It’s been a month and three days since he dumped me.
That very morning he had made love to me and held me in his arms telling me he loves me.
That very afternoon he told me how excited he was about our Thanksgiving plans and other plans.
That evening he told me the realtionship was “too hard” and “too painful”—that “he’ll always love me” but can’t do it anymore. He cried and said he was sorry. I begged him over two hours not to end it.
He stopped crying, I was clinging to him, he physically extracted himself from me, and his last words to me as he walked out my door and my life were “see ya.”
I can’t believe he actually said that.
We were together for two and a half years. Engaged for the last 6 months. The relationship was so often a struggle. He was divorced with two kids. He felt guilty about initiating the divorce and was largely consumed with seeing his kids and doing stuff for them. I always played second fiddle. I was never the priority. (The kids really liked me, and I liked them. They didn’t make this a big deal, he did.)
He could be extremely difficult and cold and distant. But he could also be so wonderful. In many ways I felt we were perfect for each other. I loved him so much, and I believe that he loved me.
He told me so often that he loves me, and was physically affectionate, the best snuggler in the whole entire world. We were always excited about going to bed together, even if we were both too tired for sex, just snuggling and falling asleep together was always a treat for both of us.
I’m so scared I’ll never have that again. And I can’t imagine it with anyone else.
I know I shouldn’t be pining for him—there were many things wrong with the relationship. He was a coward and a weakling. He lied to me. He finally admitted that for a long time he had wanted to end it, yet he kept giving me false reassurances. He was scared to tell me. He said because “it was hard.” Not hard to keep sleeping with me and telling me we’re actually getting married.
Not too hard to make love to me that morning and dump me that night.
This from the self-proclaimed man of honor and integrity.
I keep trying to work up the anger, but no matter what, I am still overcome with pain, and I miss him so much.
I thought he was so decent and honorable. If he turned out like this, who can I ever trust again?
Not a single morning has come without me waking up to pain and walking around my apartment sobbing in agony.
How do I work up some healthy anger and start feeling what all my friends are telling me—that I’m better off without him?
How?
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