Happy New Year everyone! I need to start by saying that the Christmas time was extremely busy for me and that’s why I took a short break off blogging. There was no new episode of my You are what you eat series last week, but it will be coming tomorrow. Now, however, I’d like to talk about something else. I’ve mentioned a few times on this blog my failed relationship. Today, it’s been exactly a year since the breakup. And on that occasion, I thought I’d share the story with you.
I have to admit I used to be one of those believing that love only happens to everyone once and lasts a lifetime. I thought it was simply impossible to stop loving someone. Sadly, now I know how wrong I was.
I was in a relationship for nearly 3 years. We had both good and bad times, like every couple does, but I was convinced it would be the relationship for life. Unfortunately, with my caring nature, I soon got into the giver’s spot in that relation, while my ex-boyfriend stayed on a receiver’s position. And although I didn’t mind giving the loved person all the best, it wasn’t a balanced situation. Before I realised, it got to the point where all my effort was taken as a given and I couldn’t expect anything in return. Not that I had high expectations, but when, from time to time, I hoped for something small or asked him to do me a favor, it either went unlistened or was done with a lot of suffering and complaining. And each situation like that only led me to lowering my expectations even more, ending up being left without any. Now I clearly see how bad it was, but even then I had that thought somewhere in the back of my head.
A month or two before Christmas 2015, I started to feel that the relationship was slowly but surely heading to its end. I didn’t want to believe in that and I was trying to push the last bits of hope to the top of my mind, but deep inside I knew it was going to end. I still loved him then, and I loved him many months after. But the day I found out he didn’t love me was the coldest day in my life, for many reasons. November 2015. Me, my ex-boyfriend and his best friend were hanging out in town. The plan was to go to a bar or two and just chat and enjoy ourselves. However, the two got a better idea mid-evening. They had a friend who then worked in a small petrol station in the suburbs – they wanted to go and visit him there. On most days I wouldn’t mind that. But that day was the beginning of winter, the weather was awful and the temperature was very low. And I was not prepared to spend the evening outdoors (the station only had a small cabin for the employees, we couldn’t all get inside). I have to say here that my cold tolerance is far below average – I’m the kind of person who often wears a jumper in 30°C cause it’s not warm enough to take it off. In winter, I can wear the thickest clothes I can find in stores and I’ll still be shaking and turning into a human icicle. And on that day I wasn’t even wearing the thickest coat, as winter came unexpectedly after a few warm weeks. Maybe it sounds silly, but physically it was one of the worst experiences of my life – spending around an hour trapped in the suburbs of my town, literally shaking from cold, because of an unplanned visit my company decided to pay their friend. I didn’t want to ruin their time so I just suffered in silence, jumping from foot to foot and walking in circles to warm up my body just a little bit. I didn’t want to say anything out loud, but soon it became clear how hard of a time I was having. And then I saw it. My ex looked at me, and in his eyes I saw ice, colder than the air between us. He didn’t say a single word, but his eyes did. ‘Stop being cold, can’t you see I’m having fun here?’. I realise how silly it sounds. But we were 24. Mature, adults. And he saw nothing wrong in me literally freezing because of his impromptu idea for some ‘fun’ meeting.
We stayed in the relationship for a while after that event. Christmas came and our tradition was to discuss the main gifts with each other, so that we could both get something we wanted or needed instead of a bunch of random, not necessarily needed or liked stuff. He had a very specific choice of the main gift he’d like to get, but only one online store sold it at that time. He sent me a link to the item saying he was aware that the gift would most likely arrive after Christmas. That’s indeed what happened, and January came. We decided to go to a cafe, where I could give him the gift and where we could spend a nice afternoon. Also, it happened to be the same cafe we went to on our very first date 3 years earlier. And those were the only two times we were there. The first, and what later turned out to be the last date.
We’d been in the cafe for around and hour, having a nice, argument-free time, when he said he didn’t feel well. He insisted on going to our homes and meeting again the day after or so. That’s what we did.
I got back home, got on my PC. So did he. And like always, we talked there… kinda. Basically, he just wrote to me to break up.
A 24-year-old educated man with a serious job, broke up with his girlfriend of 3 years on an online chat, right after taking her to the place where they went on their first date and having collected his Christmas gift. 2 weeks later, he spent a weekend around 300 kilometres away from home, with his new girlfriend.
We met twice after that, accidentally, many weeks later, and only exchanged a few words.
Looking back and trying to be objective, I did nothing to deserve that. And even if there were situations in which I did something wrong, I still believe that no one deserves being treated like that. One day you’re happy with your partner of a few years, the next day you get dumped via and online chat and never meet them again until some awkward moment months later.
The way it all ended should have shown me his real value. But although now I can say he was an asshole who never really respected me as a person, after the break-up I was completely devastated. Like, completely. I spent the first two weeks in bed. Crying, refusing to eat anything else than my sedative pills, crying some more and getting nearly no sleep due to my heart beating as if it was gonna try to escape from my body. I would have stayed there for even longer, if it wasn’t for my finals at uni and a terrifying possibility of failing my life even more. I’d still have sleep problems and occasionally burst into tears for the next ~6 months. And even then, it only started to slowly heal.
After a whole year, I don’t know if I can say I’m entirely fine. I do clearly realise that he wasn’t worth me and my love. But on the other hand, it was my first that serious and long relationship. I had plans for the future and I have plenty of good memories, mostly from the beginning of it. It’s not something I’d like to erase from my head – I definitely learnt a lot from it. But at the same time, I was unable to smile and have any kind of fun for like half a year after it all got ruined. Also, I’m in the age when many girls get proposed to/get married or even already have their own house and a kid or two. And it feels so bad and hopeless that I’m all alone.
As I said, a few months ago I started to slowly recover from this whole situation. I changed my environment and spend time with new friends, and it feels great and refreshing. I can genuinely laugh and have fun, something that I was nearly sure I’d never experience again.
New Year’s resolution? I’d like to write a part 2 of this story next January, in which I can sincerely say I’ve recovered and, most importantly, I’m happy with my life.