Go on; open up that bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Pour yourself a glass. No, not that thin-stemmed sissy champagne flute.
The long wide tumbler.
Now take a nice long sip. Close your eyes. Relax. Let the rich sour taste sink in. That’s it, there you go. Ignore the flashing red indicator light of your blackberry. It is probably another scathing email.
Heartbreaker.
You smile. It’s not the first time you’ve been called that. Perhaps it will be the last?
Heart. Breaker.
Porcelain. Porcelain always comes to mind whenever that term is used.
So basically, you take people’s porcelain hearts and smash those to tiny little pieces, yes? Isn’t that what they mean?
There was Tobi. Cute little Tobi. You were both young, he was traveling for school. Your being young did not stop you from seeing the futility in long distance puppy love. He didn’t take it very kindly. “Heartbreaker”, he called you. Take another sip.
Then came Tunde. You really were in love with him. But you had only just started University. He was done with school and was already showing you around to the family as ‘wife’. You weren’t ready. Wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t yours either. Different stages in your lives. He’s married with a kid now and you’re still not ready. It would never have worked. But does he see it like that? Nope. He still hates you. Have another long sip my dear for the “Heartbreaker” that he called you.
Remi. Not your fault that you couldn’t trust him. You never actually dated the guy; he was way too shady and you liked him too much. He was ready to date and then you weren’t. Then you were and he wasn’t. Small sip this time, you really can’t tell if his heart was really broken.
Chris. You both didn’t think too much; if you did, you wouldn’t have gone into it. Both of you. It was fun but of course it didn’t last. You both didn’t expect it to. Stage/personality difference. You had to end it for the good of both of you. Any longer and it’d have been messy. Rather, messier. If he’s honest, he’d agree. But no. You took the step, you take the fall. “Heartbreaker.” Deep long sip darling, you cared deeply. You still do.
Ah Zeus. Zeus Zeus Zeus. (For better understanding: No Love For Z) What can you say? You tried, Lord knows you did. He never really came out to say “Hearbreaker”. But every time you looked into his eyes…empty the glass here love; this one was your loss.
Now pour another glass. And down it all.
This one’s for all those other hearts you didn’t ask for. “TAKE YOUR PORCELAIN FROM MY HANDS”, you told them. “I DO NOT WANT IT!”
But no. They kept thrusting it into your hands. “Take it from me”, you pleaded. But they shoved it in your face. You shoved it back. They shoved it back. You handed it over gently. They didn’t want to take it back. Then it slipped and fell. Broke into tiny little pieces. Of course you got blamed.
Heartbreaker.
It doesn’t matter that you cried your eyes out each time. Doesn’t matter that you still do sometimes. Doesn’t matter that it hurts when you look around and there’s no one there. When you need someone to talk to. Or just be there. Like the night your cousin died.
No honey, tonight you shed no tears; have a sip instead.
Heartbreaker.
I hear Karma hunts your kind.
Empty your glass. Pour yourself another. Now put your feet up, cross your ankles and look her in the eye.
“Bring it on bitch.”
Chronicles of DANIA 
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