A long time ago, when I was just a teenager, I dated this guy.
He was wonderful — for the most part. He treated me like a queen, noticed my quirks and cherished them, appreciated my stubbornness and my passion for my beliefs. He knew me so well and I knew him. Our relationship was comfortable, beautiful, and in hindsight, quite idyllic. Just like any first love.
Of course, it didn’t end well
Me being so young, I was immature and ended things with him over a desire to be more independent.
He didn’t take it well. He started dating one of my close friends shortly thereafter and attempted to cut me out of his life.
We quit talking, for the most part. He started dating girl after girl after girl. He would lie and manipulate me and act cold. I never understood why he could flip a switch so quickly like that — to go from I-want-to-marry-you love to pretending we never existed and hurting me out of spite.
Then, about six months after the breakup, in a horrible accident, he fell and hit his head. He got a concussion and amnesia. (It sounds stranger than fiction, but I promise you, this is true.) He eventually — very gradually — got his memory back. But sadly, as a person, he was never the same.
After that, my life became about grieving not only our relationship and the loss of him as a partner, but the loss of him as a person. When someone’s whole personality changes like that, it’s like grieving them…except they’re still alive. My heart was broken in a million pieces.
I thought I might never be okay again
I thought he broke me. I thought my heart could never heal.
It took me months to be able to hear his name in a conversation without having a panic attack or wanting to burst into tears. It took me longer — years — to be able to feel fine again and be open-minded to new opportunities rather than feeling that raw heartache. But I slowly but surely made progress.
But I moved forward. About five years after the breakup, I moved to a new city and was getting my degree. I met new friends, got a new place to live. I launched this writing platform. My life felt fulfilling and calm and exciting. It was refreshing.
Oh, but then.
Eventually, he came waltzing back into my life — and I let him
This man took five years to ever apologize to me. When he finally did, it was over text (granted, I had moved away from where he lived by then, but still). I found it sweet and heartfelt. Not enough to want to be friends again, but it was nice.
And then he started talking to me more. He suggested we grab coffee if I was ever visiting town. He wanted to “catch up.”
I wasn’t interested — at first. But we started talking more, just casually and intermittently, and finally my interest was piqued. Over the holidays, he asked me out for dinner and I said yes. We went out to a nice restaurant on New Year’s Day and even grabbed dessert afterward.
The whole ordeal, unexpectedly, was wonderful. I felt that spark again, like old times. He acted just like he did when we dated. I felt just as secure and adored. He opened my car door, paid for my dinner. He held my hand in the car and smiled over at me from the driver’s seat. Everything felt right again.
At the end of the night, we kissed — among other things (but I’ll keep it PG for you). The point was, I had full-fledged accepted him back into my life.
It was all so special that I genuinely wondered if our reunion was meant to be. It was like I’d fallen for him all over again.
And then it all went downhill
I was only visiting his city for the holidays, and I was going to leave the week after we got dinner. So a few days after our “date,” I connected with him to see if he wanted to do it again.
He agreed and seemed excited. We made a plan, outlined a concrete day and time. He told me he was busy and seemed a little uncertain but assured me he wanted to make it happen.
When I followed up, though, crickets. He had ghosted me.
I was disheartened. I left town without saying goodbye.
But I gave him another second chance, and he failed again
I was back in town again during the summer and he had contacted me again shortly before I arrived. He said he wanted to do something when I was in the city and apologized profusely for last time. Patiently, I agreed.
But each time we tried to make a plan, he would either ignore me when I asked his availability, or he’d flake. Finally we got together one time. It was decent, and we had a good time. But I had this urging feeling that it wasn’t right, that I shouldn’t be accepting a guy who treated me like this.
He told me it was just because he was busy. He said there was no one else in his life who he was interested in other than me. He said I was the only person he was hooking up with, the only one he was taking out like this. He wanted things to work out between us.
I believed him. And again, I shouldn’t have.
The nail in the coffin happened last week, when I received a text from a friend about him
I left the city again recently. Of course, I didn’t get to see him before I left. Because he’d ghosted me again. This time it felt permanent. He wasn’t answering any of my messages, but he was reading them. (There’s also more to this story — I was trying to reach him about a very private yet very urgent situation, and still he ignored me.) I couldn’t believe it.
But I still believed his sordid excuses — that he was just busy, that it wasn’t personal, that it had nothing to do with him seeing other people.
And then I got a text. From a close friend.
She’d screenshotted a message from her other friend, who was asking about this guy. Apparently, the girl was making plans to go on a date and then hook up with him. She was asking my friend if she knew him so that she could verify he was a nice person before they went out.
This was the nail in the coffin for me. Not only had he remorselessly ghosted me — not once, but twice; broken my heart six years ago; and treated me like the dirt under his shoe, but he’d also lied to me through his teeth.
He was seeing other women this whole time and making more plans to meet more
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Although his second round of ghosting didn’t surprise me, since this was basically par for the course for him, the cheating and lying really did. I thought we were honest with each other. I thought, at the very least, he’d tell me the truth about seeing other people.
Because I’d asked him, point-blank, so many times. I told him each time that we weren’t exclusive, that I had no judgment whatsoever, but that I just wanted us to be on the same page. He insisted that I was the only woman in his life. He told me he was more interested in our emotional connection and he wasn’t interested in other people.
Lies. Lies, lies, lies.
And that’s the end, I suppose. I am still fuming and yet completely devastated and all of this just went down less than a week ago. I don’t know how to feel anymore.
After the whole thing, I still feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I feel like a fool. I feel like he knew he was able to manipulate me this whole time — he saw an opportunity and took it. And with all the progress I’ve made over these many years, I feel stupid for letting him back into my life and letting him ruin what I’ve made for myself again. Letting him carve a hole into my healing.
And I’m angry at him, but I am also grieving the loss of him — again. It’s like losing someone you love a whole second time.
I admit that I’m incredibly frustrated at myself for letting this happen, like I should’ve learned my lesson the first time and I was tested and failed. But I guess now I’ve learned it for sure. He isn’t worthy of my time and energy.
I think what hurts the most isn’t that I lost him, or that I don’t matter to him anymore. It’s that I sacrificed a part of myself, my own journey, my healing, and he completely dismissed that and hurt me again. It’s like I’m starting at square one.
But I realized that isn’t true. I have done so much for myself in the last half-decade. I have returned to the person I once was. I am happy again. I am full and free and I have stepped into the best version of myself.
I know now that it was never meant to be with him, if there was ever any doubt. In fact, it would’ve been a dumpster fire. Better that I erase him from my life now, before he did any further damage. Before I was tethered to him in some other irreversible way.
And I don’t feel 100% okay yet, but who ever does? I have to carve his presence out of my life for the second time and learn to be okay. And then I have to find a way to restore my hope that I may one day find someone. One who never makes me second-guess their trustworthiness or motives. One who never makes me feel anything less than adored.
I may find that someday. I’ll keep looking. But right now, I am content with myself. I know that this journey is not over for me. I had a hiccup, but I’m back on track. I am healing.
And if you’ve been through (or are going through) something similar — you are, too. Just remember that.
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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.
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I’m sorry you went through this. I’m going through a similar battle, and it really does hurt. I hope you’re getting closer to feeling whole again. You’re very right that you’re better off without someone who repeatedly treats you like this! Keep an eye out there’s a man close behind who will treat you like their queen! 🙂