More than six months ago, I broke up with my boyfriend of over a year. We loved each other, and like a lot of relationships, the first few months seemed flawless. We got along so well, we had the same appreciation for a lot of things (fine dining, the outdoors, animals, etc.), and after six months, I still got butterflies in my stomach when I thought about him.
After about ten months, I began to notice that we were arguing more. It seemed he was more concerned about his friends than me. Plans would be cancelled at the last second, he seemed to give into peer pressure than stand his ground, and he’d pick fights with me over such insignificant things. Another thing that became apparent was his jealousy. I figured that this was just a rough patch that all relationships encounter ... but it never seemed to get better.
I am a very caring person—I love to do things for the other in a relationship, so long as it’s reciprocated. I found out from my good friend that he wanted space. Apparently he didn’t like having me around as much as I liked having him around. I was crushed, needless to say. This was also during the time that after months of saying, “I love you,” he decided maybe it was wrong of him to say that, that he “didn’t know what love meant.” It seemed like these hurtful things were occurring way too often. So I gave up. I let him have as much space as he wanted, and I went to go hang around with this new group of friends that I had made, one in particular, another guy whom I was hanging around more than my boyfriend. I felt like my company was always welcomed and appreciated—something that I didn’t have with my boyfriend. I liked that feeling.
For our one-year anniversary, despite the fact we argued more than got along, I put a lot of effort into it. He loved hockey and wanted to go to the Ice Bowl more than anything. After the tickets were sold out, I got my hands on two of them for us, which cost quite a lot. In addition, I got him his favorite team’s jersey—another costly item. I thought he would do something special too, considering it was our one-year anniversary. My best friend and I were discussing all the different things he could have planned for us.
The day came ... and nothing. He didn’t plan anything. We sat on the couch and watched TV. It took all I had to not cry, but the tears came anyway, and he had no idea what had upset me. When I told him, all he could say was that he was sorry. He decided to take me to a last minute restaurant—which we had to wait for—simply out of guilt. I had never been so heartbroken in all my life. This one person, who I loved with all my heart, showed no signs of loving me back. A month after, I broke up with him.
During the end months of our relationship, he started to get suspicions about the other guy whom I had become close with. We would get in pretty heated arguments over it. I won’t lie; I did like hanging out with my new guy friend more than my boyfriend because of how he made me feel. He made me feel wanted, and he actually showed that he cared for me in numerous ways. He did things a boyfriend should do ... things my boyfriend did not.
About two months after my boyfriend and I broke up, my guy friend had told me he loved me. I was nervous because I wasn’t sure what to think. I felt as though my ex was right about his suspicions, although at the time we were dating I did not have those feelings towards my friend. The months after breaking up were very rough. We contemplated getting back together, but he would constantly show me that I was right for breaking up with him. Months later, I decided to date my guy friend ... which infuriated my ex. I suppose rightfully so. When I think about it, I think I dated my friend for the wrong reasons. He was an amazing guy, but that’s not reason to date someone. You have to have strong feelings for them, and I didn’t have that. We broke up a month and a half later ... I just wasn’t feeling it.
