Thank You Coldplay and Darth Vader. without You, I Wouldn't Be Here Today

Last night when I met up with Piers, I thought I would do the casual, “So. How’s Coldplay these days?” Instead, it came out all shrill and bitter, “So how is that f*cker doing, anyway??”

Piers’ face registered a subtle look of surprise. He recovered quickly and provided an outwardly diplomatic response of, “He’s alright, I guess. I don’t get to see him much. He’s still in Hong Kong. He hasn’t come to London for a visit yet, actually.”

On the way home I wondered why, after a year’s time, I am still harboring useless anger towards Coldplay. Was it because I was jilted? No, because I had forgiven him for that. It was his prerogative to end the relationship and I can’t possibly hold a grudge for the break up.

I thought about how, after Coldplay discovered Piers and I were maintaining a friendship subsequent to the break up, he tried to interject himself into the situation. He said things that hurt me, probably to get attention.

Then I realized, “Why do I care?” I don’t know why I’m angry. The point is, I need to give myself some sort of closure. This person doesn’t live in the same country. I haven’t spoke to him in about a year. I have moved on with my life, and he his. I don’t need to hang onto this bitterness. It’s a freaking waste of energy.

While I was at it, I wondered where else in my life am I making this same mistake? Bam. Obvious. Darth Vader, my old boss. I spend way too much time thinking about that spindly psychopath. It’s over. I don’t ever have to see this person again. Why do I still feel such intense hatred for her?

I need to reformulate these feelings of resentment and put the energy towards appreciation for my new life. Would I ever want to work for Darth Vader again? No. I hated working for her. I love working at my new job. How about instead of thinking about how I’m angry at her, I thank her for giving me the opportunity to leave a bad situation for a super duper one. I’m going to become a better writer at my new job, and I’m getting paid for it. It’s ridiculously awesome. Thank you, Darth Vader! You saved my career by having me reject what your crapass had to offer!

And now for the million dollar question: Would I ever date Coldplay again? Is there any reason whatsoever for me to feel upset that our relationship failed? The answer to that is a resounding, “Hell no!” Why is that? Let’s do a comparison.

Life with Coldplay: Um, let’s see. How much fun was it to listen to an armchair journalist complain that he is so stressed out, that he would prefer to have a job as a cleaning lady because it would be less stressful. Or he would rather be Mr. Mom and let me be the breadwinner. Be a man, you little f*ck. So work involves stress. Grow up. (Okay there’s that anger again. Deep breath.) Back to why he was not an ideal mate, but in a more objective fashion this time. He couldn’t make a simple decision to save his life. Hamburger or pizza for dinner? Oh my god, let’s listen to him debate himself for the next twenty minutes. And you get to listen to this every day for the rest of your life. No thank you, Coldplay! But thanks for freeing me up so that I could tackle Red Beard!

And now for life with Red Beard: He is someone who wants to be a man. He wants to take on his career and sink his teeth into it. He wants to suck the marrow from the bone that is his career. Or something. (Take that, cleaning lady! Not that there’s anything wrong with being a cleaning lady. It’s just that if you’re doing it to avoid ambition and stress, well, then that’s a problem. If you’re doing it because you are satisfied by cleaning or you want to work hard to make a living, then that is admirable.) Red Beard can also make decisions, even when it comes to our relationship. He decided that he wanted me in his life, so he asked me to move in with him. There was no tortuous debate that he carried out in front of me like, “What if you have too much stuff? What if your hair clogs the drain? What if I get sick of you? What if you don’t let me watch football for nine hours straight?” I’m sure he wondered about all of those things, but he spared me the details of his inner monologue. Thank you for dumping me, Coldplay, so that I may live with Red Beard and enjoy the hell out of his sexy butt! Thanks once more Coldplay, because now I can date a real man instead of some man-boy hybrid thingie!

There, I think I’m on my way towards working out the emotions.

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