Here I am, unhappily working but happily listening to Prince via Rhapsody. "Peach" is on, and it makes me smile with nostalgia. Mind you, I have no happy memories whatsoever about this song, no happy associations of any kind. What I have: Sarah hated it. Despised it. That I like the song did not dissuade her in the least from shitting all over it at every opportunity. It was, of course, but one of countless such points of derision. But here I am, sans Sarah, enjoying "Peach" without someone ruining it. The confluence of its presence and her absence makes me smile.
I love that feeling. It's the underappreciated upside of breaking up.
For me, the upside reaches its peak almost immediately, even before the tears dry. "Well," I'll sniff, "At least I don't have to deal with fucking [insert name of her undermedicated parent or most loathesome friend] anymore."
"Yeah, but there's also the songs that you both liked that just bum you out," says Darcy. No doubt. But if you're hateful enough, there's substantial sweet with that bitter.