Someday, your bae will go away and will leave you sad for many days. Or a weekend. For me, that weekend was this weekend. My man was soaking in the sun on a tropical beach while I was wallowing in self pity and soaking in a pool of emotions and cucumber vodka. Here’s how I coped.
Netflix and chill, party of one.
It’s always good to take some personal time. Having a few days to yourself can really help you find clarity and peace with yourself and your relationship.
Clear your head, relax your mind and de-stress.
My suggestion is to mindlessly watch an old season of “Grey’s Anatomy” to remind you that love is fleeting and impermanent, and even though Meredith and Derek loved each other, (SPOILER ALERT:) he still died. What if that happens to me? Wow, McSteamy is really hot.
Numb the longing.
A nice, strong adult beverage is the perfect way to calm the racing thoughts that come from separation anxiety, which may include but are not limited to: What if my significant other is cheating on me? What if he got Locked Up Abroad? What if he got Natalee Holloway’d (verb: to allegedly get killed on a tropical island but most likely sex trafficked instead)?
It’s time to have a nice little rendezvous with our good friends Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, Captain Morgan, Johnnie Walker and Mike (not Mike’s Hard Lemonade, just a regular person named Mike).
Just be sure to do it safely and control yourself. And make sure Jose Cuervo is the only man who ends up getting all over your bed.
Flick the bean.
First, can we take a moment to talk about how ridiculous the phrase ‘flicking the bean’ is? It gives me a very off-putting and concerning visual of someone literally flicking a flesh-colored legume like a paper football.
I bet you now have the same visual. Flick. Flick, flick.
Anyway, a little self-love can make the time go faster and even help you get excited for when you and your lover meet up again. It’s said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think that absence makes the orgasm come harder.
So you can always pull up your significant other’s tagged photos on Facebook and use your imagination to flick yourself.
Write a love letter. Or text him, like, 100 times saying you miss him.
Let’s just say that when my bae turns on his cell phone it will vibrate longer and harder than the entire ‘Personal Massagers’ section of a Brookstone.
He may not have had a Wi-Fi connection, but I did and sent a boat load of texts and even more Snapchats, talking about everything from how Adam Rippon is definitely trying to take Johnny Weir’s spot on NBC to the fact that I cried because I saw his favorite wine in Publix.
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This column was previously published with an incorrect byline. The author is V’s Take.