Disclaimer: I am not a psycho ex.
It's the same every time. No matter who I break up with, no matter why I break up with them, and no matter what the relationship constituted of (semi-serious, super-almost-marriage-serious, or flat out long and confusing... anything but a few week long fling), I do the same things. Or at least some of the same things. My sophomore year I started the process of throwing out clothes. Clothes I wore when we had our first kiss in, our first fight, our break up... sometimes just clothes they really like. My senior year of high school, I burned pictures and letters and emails. I burned them into flames. Still true to my latest breakup, I tear up pictures, I tear up letters, I write new letters I never intend to send, I throw out things they gave me, and if I'm really mad I break CDs they gave me or dump perfume...even squeeze out lotion. Sometimes I delete their phone numbers, their emails, and most of their pictures from my laptop.
Alright so now that I sound crazy...
It's a mourning process. I do it every time. But let me water it down: I have a lot of clothes, so throwing out (or pushing them into the back of my closet) really is not a big deal. The burning? I had backups of the emails, and doubles of some pictures. Tearing up of pictures? Most likely, they're stored to a CD somewhere or stuck in a collage on my wall. Deletion of phone number? No big. If you want it later, all you have to do is ask. You can even ask a mutual friend. They'll never need to know. And more than anything? It's fun.
Let's face it: Women love Carrie Underwood-esque "Before He Cheats" songs. We all want to key the car when we get cheated on, we want to egg their house, and we want to make out with their best friend. It's called revenge. And women love to do it, not only for the rush, but for the rush of it later. Then we talk smack on them. A lot of my ex's are known not by their names, but by nicknames. Names like "My dead-beat boyfriend," My "cheating but I still want to marry you boyfriend," My "funny and so hot-hot-hot boyfriend," The one with "the cool vibe". The "awkward one", The "What Was I thinking" one. They're all there. And I loved them. All of them... but some more than others.
Point? None of this "mourning process" really matters.
In the end, I end up restoring the pictures on my laptop, I stop talking smack on them, I no longer want to egg their house (though I may date one of their friends), I put their phone number back on my phone, I put their email (that I had memorized all along) back in my address book, I say hi to them on campus, sometimes I even date them again. In the end, the mourning process doesn't matter. But we all have personal mourning processes. I like to tear things, and I like to cry. I like to do it and I know I do. It makes me free.
Sometimes I even prolong the system, simply because I don't want to date. I want to grieve. And the funniest part of this? I've never been the dumpee. Ever. I've always been the dumper (though many a time I've been the dumper after issues of cheating and lying). But what's a girl to do? I don't want to be calm when I break up. I want to be free. I want to tear that part of my heart out, and put it somewhere else. So I do. In art and tearing things up and music and school. That's how I do it each and every time since I was 15 years old... Only now I don't always listen to Toby Keith and Jessica Andrews to get the pain out of my system.
And I'm not the only one like this. Just ask your college aged friends, family members, or daughters. They'll be the same way, too. And that's why it's folklore. I'll never know why someone thought of burning pictures after a break up, but sometimes it feels good to see things go up in flames.
In the words of Rilo Kiley, "OOh! Ahh! Feels good to be FREE!"
