If Jose Mourinho wants the Manchester United job, this is the advice he needs to hear

If you haven’t read, there’s a report that Jose Mourinho penned a six page letter, front and back, for Manchester United detailing how he would change his ways and take the team forward if given the chance.

Sigh. I like to think that Mourinho and I are alike: we’re both handsome, brilliant sociopaths, and as such I feel as if I have to advise him during these tough times. Because while Mourinho is an expert on numerous subjects of life, he doesn’t seem to be very good at dealing with heartbreak and moving on.

What he just did here was Peak Drake. You never go Peak Drake:

I should call one and go home
I’ve been in this club too long
The woman that I would try, is happy with a good guy
But I’ve been drinking so much
That I’ma call her anyway and say

This is the Hail Mary attempt. This is being at the strip club at 2 a.m., unable to enjoy yourself. Numb to the nudity, the flying single dollar bills, the endless bottles of champagne, the forced smiles and laughter, you escape to the bathroom. You wash your hands and face, look in the mirror and see your true self. You are sad. Your heart wells up and the dams of your eyes can no longer withstand the pressure. First a sniffle, then you’re grabbing and shaking your head seconds later as the tears come crashing down like the relationship you thought was perfect. You miss her.

But you can’t go back to her, can you? This was your second chance. The one you begged for. The one you kept pining for, especially when she moved on to men who were nothing but fake copies of you. Andre Villas-Boas. Pffft. Then she finally relented and allowed you back in. And things were going well weren’t they? The first year together again was amazing. You rediscovered what made you fall in love in the first place: she loved and defended your paranoia as a mark of genius and you rewarded this belief by helping her reach her goals. You won together.

But, oh Jose, you and I know that you would fall back into the same old troubles. Once things got rough, you became toxic again. All you could think of was yourself -- your needs, your reputation, you, you, you! And you were so involved in yourself that you didn’t even entertain the idea that she would leave you again. Till she did.

Now you’re crying on the floor of a strip club bathroom with snot dripping down your face, ready to risk it all with that other girl that you always had a thing for. Look at yourself, man. You’re writing a six-page letter, front and back, about how you’ll change, as if she just didn’t see you crash and burn in your last relationship.

I’m just sayin’ you could do better
Tell me have you heard that lately?
I’m just sayin’ you could do better
And I’ll start hatin’ only if you make me

I understand where you’re at, Jose, because I’ve been there myself.

After the girl who I thought was the love of my life broke things off in college, I was distraught. Hurt! Beside myself! Destroyed even. Jose, she went on Livejournal -- where I only created an account to follow her thoughts -- and she wrote that she hopes to one day fall in love because she’s tired of having flings. Two days after we were over.

Jose, I was so shattered that I felt like Usher in “Moving Mountains” after he climbed to the peak of said mountain in the biting cold and just fell to his knees, hopeless and beaten. I was walking through the streets like Akon in “Lonely,” telling the world and no one in particular that I had nobody (nobody), to call my own (call my ooooooooown!).

I spent the next two months after that going to the drive-in, drinking an incalculable amount of Jack Daniels, and punching the air before dry-heaving and falling asleep. I was you, Jose.

The old African-American proverb says: “To get over an old girl, gotta get a new one”.

I get it though, you’ve never had to deal with rejection before. You’ve never been told that you weren’t good enough and now, with that reality evident, you don’t know how to cope. As a fellow almost-perfect human being, I sympathize with you.

But you can’t just go all-in with a six page letter. You look desperate, and I know you are, but you have to pretend otherwise. Play it cool man, damn.

But did I put on the shooting sleeve and write a six-page letter about how she should choose me when the whole world just saw me sleeping on the floor and watching old French movies? No. I thought I was better for her, just like you think you’re a much better fit for United. But that’s selfish, Jose. You’re still too self-involved and it’s leading you to being creepy.

You have to relax. Put the pen away. Accept that you are a mortal who hurts just like the others, that some people are going to want you and many more are going to reject you. Focus on yourself. Set some new goals. Get back in the gym. Write that novel that you always wanted to. Find out who you are, what really makes you happy, what drives you.

Do that so that when you meet her in the grocery store years later after she’s broken up with her van Gaal, she doesn’t remember you as that pathetic slob of human waste that wouldn’t stop writing her letters. Do that so that instead of fleeing the very prospect of eye contact, you can just ask her out to dinner. Which she will agree to because you’ve convinced her that eventually you two can do great things together.

And after everything’s been going well for a little while, you’ll get a better offer and leave her in the same way that the first love left you. Hurt people hurt people. But that’s beside the point. The lesson here is that you have to be more “U Don’t Have to Call” and less “Will Work for Love.” Go get drunk and let that hurt go. You’re making us all uncomfortable.