The movies lie. They make it look so easy and empowering to walk away from the guy who gets your panties in a twist. In reality, you spend the whole time alternating between wanting to run back to him and berating yourself for being an idiot. I don't feel empowered at all. Just a little nauseated, actually. And sweaty, of course.
The movies don't usually focus much on the time after the whole "walking away" thing, either - at least not enough to prepare me for the torture of the next couple of days. In the movies, the girl makes her big exit, then she waits smugly for the man to realize what he has to lose. One grand romantic gesture later, and the two of them are free to live happily ever after.