it out in yearly installments and really make it last. We prefer option one. Sure, it’s less pain than if you drag it out for years, but if you take it all now, you get to decide what you’re going to do with it. How to invest it, spend it, roll around in it—or get rid of it.
Breakups are among the most excruciating things that can happen to a person invited to the concert called life. We acknowledge this and in no way want to belittle your heartbreak. But we’ve purposefully made the tone of this book humorous in an effort to distract you from the very real and overwhelming feelings that you’re having. We intend to give you genuine advice and practical suggestions for not only dealing with this insufferable situation but also redecorating your living room. “What?” you ask. Believe it or not, it’s all part of the process.
If you’re reading our book right now, it’s probably because you’ve been dumped, you’re brokenhearted, you’re still stuck on your ex, or even all of the above. Perhaps you were the dumper and are having second thoughts—we’ll deal with you soon enough, but we’re pretty sure you made the right decision. Whether you delivered or received the “It’s Not You, It’s Me” speech, as hard as it is to hear right now, your relationship wasn’t a match. We know you wanted it to be and are hoping that we’re going to tell you that this isn’t real. That he or she will be knocking down your door tomorrow, begging to be taken back, and all your pain and heartache will be erased. That there’s a simple way to fix all the problems, and if you just try a little bit harder