We’ve all seen it happen. Two adults fall in love and decide the world must know. Suddenly, social media is flooded with pictures, videos, emojis, sweet captions, love songs, and matching Ankara. The air smells like roses.
Then—bam! The storm hits.
The same people who danced their way into love begin to tear each other apart with long Instagram captions, screenshots, unfollows, exposés, and bitter clapbacks. The rest of us, watching from the sidelines, grab our popcorn and weigh in on matters we don’t fully understand.
I don’t need to mention names—you already know the story. They’re not the first, and they certainly won’t be the last. I don’t even know all the details of what was shared, but I do know this: I get secondhand embarrassment when couples fall out publicly. I don’t want to know what kind of dirty laundry either of them has. It’s even more painful when there are children involved—kids who are old enough to follow the story and become targets of ridicule from their peers.
Love can be intoxicating. It makes us soft, vulnerable, and seen. It’s natural to want the world to know that someone special is responsible for our glow. But when self-esteem is low, there’s often a compulsive need to announce love loudly—especially if the world sees our partner as a “catch.”
But love is also fragile. When it’s young, it’s even more vulnerable. Not everything that feels strong is actually stable, and not every love story belongs on a public stage. In reality, the healthiest relationships often grow quietly, away from the noise of likes and outside opinions. When we overexpose private love, we tie our self-worth to its success. And when it fails, we don’t just hurt—we crash and burn, with an audience that doesn’t truly care about our feelings.
Heartbreak, unfortunately, doesn’t come with wisdom pre-installed. So, people spiral. They leak private conversations, throw insults, expose family secrets, and fight for sympathy, validation, or revenge. But no matter how intense the pain, it never justifies self-destruction.
Screaming online, dragging your ex’s family, or exposing intimate details doesn’t make you powerful. If anything, it reveals how much power you’ve lost—and how messy things get when filters fall away.
They say, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” But that fury can earn you labels: “crazy,” “bitter,” “unstable.” It can make people avoid you, unsure whether to befriend, date, or confide in you. For men, it’s being called “toxic,” “manipulative,” or “weak.” Either way, everyone loses when we fail to regulate our emotions.
At the end of the day, love deserves joy—but heartbreak deserves dignity.
So am I saying that people have no right to speak when their relationships fail?Not at all, please speak your truth ( though I question whether you need to at all) but speak it with maturity, not malice. Go ahead and share your story ( again only if asked or you need to clarify the damaging lies being spoken about you), but don’t center your identity around the people who hurt you, speak to the issues at hand without name calling or abuse, because the moment you let their rejection define your worth, you lose twice.
Women!!! Don’t let heartbreak drive you to desperation. Don’t start a PR campaign against someone who no longer wants you. Your tears are valid. Your rage is real but your dignity must rise above your pain.You do not need to prove anything to anyone, not even to him. Let silence say what words cannot. If you must walk away, do it quietly and with grace. Let your next season be your clapback.
Men!!! Emotional regulation is not weakness; it’s wisdom. Don’t humiliate a woman to show you’re done. Don’t announce your exit like a presidential address. Be firm, not cruel. You don’t have to destroy someone’s self-worth just because you’ve changed your mind.Even if you feel betrayed or manipulated, it costs nothing to disengage respectfully. The way you treat a woman after things fall apart says far more about you than the relationship itself ever did.
And I need to say this plainly: it’s tacky, immature, and it’s deeply insecure to parade a new relationship in the face of someone you once loved, especially when you both walk in the same circles. Posting endless reels of “soft life” with a new partner, tagging mutuals, sliding into comment sections, or suddenly becoming a motivational speaker on “knowing your worth”not because you’re healed, but because you’re trying to make someone else hurt is childish.
Listen, it’s okay to move on. In fact, I encourage it. Find joy again, open your heart, fall in love. But don’t weaponize your new relationship to prove a point. That’s not love, it’s performance and it says more about you and your unresolved wounds than your new partner’s worth especially if you still share professional spaces, mutual friends, or online communities with your ex. Healing doesn’t require humiliation. You don’t have to rub your “upgrade” in their face to validate your new beginning. The truth is – if your joy is real, you won’t need to advertise it for applause.
So how does one exit a relationship gracefully :
Resist the urge to explain yourself publicly or to anyone. Closure is personal, not performative. Don’t gather fans or friends to fight your ex. This is your pain—not a Netflix series. Take a break and give your emotions room to breathe without audience interference. Get help. A therapist, coach, or mature friend can help you sort the feelings without bitterness and lastly, focus on healing, not hurting.
The truth is – Breakups are painful but disgrace is optional. Every ending doesn’t have to become a spectacle. Every disappointment doesn’t require a dragged-out battle.Whether you’re the one leaving or the one being left, you can choose dignity. You can cry and scream into your pillow behind closed doors but still walk into the world with your head held high.
Dignity may not trend, but it always wins.
To all those yet to be ex-lovers please take note- Many of us are tired of all the dirty linen being washed in the open and frankly speaking, we do not give a damn.