By Edward Nimusiima
Breaking up is not only an inevitable or expected thing; it is also a bitter thing. It is sour. It is sad and makes people cry. It makes people restless and sleepless, and heartless.
It leaves a bitter taste in a person’s mouth and a huge ugly crater in the heart that when it rains, that crater fills up with anguish and pain and angst. And breakups have their barbs. They lug along with things, different things. A few, or many things, happen after a breakup.
Some people veer off cliffs or buildings and fall in the arms of death. Some people, the lesser men and all women, close themselves in their rooms and weep for redemption. Some people hurriedly go home and yank off and break things that may remind them of their former lovers.
Some people take it upon themselves and take property, objects that were given to them by the same lovers and take them back to where they initially belonged. But who does that? Who has the guts, rather the kind heart to take the things back to the villains? Is it possible? In this era where someone is defined by what he or she has?
It depends on the things
“It depends on the things I am taking back. If they are costly or not. If they are permanent or not.” Daphine says. “If it is a car, I will definitely return it to him. But if it is a mere phone, or a television set or clothes, I can’t return them. ‑ Those are gifts and I can’t return them.” Yes, some people believe like Daphine.
They believe that it shows how low you are sinking when you return small things, like plates, clothes et al. It shows that you have conceded defeat and even though you are crying for the breakup, you are also crying for the property, for the small things. That property you have retrieved will crawl in your head and haunt you.
They always remind you of the previous owner and we all know how we don’t want to be reminded of our exes, don’t we? Being reminded of your ex is like digging a knife in a wound; it hurts, it really does. So why do you want to be reminded of the failed relationship? Why do you want to be reminded how you didn’t perform your conjugal responsibilities, or ducked in bed with the house keeper? Why do you accept the property then?
It depends on the breakup
There are different kinds of breakups. Even though all are in the same boat as breakups, they are not the same. Some people breakup on mutual understanding. Some breakups are really bitter and bring tears to the eyes and cause harm (yes, some of them).
So when a breakup is on a mutual understanding, say, you have discovered that you are clan mates or relatives, and you call it quits, there it is okay to take the darned things back. It is okay to breakup with a smile on your face and a tear streaking down from one eye. It is understandable.
“If we share a clan and we breakup not on a very sad side, I can return her things because I know it cost her bountiful of money.” Rogers, a university student, asserted. Payback time “I can’t. I swear, I can’t take back his things. There, I will be squeezing his nuts and it is my payback time.” Clare says, bitterly.
“It will be my chance to pay him back, to gain from the failed relationship. If he comes and demands for his things, I would either smash them on the wall and break them, or lock him out and call Police to drag him away from my door.”
Some people, especially girls, harbor dark thoughts. I don’t understand girls, man. I am no Dr. Phil. You never know what those female species think of you. They are romanticizing everything when you are still making up; they are calling you names, sweet names. But when you breakup, they change. They are chameleons, girls. ‑ They change and they change to a different color, a black color.
They become like pissed buffalos and they act as though they have no hearts in their ribcages. So when you stroll by to demand for your sleek iPhone, she will either smash it on the floor and shatters in million fragments and pour stuff on it or on you. So Mike, never demand things you gave to a woman. She won’t give them to you. She will rather give you something, something nasty.
THE KAMPALA SUN