Croatia is the smartest country ever. Okay, well, at least in terms of artistic representation of relationships. Or museums. Croatia has a Museum of Broken Relationships in the capital.

What becomes of a garden gnome hurled in fury at a car during a stormy breakup? Or a teddy bear that was once a Valentine’s Day present? A wedding dress from a marriage gone awry? An ax that smashed through household furniture?

All are on display at the Museum of Broken Relationships in the Croatian capital, each with written testimonies telling tales of passion, romance and heartbreak.

On Valentine’s Day, the museum sees its visits almost double.

Okay, yes, the single girl writhing on Valentines day – how cliché. As I sit here, looking back at the last 24 hours of “Single’s Awareness Day” humiliation with a chocolate induced stomach-ache (apparently, I am still allergic to chocolate, as I have been for the past 19 years, I don’t know why I ever forget this…), I realize that, despite my protests on most other days on the year, I have not always been single. Or at least, I have not necessarily dated, but I have certainly broken up. How is it that you can not “start” a “thing” and only notice how “thing”-like it is when it ends? I’m going to use my post today to invite you, my dearest, most loyal She-Bomb readers, with me on my journey down memory lane. In chronological order I will explore several choice broken hearted instances. Maybe afterwards I’ll feel better.

Jake, grade 6 – After 23 hours of sheer bliss, including ascending to the top floor of the cafeteria to eat with his cool guy friends, and an improv scene together in our acting seminar (um, yes, we had advanced acting classes for 11-year-olds. Fun fact: Spike Lee’s sister was randomly our teacher. She’s insane. What was my childhood?), Jake broke up with me in the 8th floor hallway. He said he wanted to be “just friends.” I shook. I trembled. I couldn’t speak. I ran all the way down to the lobby, and declared, to maybe 20 girls in my grade, that I had just been dumped. I sobbed in the middle of the lobby for an extended period of time, during which Jake had to awkwardly pass by on his way out of the building. The next day we were friends again.

Matt, grade 10 – I can’t remember why I broke up with Matt. I had this weird feeling in my stomach for the whole week we were “dating” that I think, in hindsight, was probably attraction. I just didn’t know what to do with that so I thought it would be safe to break up with him and then ignore him for the rest of time. On Friday morning I ran into him in the elevator line (#constantLy in the lobby) and said, simply: “I don’t want to do this.” Matt sort of just looked confused. Then I realized I was planning on taking the elevator to a class I had in two minutes on the 10th floor. I couldn’t exactly wait in line, so I had to pant/run up 10 flights of stairs. Matt and I got over it, though. We’ve lost touch now, but he was one of my closest friends through last year.

Liza, grade 10 – was a friend, not romantic. But I felt like the silent treatment should be mentioned here. There was no break-up talk, but a lack of one. Somehow my long-distance best friend slipped into oblivion, never to be seen or heard from again. There was never even closure here and we had been friends for 8 years. I still miss her.

Andrew, grade 12 – He was so nice. I was so drunk. I hooked up with… his older brother… on grad night… in front of him. I saw Andrew recently. He’s apparently dating a beautiful Croatian girl. #irony

Dan, summer after graduation – He came with me to help me buy a new pair of glasses. I went to talk to the lady at the counter and when I turned around, he was gone. I guess that’s one way to do it, although it didn’t make it easier on me.

Jen, freshman year – my first girlfriend was a total U-haul. I mean, we were sharing a bed before we ever made out. I left for class one morning and she was still sleeping. When I came back in, she had made my bed. I kid you not – I vomited. In college you have so few things that are YOURS, and yours alone. When someone fucks with that, takes your alcohol, or rearranges stuff in your room, I, for one, can’t handle it.

Chris, freshman and sophomore year – you know that upperclassman you were hooking up with as a freshman that was sort of nasty? I think Chris and I “broke up” maybe 4 times over the course a year. The first and last times are most notable. He told me on the way to a party that he didn’t “want to sleep with me anymore.” He wasn’t exactly the most tactful. My mature response? I got incredibly drunk, stormed into his suite, cried, and punched him. Clearly we were made for each other.

The last time, my most recent “break-up,” was when Chris came to visit homecoming weekend. We had done all the right things: flirted over text, planned to have him crash with me, even had dinner together when he got here. When it came right down to it though, and he was really there, in the flesh, in my room, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why he had been so attractive to me the year before. In the end, I just couldn’t…

AAAAAND, ladies and gentlemen, that’s where this sad story ends! TADA! Happy Valentines day! I still have a stomachache. But it’s nice to remember that plenty of my past relationships ended completely on my own initiative. I am single BY CHOICE!

<3 Constant theme, Constantly