Dear breakups, separations and divorces,

Don’t mind me, I’m just sifting through the carnage you’ve left in your rampage, like a bull in a china shop, looking for the silver lining and that wispy thing called wisdom.

Let’s not get into the semantics of who did what, when, why and with whom. Semantics are for navel-gazers and masochists.

While you have allowed self-doubt to creep in like a stranger in the midnight hour and is still there having breakfast with me, you’ve done me a favour, actually.

Firstly, I am no longer swayed by the superficial aspects of love as so profitably portrayed in countless Holly- and Bollywood films. I no longer care for the twinkling eyes and delicious derriere. You cannot fool me into thinking these are the requisite qualities guaranteed to make my heart sing (or warble) with joy.

Secondly, you remind me of how alike are romantic love and the weather. They can both evaporate one day or grind you down in a screeching storm the next. They can both be dry and unremarkable and burn you if you’re not protected.

But I must thank you for making me cleverer. Without you wreaking havoc with your uncoupling ways, I have now developed a sense more astute than Spiderman’s, where I can sniff trouble at 500 paces and flee accordingly in the opposite direction. I don’t get much exercise but this is good cardio.

So I must thank you, dear Breakups, Separations and Divorces, for the clarity, after the carnage and the confusion.

For you have freed me from the delusion that everything is perfect and everything lasts forever. Sadly, you really should have a word with the people in the glossies, spin agencies and product peddlers that have spent decades selling us that fairy-tale. It’s about time, don’t you think?

Love,

Me.