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I’ve always been the kind of woman who believed in love, fairy tale love. But after a string of failed relationships throughout my twenties and into my thirties, I found myself wondering if I’d ever get that storybook ending. At 35, I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that I might be destined for a different path. That was until I met John.

John is my friend’s brother, a handsome man with a charming smile and an impressive job as an executive at a large firm. The moment I laid eyes on him at a barbeque, it was like a light bulb went off. He was everything I thought I wanted, confident, witty, and successful. Little did I know that the connection I felt was a one-way street.

At first, I brushed off my feelings. After all, I was the queen of unrequited love. But the more I saw him, the deeper I fell into my fantasy world. I started weaving elaborate daydreams where John and I were the perfect couple. I envisioned him picking me up after work, before we headed out to a cozy dinner. In my mind, we shared everything from late-night conversations to weekend getaways. I lived for these moments, constructing our “relationship” in vivid detail, even if it existed solely in my head.

Two years flew by in this surreal haze. I created scenarios that played out like scenes from a rom-com. I could practically feel the warmth of his hand in mine as we strolled through the park. John consumed my thoughts and was with me every minute of every day. Every lunch break, every gym session, my mind drifted back to him. I thought about what our future would look like, how he’d propose, and the family we’d have together.

Then came the fateful day at the Christmas markets. I was browsing through the stalls, caught up in the vibrant atmosphere, when I spotted him. My heart skipped a beat. But as I approached, the world around me slowed. There he was, holding hands with a stunning woman. A wave of nausea washed over me as reality crashed in. He smiled at me, genuine and warm, as if we were old friends. “Hey! I’m getting married in two months!” he announced casually, his fiancée beaming by his side.

I felt the ground beneath me shift. The facade I’d built crumbled into dust. I forced a smile and managed a weak “Congratulations,” but inside, I was screaming. The two years of fantasy and longing exploded into anger, sadness, betrayal. How could I mourn someone who had never been mine?

The aftermath was a rollercoaster ride I never signed up for. I went through every stage of grief as if John had really been a part of my life. I cried, yelled, and buried myself in self-doubt. “What was wrong with me?” became a mantra I repeated daily. I tried to distract myself with a few rebound one-night stands, seeking solace in fleeting connections, only to find they left me emptier than before.

My friends didn’t know, how could I tell them I’d been having an imaginary relationship with someone they all know. I felt ridiculous for mourning a relationship that had only existed in my imagination. Yet, there I was, heartbroken over a man I’d never even shared a real conversation with.

Over time, I began to pick up the pieces. I realized that the love I felt for John wasn’t about him; it was about my longing for connection and the fear of being alone. I had built a fantasy to protect myself from the vulnerabilities of real relationships, but in doing so, I had also isolated myself.

As the months passed, I slowly found clarity. I learned to embrace the rawness of my feelings instead of running from them. I started to reconnect with the parts of myself I had neglected, focusing on my passions and friendships. The illusion of John faded into a lesson about self-love and the importance of authenticity in relationships.

I may have lost my fantasy, but in the process, I found a deeper understanding of what it means to truly connect with someone. Love doesn’t always fit the fairy tale mould, and that’s okay. I’m learning to appreciate the messy, beautiful journey of life, one day at a time.

I’m also checking out the apps that promise an attentive AI boyfriend !

My Breakup Journey

I met Jake at high school, where teenage crushes were everywhere. We were your classic high school sweethearts, bonding over classes, mutual friends, and late-night texts about our dreams.

At first, our romance was full of cute gestures—funny memes sent during class, sweet messages, laughter and kisses. Weekends were spent binge-watching shows, going to school dances, and hanging out at local spots, making memories I’d always treasure.

I still remember that picnic Jake surprised me with, complete with my favorite sandwiches and cupcakes he made from scratch. Those simple moments really captured the essence of our love—passionate yet tender. Our experiences shaped who we were, making our bond a huge part of our lives.

Through the ups and downs of high school, our relationship felt like a safe haven in all the teenage chaos. We supported each other through school stress, family drama, and all the social ups and downs. It wasn’t just a phase; it was a meaningful chapter filled with the sweetness of first love.

As we grew up, the carefree vibe of our relationship started to shift. Adult responsibilities crept in. Jake, who used to be ambitious and driven, started to change. He got into gambling, which messed with his finances and led to some sketchy choices.

What really hurt was how he started preying on vulnerable people. He’d buy cars that had issues, fix them up just enough to hide the problems, and then sell them to unsuspecting buyers—regular folks and first-time car buyers—making a decent profit. It wasn’t just cheating on his taxes; he was ripping off families who were just trying to get a reliable vehicle. The traits I once loved were now overshadowed by this troubling behavior, leaving me confused and disillusioned.

I felt torn between the guy I fell for and the one making choices that clashed with my values. I began questioning our future together, wondering if our love could survive these changes. With all this pressure on me, I hit a crossroads and had to face the tough truth about our relationship.

I found myself in a tough spot, feeling deep love for Jake while grappling with serious ethical concerns about his behavior. The excitement that once filled our relationship was being overshadowed by issues I couldn’t ignore. His dishonesty, especially towards people who trusted him, raised major red flags that I had previously overlooked.

This wasn’t just a passing thought; it became a constant worry. On one hand, I cherished our good times. On the other, the growing gap in our values made me question what we had built together. Each dishonest act felt like a betrayal, and a threat to the dream life I had built in my mind with Jake.

Talking to friends didn’t help much; their opinions only added to my stress. Some said to stick around and help Jake improve, while others stressed the importance of self-respect. Caught between these conflicting views, I stood at a major decision point, unable to ignore the ethical issues overshadowing the love I once cherished.

Breaking up with Jake truly shattered me. I felt completely broken. The sadness hit me hard; I couldn’t eat or sleep, and everywhere I looked reminded me of him. We had grown up together, gone to the same school, and frequented the same neighborhoods, so every street, every corner, felt like a piece of him was still there. It was suffocating.

I struggled to figure out who I was as a single person, separate from being Jake’s girlfriend. It felt like I had lost a part of myself. Familiar routines now felt heavy with memories, making it hard to breathe. The emotional rollercoaster of anger, regret, and sorrow was relentless.

As I navigated through my feelings, I experienced all the stages of grief. Some days were better than others, but I learned that healing takes time. This journey pushed me to reevaluate my needs and who I was outside of my relationship. Setting boundaries and prioritizing my well-being became key parts of my healing process.

Over time, I found comfort in journaling, hanging out with friends, and I took up hiking. These activities helped me process my emotions and rediscover myself. I learned that pain could be transformed into creativity and personal growth. Ultimately, my heartbreak turned into a journey filled with lessons about love, loss, and the strength it takes to heal.

It’s now 15 months since we broke up. I’ve had a rebound relationship which lasted 3 months and helped take my mind off Jake. I am almost healed. Well 90% of the time, I am healed. But all it takes is for our song to play on the car radio, the smell of cupcakes or a message from my cousin, also called Jake, and nostalgia kicks in. It’s no longer a massive punch to the stomach. I could go on for a week without thinking about Jake. Now that’s progress.