I Let Him Break My Heart
April 15th, 2018
I’m not sorry that I’m scared I’ll never love someone as much as I loved you.
About a year ago, I developed a huge crush on a boy who had a girlfriend. We worked together. We’ll call him Gavin. It was obvious he had feelings for me too.
I was miserable. I was at the tail-end of a four-year relationship, experiencing some of the worst anxiety of my life. I had no appetite, my heart rate was always too high, and talking to Gavin was the only thing that calmed me down.
We’d been emotionally invested in one another for months. In a moment of weakness, I told him we had to talk about what was happening between us. I felt like I was going to explode if we didn't. He already knew so much about me. I had never vibed with someone so easily and candidly. He said all the right things.
Things like: “Look, I think you’re so great, and the support and interest you’ve shown in my life has been super meaningful to me.”
And: “I can see myself getting lost in crazy parts of the world with you.”
And: “You smell like fresh laundry and honestly it’s so sexy.”
This conversation lasted for five hours. But he had a girlfriend. I had a boyfriend. We agreed we needed to reel it in and think about our existing relationships, regardless of how we felt about each other.
My relationship ended three weeks later. It was gut-wrenching and painfully sad. But it felt like the right decision, and still does today. We simply outgrew each other. It sucks.
After my relationship ended, I spent six weeks in the shadows of Gavin’s life. He told me he knew he would end up kissing me, as he leaned in to kiss me for the second time, while still in a relationship. This emotional affair quickly became physical. I think half of the pain is whiplash. We texted non-stop every day. I hid away with him in my sheets. I daydreamed about our future together. I knew things wouldn’t end in my favor. I knew his actual relationship would never end. I knew I could never trust him. But I still fell fast and hard.
He told me he loved my companionship. He told me he loved how confident I was naked. He told me it broke his heart when I cried. He told me he wanted to kiss me goodnight on my baby hairs.
When things did end, he held me as I cried, kissing my arm as I cradled his head. He made it clear he couldn’t communicate with me, but made multiple attempts to anyway. He wouldn’t take his eyes off me. He’s from the Midwest and talked about bringing his motorcycle to the city. I felt like he’d chained me to the bike and dragged me around in the dirt for six weeks. He wouldn’t let me go. I pulled him aside and told him it hurt me to look at him. I needed this to be done. I hated waking up, because that brief moment before I was really awake was the only time I wasn’t aware of how shitty this felt. I wanted to forget him. I still do. I told a friend that I’d trade my memories of him with empty pain and sadness. There’s nothing worse than being responsible for putting yourself in a painful position. I hated myself for doing this to another woman.
After six more weeks of no speaking, longing stares, and uncomfortable run-ins, I hand wrote him a six-page letter which outlined every reason why I fell in love with him, and explained that I knowingly let him break my heart. I begged him to never do this to anyone else. I told him that he’ll never understand how badly it hurts to be his secret. I gave it to him on his last day at our office. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
There are scars and there is damage. That's what happens when you let yourself be more vulnerable than you've ever been before. There are so many more horrible details. Details like: he’s six years older than me. Details like: he’s in a long distance relationship. Details like: this whole thing happened while she was home for the summer. Not a day goes by that he doesn't cross my mind. I know I fucked up. But I wish I had the words to describe how badly he hurt me without sounding completely melodramatic. But it honestly does feel like he ripped my heart out of my chest, put it in a blender, and handed it back to me.
And yes, they are still together.
And no, she has no idea about me.
I am not sorry for falling in love with you.
I am not sorry for reliving every single moment we ever shared.
I am not sorry for rereading every single text before I deleted them all.
I am not sorry for the things I said or did that make me cringe when I think about them now, because you always made me feel like they were appropriate and welcomed.
I am not sorry that I wanted to love you with my whole heart and body.
I am not sorry for hating you. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.
I'm not sorry for following my heart.
I'm not sorry for taking a risk.
I'm not sorry for this experience. I know it was painful, and awful, and heartbreaking.
I’m not sorry for being sad about my ex. Falling in love with someone else doesn’t negate my feelings for someone I shared four years of my life with. I wish my friends were more cognisant of that.
I know I don’t have to hate myself for being miserable in my last relationship. I know I don’t have to hate myself for being the other woman. I know I’ll heal. I know I’ll love myself again. I know, eventually, I’ll trust someone again. And I know that when the time is right, I’ll fall in love again. But, for now…
I’m. Not. Sorry.