Explanation: After breaking up, both boys and girls will cry a lot, so they always have to have tissues.
Love is one of the most powerful emotions a human being can feel. It brings joy, excitement, and a deep sense of connection. But when love ends, it can also bring pain, sorrow, and heartbreak. For those who have never been in love, the idea of a breakup might seem simple—just move on, right? But anyone who has ever truly loved knows that it’s never that easy.
If you’ve never been in love, you might not understand why people cry over lost relationships, why heartbreak feels so devastating, or why something as simple as a tissue box can symbolize so much. But let’s dive deeper into the emotional reality of breakups and why they hit so hard.
Why Breakups Hurt So Much
Love isn’t just about feelings—it’s a biological, emotional, and psychological experience. When you lose someone you love, you’re not just losing a person; you’re losing a part of your daily life, your dreams, and sometimes even your sense of self.
1. The Emotional Bond Gets Severed
When two people are in love, they build a strong emotional bond. They share memories, routines, and inside jokes. When a breakup happens, that bond is suddenly ripped apart, leaving a void that feels impossible to fill.
2. Love Changes the Brain
Scientists have found that love affects the brain similarly to addictive substances. When you’re in love, your brain releases chemicals like dopamine and oxytocin, which make you feel happy and connected. When a breakup happens, those feel-good chemicals suddenly disappear, leading to withdrawal-like symptoms.
Video : 6 Signs You Were Never in Love
3. The Pain Feels Physical
Heartbreak isn’t just emotional—it’s physical. Studies have shown that emotional pain from a breakup activates the same parts of the brain as physical pain. That’s why people say things like, “It feels like my heart is breaking.” It’s not just a figure of speech; it’s a real, measurable sensation.
Why Both Men and Women Cry After a Breakup
There’s a common stereotype that women cry after breakups while men just move on. But in reality, both genders experience heartbreak, even if they express it differently.
1. Women Process Emotions Immediately
Many women allow themselves to feel the pain right away. They cry, talk to their friends, and express their emotions. This helps them heal faster because they confront their feelings head-on.
2. Men Suppress Their Feelings—But Not Forever
Men, on the other hand, often suppress their emotions initially. They might try to distract themselves with work, hobbies, or even new relationships. But eventually, the sadness catches up with them. Many men admit that their emotions hit hardest weeks or even months after the breakup.
3. The Tissues Are for Everyone
The viral meme that shows a tissue box for both men and women after a breakup is a humorous way of saying that, in the end, heartbreak doesn’t discriminate. Everyone experiences pain, and tears don’t care about gender.
The Stages of Heartbreak Everyone Goes Through
If you’ve never been in love, you might wonder why breakups seem so dramatic. But people who have loved and lost go through a very real emotional process.
1. Denial
At first, it doesn’t seem real. You might think, “Maybe they’ll come back,” or, “This is just temporary.” The mind struggles to accept the new reality.
2. Anger
Once reality sinks in, frustration follows. Questions like “Why did this happen?” or “How could they do this to me?” run through the mind. Some people lash out, while others keep their anger bottled up.
3. Bargaining
People start thinking about what they could have done differently. They might even try to fix things with their ex, hoping to undo the pain.
4. Depression
This is where the tears come in. The loneliness, the memories, and the loss hit the hardest. This is the stage where those tissue boxes get used the most.
5. Acceptance
Finally, time heals. People start to move on, rebuild their lives, and maybe even open their hearts to love again.
Video : 6 Signs You Were Never In Love
What People Who’ve Never Been in Love Miss Out On
If you’ve never been in love, you might not understand why breakups are so painful—but you also don’t know the beauty of love itself.
- The Joy of Connection – There’s nothing like having someone who understands you on a deep level.
- The Highs and Lows – Love is a rollercoaster, but the highs make it worth it.
- The Strength It Builds – Heartbreak hurts, but it teaches resilience, self-worth, and the ability to love again.
Final Thoughts: Love Is Worth the Pain
For those who have never been in love, it might be hard to understand why breakups hurt so much. But ask anyone who has truly loved and lost—they wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Because even though love can bring heartbreak, it also brings some of life’s most beautiful moments.
And in the end? Those tissue boxes are just a small price to pay for the incredible experience of love.
I Fell for My Daughter-in-Law’s Grumpy Neighbor, but Thanksgiving Exposed the Awful Truth About Our Relationship – Story of the Day
Living with my son and his unbearable wife was far from the peaceful arrangement I had imagined. But when the grumpy neighbor next door unexpectedly asked me to dinner, everything began to change. Little did I know, a secret plan was unfolding — one that would turn my life upside down.
