A Letter to the Man I Thought I'd Marry

Heartbreak is a funny thing.

It feels as if it will kill us, and then suddenly it's years later and we realize that person who broke our heart hasn't crossed our mind in who knows when. Sometimes we'll be reminded of it, even if we're with our next love, and it'll bring us to our knees. Other days it'll simply feel like nostalgia, a fond memory of younger days, or a precious memory. And then other times that person will simply march back into our lives and before we have time to blink we'll be consumed again with a relationship that no longer exists.

This love of mine and I met, as many lovers do, in college. I was a freshman and terrified to even be walking the halls of my dorm. The overwhelming fear of being confronted at any moment with a "hello" from a stranger - or worse, a question of any kind - kept me from making a bundle of new friends during orientation week. But when I saw this boy outside our shared dorm building, something came over me (I might've been a tad under the influence, but we'll say it was courage) and I simply walked up to him and put my number in his phone.

That was the start of what turned out to be an 8-year relationship. It was punctuated with a breakup a couple years in, then a fiery reuniting that for some reason only intensified my love. A couple years after that, the worst heartbreak I've ever felt. I was consumed for what felt like years, but it was maybe 6 months at most, with the most incredibly painful longing, sadness, loneliness, and grief for my perfect relationship that was snatched from me. I moved away so that I could stop remembering him at every corner, every restaurant sign, every store in the mall that prompted a memory we made there.

And then...we got back together. He moved to my new city, we got an apartment together, and I was certain we'd be together forever. We talked about baby names, laughed every minute, and cuddled on the couch watching TV at night. It was a dream. Until once again, it was ripped away from me. This time, less painful. This time, because I felt he wasn't into it as much as I was. This time, because I wanted freedom.

From that point on, we had an interesting couple of years trying to navigate space apart, being friends, a few "almost intimate" moments, and ultimately a friendship that I held near and dear to my heart. I was so proud of us. Who else could successfully remain best friends with their ex? Who else could have such a strong bond? Who else could be honest with each other the way we were? I held it to an ideal and compared, consciously or otherwise, every new person I met to that ideal.

But to my surprise - though certainly no one's who's reading this now - life threw me another curveball. On a heroic spree of honesty and clearing his conscious, he revealed to me that he had cheated on me. Throughout our entire relationship. I didn't ask for details. In the moment, I was okay. I was angry but okay. And then I got angrier. Angrier and angrier by the hour because how could he? How could he tell me I was his "person" and he still loved me and still thought about us being together again someday? And how could he have betrayed me? And why oh WHY did he choose to confess after so many years of getting away with it? What was the point?

I'm not sure if I'll want to ask those questions, to be honest. The better part of me tells me that conversation would be fruitless. The whys and hows of other people's behavior don't need to consume all of my mental energy. But if I ever decide that I want to break open that geode, here's what I would say.

Dear Man I Thought I Would Marry,

First, I have questions. Why? What was going through your mind when you imagined me sleeping at home in our shared bed, in our shared apartment, and then proceeded to share your most intimate self with someone else? What was going through your mind every time I called you out for acting distant, for not inviting me, for being vague as hell - and then you snapped at me in return? How did you feel knowing that I felt like I was crazy? How did you feel knowing that was your end goal? Why wouldn't you just tell me that you wanted to sleep with other people? Or shit, why didn't you just take the easy route the first time around and break up with me and then leave me the hell alone?

Why did you keep telling me you loved me more than anyone else?

What was it about me that let you do all of those things? What is it about YOU that let you do all of those things?

Second. The damage.

Before you confessed, you were my standard by which to measure others. The way I felt with you was the feeling I chased in every other person I met after you. If I couldn't laugh with them like I laughed with you, then what was the point?

If I couldn't talk about nothing with them like I could with you, were they worth it?

If they didn't make me feel as safe and comfortable as I felt with you...don't bother.

But now I feel like a flaming idiot. What happened to my divine intuition? How could I have let myself be so manipulated and overcome by you that I didn't figure it out during all those years? I gave you my full and complete trust. For what?

I question myself.

I feel embarrassed. Shamed.

And I'm trying to see this new man. The first one that I felt could actually be a real thing. And everything in me is wondering about him all the time. Is he for real? Does he mean it? Is he with someone else? Am I missing red flags?

I didn't think those things about you when I should have been.

He's slipping through my fingers and I can't help but think it was something that I did. Something wrong with me. And not in the "oh I'm not pretty/smart/funny/sexy/wild enough for him" kind of way but in a "I wonder if this is life teaching me a lesson about my own emotional insecurities and that I need to develop a more secure attachment style"...kind of way. Specific enough?

But seriously. I'm working on undoing damage and healing from a betrayal only revealed to me after I thought I was already fucking over you. And what did you get out of it? A clear conscience? Congratulations. Because though your mind may be clear now, mine is filled with questions and accusations and nasty things that I usually pride myself on not holding onto.

I'm suddenly a different kind of person. A person that's been cheated on. A person that's been friend-zoned and ghosted by every man she thought she had real chemistry with since you. I know it's life, and I know too many people can relate, but this is my bitter letter.

Because I wanted to be different. I wanted our relationship to have been good, to remain a happy memory, and now it's stained.

And while what I do with this information is completely up to me, I still would like to extend my kindest most heartfelt -

Fuck you.

Sincerely,

The Woman You Pushed Away