When Kyle left, I was distraught…but conflicted. I was absolutely miserable for about half of a year, and it was as much a relief as it was a blow when he walked out. Well, there’s a new breakup in town, and it has no conflict. 

This relationship was just over one-tenth of the length of my prior one, but it hurts much worse, if you can believe that. With Kyle, there was another woman (well, women), and I lost my house and a lot of mutual belongings. Yet, it doesn’t compare to what I just lost.

I was really happy and hopeful and appreciative this time around. I didn’t have to pretend that I didn’t envision a life together. I could trust, laugh, plan, plot, and reminisce. This was a boy I’ve known since I was six years old — and liked since I was seven (like-liked, as I would have said then). I can’t remember the last time I was thankful daily for what I had. I felt that there was finally a man who treated me right and cared about me. I wasn’t scared of what he would say if he didn’t see me with makeup on; he always said I was beautiful. I looked very forward to the days he would be in town; lying around and doing nothing but watching Buffy and playing with each others’ hair was so fulfilling.

I never know quite what I do wrong…why I scare off those about which I care. I’m trying to remain optimistic, for some reason. I usually can admit to myself that the new ex and I weren’t right for each other, but I whole-heartedly disagree with that in this instance. 

As a silly girl, which is all I can ever be, I always dream of finally having my own family unit — one this hasn’t been marred by divorce or bad decisions or animosity. I saw him, his family, and their interactions as an aspiration. I want that, and I could easily envision it with them. And as for him, I would have loved nothing more than to offer support, love, and help while he was in medical school for ten grueling years — and for the rest of his life. I wanted to ease his stress and make him smile while his work load got larger. I have respected and admired his ambition since I was a kid, and I would have been honored to aid him in any way while he accomplished more. 

I guess it’s a moot point, all of this. I’m still hoping for the best. My intentions are pure and honest, and I’m holding out for another chance. It’s really indescribable how badly I feel about this loss. I’m actually even a little surprised by it. Usually, I lock every lock, but now I’m only locking the one to which he has a key. I keep crossing my fingers that he’ll show up, and we could talk about another try. I guess years of watching old movies will do that to a gal.

I know it’s ridiculous, but could someone offer me some words of encouragement or advice? Please?