I had been living with my son Andrew and his ever-resentful wife, Kate, for two weeks. It wasn’t an arrangement either of them had ever wanted, but my accidental, slightly exaggerated leg injury had finally forced Kate’s reluctant consent.
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She opposed it, of course—she had for years—but this time, she had no choice.
Stepping out onto the porch that morning, I spotted her in the yard, raking leaves. Watching her from a distance, I sighed. The poor girl hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing.
“Kate, you’re doing it all wrong!” I called, raising my voice. She didn’t even look up.
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I assumed she hadn’t heard, so I moved closer, wincing for effect. “I’m telling you, you’re raking them the wrong way. Start with small piles, then combine them into one big heap. Dragging them across the yard is a waste of time.”
She stopped abruptly, leaning on the rake, and turned to face me. Her face betrayed the exhaustion of carrying a child and hosting an unwanted guest.
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“I thought your leg hurt,” she said flatly, her gaze drifting to my suspiciously steady walk. “Maybe it’s time for you to go home?”
The nerve of her! Clutching my leg for emphasis, I replied indignantly, “I was trying to help you, despite the pain, and this is how you thank me?”
Kate rested a hand on her belly, the protective gesture unmistakable. “I’m seven months pregnant. Helping would mean actually doing something useful,” she said, her voice sharper than the autumn air.
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Rude, I thought, but I forced a tight smile. She wasn’t worth the argument.
Across the fence, Mr. Davis, their grouchy neighbor, shuffled into view, his perpetual scowl in place.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Davis!” I chirped, trying to soften his hard expression. He grumbled something under his breath and disappeared into his house without so much as a nod. Just like Kate—miserable and unsociable.
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Back inside, I noticed dust on the furniture again. Kate was on maternity leave—surely, she could spare time to clean. Andrew deserved a better-kept home after all his hard work.
Later, Kate returned to the house and started preparing dinner. Naturally, I offered her a few helpful tips, but my advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Eventually, she turned and said coldly, “Please, just leave the kitchen.”
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That evening, as Andrew came through the door, I heard her complaining to him. Leaning close to the wall, I caught snippets of their conversation.
“We discussed this,” Andrew said, his tone measured. “It’ll benefit everyone.”
“I know,” Kate replied with a weary sigh. “I’m already trying, but it’s harder than you think.”
When I peeked around the corner, I saw Andrew embracing her, his arms wrapped protectively around her growing belly. He comforted her as if she were the victim here!
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At dinner, I couldn’t resist pointing out that her pie was undercooked.
“I have an idea,” Kate said suddenly, her tone too cheerful to be genuine. “Why don’t you bake a pie yourself and bring it to Mr. Davis?”
I frowned. “That grump? He doesn’t even greet me,” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at her.
“I think you’re mistaken. He’s not so bad—just shy,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
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I laughed, the sound hollow. “If that’s true, he’s the one who should make the first move. A man should court a lady.”
Kate sighed, her gaze shifting to Andrew, who squeezed her hand as if sharing a secret.
The next morning, the last thing I expected was to see Mr. Davis approaching the yard.
“Margaret,” he began stiffly, his posture as awkward as his tone. “Would you… well… have dinner with me?”
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“For you, it’s Miss Miller,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
His lips twitched in frustration. “Alright, Miss Miller,” he corrected himself. “Would you allow me to invite you to dinner?”
“I allow it,” I said, crossing my arms. He nodded curtly and turned to leave.
“Is that how you invite someone?” I called after him, watching him freeze mid-step. “When? Where?”
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“Tonight at seven. My house,” he said without turning back.
The rest of the day was a flurry of preparation. By seven sharp, I stood at his door, my heart unexpectedly fluttering. When he opened the door, his expression was as grim as ever.
Inside, he gestured for me to sit at the table. Not even a pulled-out chair—some gentleman.
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During dinner, the conversation was stilted until I mentioned my love for jazz. His face transformed, his usual gloom replaced by a boyish enthusiasm.
“I’d play my favorite record for you,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’d even invite you to dance, but my record player’s broken.”
“You don’t need music to dance,” I said, surprising myself.
To my astonishment, he rose and extended his hand. As we swayed in the dim light, he hummed a familiar tune, one I hadn’t heard in years. Something inside me softened, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel alone.
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Afterward, I turned to him. “Mr. Davis, it’s getting late. I should go home.”
He nodded silently, his usual reserved demeanor returning, and walked me to the door.
Before I stepped outside, he hesitated. “You can call me Peter,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
“And you can call me Margaret,” I replied, smiling.
