Happy Birthday to the Man Who Broke Me

There are very few people who I have told this story, so it surprises me that I have the heart to post it for the world to see.  I’m finding it, though, to be very therapeutical.

Almost everyone who knows me knows that there are two real reasons that I’m still single-  “The one who ran away” and “the one who broke me.”  I’ve often considered myself to be far too jaded, or broken, to love again.  That is, until recently.  Like I said a few posts ago- I think I’ve FINALLY come into my own.

When I was 17, I met Mr. Run Away.  It was the very first class of my very first day of college; August 1996.  I sat down next to a friend who I knew from high school, who was also sitting next to Mr. Run Away.  My friend introduced us, and the rest, as they say is history.  We spent an extremely tumultuous 12 or 13 years together where we broke up more times than I would like to admit (let’s just say it’s more times than most of the couples in anything written by Shonda Rhimes).  To say the least, he was love of my life and I will never forget that.  We were just never able to get on the same page; and, one day, out of the blue, I learned he was dating someone else.  I didn’t know it then, but when he walked out of my house that night, I’d never see him again.  He ended up marrying and having children with her.  As far as I know, they’re still together and happy.

During the longest of these constant break-ups, I met Mr Broken; who was, coincidently my boss at the time.  As an aside, I DO NOT recommend dating your boss, it never works!

Anyway, Mr. Broken was beyond charming and SO different than Mr. Run Away- I fell head over heals almost instantly.  A year later, Mr. Run Away come up to me at school and told me he needed to talk to me.  What he told me, shook me to the core.  He said that Mr. Broken was a drug addict.  At first, I didn’t believe him and I told him so; I’d assumed, at the time, that he was just jealous and would say anything to get me back.  He planted the seed though; the notion stayed in my mind.

Valentine’s day was a week later and Mr. Broken and I had a weekend getaway planned.  I showed up at his house exactly on time and went inside to get him.  What I found almost killed me.  He was in the bathroom, snorting cocaine.  I felt my heart break almost instantly.  I hopped in my car, drove away, and never looked back.  The next day I called Mr. Run Away and cried to him for what seemed like hours.  I started thinking about all of the times where Mr. Broken was late, or never showed up at all, and realized that he’d been doing it right under my nose all along.  That’s when I really broke.  I felt, at that moment, that I’d never be able to trust anyone ever again.

That was just about 14 years ago and it still haunts me every February; it is also one of the biggest reasons why I hate Valentines Day.

Happy Birthday Mr. Broken, I truly hope you’re doing well.





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