I Was Dumped For The Same Girl Twice

When I was a teenager, I was dumped for the same girl... twice.

The first time, I was able to talk myself through it by saying things like, "She's blonde. I'm not blonde. She's way shorter than I am. Maybe some guys like girls who are mini M&Ms instead of normal-sized. Isn't everything cuter when it's smaller?" Sniffle. "Some day I'll meet a guy who likes normal-sized brunettes who thinks I'm amazing! WAH!"

When it happened the second time... None of the old, comforting phrases held any water. I was livid. Like, seeing red, ready to draw blood without any regard for whose blood it was, even if it was my own. Livid.

So... Time passed, and nothing happened to comfort me for the cruelty of being dumped for the same girl twice. I don't think anyone tried. The guy who did it certainly didn't think it was on him to apologize. I think most people were oblivious to the insult I received. I certainly didn't talk about it.

After I had been an adult for a good long time, I decided to go on a journey of healing. Any old injury or pain needed to be addressed and patched until it was 100% gone. No more grudges. No more little hurts. Just me, a whole person without any unseen wounds behind my ears.

So I googled her.

Stupid idea.

Stupid idea.

Stupid idea.

She was an author and a way more successful author than me at that. If I thought it hurt to be dumped for her twice, I was wrong. So wrong. I was so jealous and angry, I was inflamed. I snapped my laptop shut after looking at her dumb face, her blonde hair, and her super short stature. I couldn't stand to lose at the two things I'm best at in the whole world to the same person. It was too much. I can lose at love, and I can lose at writing, but not to the same person. Not on repeat. It was too much for me to stand. I breathed flames for days.

This story has an interesting ending.

Eventually, I cooled down, googled her again, and read about her properly instead of acting like my own mouth didn't get burned when I breathed fire.

It wasn't the same person. She was short, blonde, she had exactly the same name, favored the same kind of haircut, they were even the same age, but it wasn't her. I went on a quest and found the real woman on Facebook. They looked alike. But it wasn't the same person.

What had the misunderstanding shown me about myself? A lot.

The misunderstanding made it clear to me that those old hurts were so far in the distance in my rearview mirror that they honestly didn't matter anymore. The guy who dumped me for that girl twice has become wildly unimportant.

I finally got the comfort I had been craving because the situation put something that used to matter to me right beside something that matters to me now. So I'm back to languishing on my gold pile and muttering to myself about how lucky I am not to have to go to war with myself. I always lose.

If I always lose when I fight against myself, who can win? That got me thinking about that girl from my distant past, and instantly, I was a little worried for her.

Why?

If that old girl from high school looked me up, it is entirely possible that she might have the same reaction seeing my Facebook profile. That she'd see my name, see my picture, flip out, and snap her laptop shut. Why would she flip out, you wonder? Let me tell you... Because that girl loved that guy who dumped me twice so much. I think she liked him much more than I did. She was shattered when they broke up... Both times. And if she looked me up, she would undoubtedly see that I have his last name. It would take quite a bit of digging to uncover that I did not marry the guy who dumped me twice--but his brother.