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Then, to my astonishment, he leaned in. For a moment, I froze, uncertain, but when his lips brushed mine, I realized I didn’t want to pull away.
The kiss was gentle and hesitant, but it stirred something I hadn’t felt in years.
As he pulled back, he searched my face for a reaction. I simply smiled, my heart lighter than it had been in ages.
“Good night, Peter,” I said softly, stepping outside. The cool night air met my flushed cheeks, but the smile stayed on my face all the way home—and long after.
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Peter became an irreplaceable part of my days. We spent hours together, laughing over neighborhood gossip, reading books from his vast collection, and trying our hands at new recipes.
While I cooked, he’d hum my favorite songs, filling the house with warmth.
I found a joy I hadn’t known in years, a quiet contentment that made everything else fade.
Kate’s sharp remarks no longer bothered me; my world revolved around Peter.
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On Thanksgiving, I invited him to dinner so he wouldn’t spend the day alone. I noticed him slipping into the kitchen to speak with Kate. Curious, I followed.
“Kate, I wanted to talk to you about the record player,” Peter said, his voice hesitant but firm.
“Mr. Davis, I’ve already ordered it. It’ll arrive soon. You have no idea how grateful I am,” Kate replied with a hint of relief. “You’ve made my life so much easier. I don’t know how you put up with her, but soon the record player will be yours. Thank you for agreeing to this whole charade.”
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The words hit me like a slap. A record player? Putting up with me? A charade? The realization burned through me as anger surged.
“So, this was all a game?!” I burst into the kitchen, my voice trembling with fury.
Kate froze, her face pale. “Oh…” was all she managed.
“Care to explain?!” I shouted, my gaze darting between her and Peter.
Andrew rushed in, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s going on?”
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“Your wife concocted some scheme against me!” I exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Kate.
Andrew sighed deeply. It was as if he was bracing himself for a storm. “Mom, it wasn’t just her. It was my idea too. We thought you and Mr. Davis might make each other happy. Neither of you would have made the first move, so we gave him a little… encouragement.”
“Encouragement?” I repeated, my voice rising.
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“We offered him a record player,” Andrew admitted, his tone measured but guilty. “In exchange for going on dates with you.”
“Andrew, why?” Kate whispered.
“At least my son is honest with me!” I snapped, crossing my arms.
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“Your son was also at his wit’s end with you!” Kate shot back, her voice tinged with frustration. “You were constantly interfering in our lives, nitpicking every little thing I did. And I’m pregnant with your grandchild—I couldn’t handle the stress! So yes, we came up with this plan, and it worked perfectly. You finally had something to do, and I got a break!”
Her words hung in the air, stinging more than I cared to admit. I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. “You know what, Peter? I could have expected this from her. But not from you.”
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“Margaret, I can explain…” Peter began, stepping toward me.
But I was too angry to listen. I stormed out of the house, my old leg injury reminding me of its presence with every step.
“Margaret!” Peter called after me. “Margaret, wait!”
Spinning around, I glared at him. “What?! What could you possibly say? I’m too old for these games!”
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He stopped, his face clouded with regret. “I told Kate I didn’t need her record player! That I just wanted to be with you!” he shouted, his voice raw with emotion.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you agreed to it at first,” I retorted, my voice trembling.
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“Because you were awful!” Peter snapped, then softened. “Or at least, that’s what I thought. I heard how you constantly picked on Kate, always telling her what to do. But the truth is, I wasn’t any better—grumpy, closed off, and bitter. You changed me, Margaret. You made me feel alive again. You reminded me how to find joy in the little things.”
I hesitated, his words piercing through my anger. “Why should I believe you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
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Peter stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Because I’ve fallen for you, Margaret. For the meticulous, bossy, always-right woman who also cares so deeply, who cooks meals that feel like home, and who knows all my favorite songs by heart. I love you—all of you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, his confession shaking me to my core. The truth was undeniable—I had fallen for him too. No matter how furious I was, my feelings wouldn’t let me walk away.
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He reached out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry for hurting you. Please, give me a second chance.”
I nodded slowly, letting the tension ease. “Alright,” I said, my voice softening. “But you’re keeping that record player from Kate. We’ll need it for our music.” Peter laughed, relief and joy washing over his face.
From that Thanksgiving on, Peter and I were inseparable. Each year, we celebrated the holiday with music playing on that record player, our love growing stronger with every tune.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: While navigating a difficult divorce, Ellis meets a bold young man at a bar who offers to transform her life. His charm and confidence seem like the perfect distraction, but their connection soon leads to unexpected revelations that force Ellis to confront her past — and her family — in ways she never anticipated.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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