He Broke Up With You and Suddenly You’re Having Yourself Altered

He breaks up with you, and for approximately five minutes you are simply a woman whose relationship has ended.

Then, quite unexpectedly, the alterations begin.

Maybe you were too demanding. Or too serious about things you should apparently have been breezing past with a lovely smile. Maybe you could have needed slightly less from him, asked fewer questions and cared much less about the thing you very much cared about.

It is astonishing how quickly a breakup can turn you into your own seamstress.

He has barely finished explaining that he does not think this is working, and somewhere in your imagination a curtain has already been pulled around a very elegant couture fitting room.

Once that curtain is drawn, you get surprisingly busy. Perhaps we take the expectations in a little, shorten the feelings and have another look at that rather demanding section where you expected him to call when he said he would. Do we really need all of that?

You stand obediently in front of the mirror while imaginary pins begin appearing everywhere.

Apparently your entire personality is now available for alterations.

We Can Probably Take That In

At first, the changes seem quite small.

Perhaps you could be more easygoing and simply stop mentioning the thing that kept bothering you. Better still, you could become one of those mysterious women who require almost nothing and are permanently delighted to see a man whenever he happens to remember they exist.

Very chic.

So we pin that.

Then you remember he once said you overthought things, which means thinking may also need to be taken in around the sides. He thought you wanted too much reassurance, so perhaps we can remove a little of that too.

Soon the fitting becomes surprisingly ambitious. You start wondering whether the new version of you even needs regular communication. Probably not. He could disappear for hours and wander back in as though he had merely gone to inspect the garden, and look at you—you would be completely unbothered.

And that disagreement you had about where the relationship was going? Well, the new you has absolutely no interest in knowing where anything is going. She is practically floating through life with a silk scarf and no forwarding address.

This is excellent news.

For him, mostly.

Meanwhile, the pins keep going in.

The New Version Is Becoming Very Convenient

The trouble with emergency tailoring is that once you start, almost anything begins to look alterable.

Maybe your standards were a touch too long.

Perhaps your expectations could lose another inch.

That perfectly reasonable wish to feel loved consistently is making the whole silhouette rather complicated, so out it comes.

You turn sideways in front of the imaginary mirror and something seems different.

Well, yes.

There is considerably less of you.

But never mind. If this version might make him reconsider, suddenly that seems reason enough to keep pinning. You are not asking whether you like the new shape. You are wondering whether he might.

Which is how a woman who was quite certain about what she wanted before dinner can, several hours later, find herself mentally announcing that she has always loved emotional uncertainty.

Always.

Huge fan.

At some point, even the imaginary seamstress must be looking at you rather carefully.

Madam.

We have removed quite a lot.

And still you keep finding things to offer. You could be more patient, more understanding, less bothered, less disappointed, less likely to notice things that were, unfortunately, rather noticeable.

He broke up with you and somehow you have responded by putting your entire personality on a little pedestal and asking what else can be taken off.

Someone Please Take Away the Pins

Then you catch sight of this beautifully altered woman in the mirror and realize that, yes, she might actually be easier for him to date.

There is only one tiny complication.

You have absolutely no idea who she is.

She does not mind things you minded. She does not want things you wanted. She has become magnificently relaxed about situations that used to have her staring at the ceiling wondering what on earth was going on.

Frankly, she seems exhausted.

And looking at her, you start to wonder whether all this may have gone a little too far, especially since the man you’re doing it for has already left.

Because he did not bring you here asking for a small adjustment to the hem. He ended the relationship. Yet somehow you are still standing under flattering lights covered in pins, trying on an entirely different version of yourself for a man who has already gone home.

That is rather a lot of tailoring for someone who is no longer in the building.

So eventually, the imaginary seamstress begins taking the pins out. No grand speech required. Nobody needs to burst through the curtain and announce that you were flawless exactly as you were; you probably were not. None of us are.

But just because something did not suit him does not mean we need to start cutting pieces off it. Maybe the expectations can come back out, the feelings can remain full length, and that apparently outrageous preference for being called when somebody says he will call can stay exactly where it was.

You step down from the little pedestal looking considerably more like yourself.

The relationship is still over, unfortunately.

But at least you are no longer standing there covered in pins for a man who has already left the shop.