I should have known in the beginning that the relationship was going to end badly. After all, I watched her go through a lot of guys – including my best friend. But as I watched her, I fell in love with her. I thought I could change her. After all, through all this, she fell in love with me, too, or so I thought.

We lasted an amazing couple of years before she started cheating on me . . . that I know of! We were on a double date at the drive-in with one of her girlfriends and this other guy. I got out of the car to get popcorn and pop at the stand, and I saw the other girl going into the bathroom as I was heading back to the car. As I was approaching the car, I noticed nobody was in the front seat. I figured my girl was in the bathroom with her friend. Until I got closer. Turns out she was in the backseat with her buddy’s boyfriend! And they were going at it pretty heavy.

So, I tossed her and her high-fashion pumps and webbed toes out the door. I regretted it as soon as the door closed behind her. I thought we’d be together forever. I even thought about buying the engagement ring.

It felt like there was this crushing weight on my heart. I spent four days in bed, just thinking about her. Pathetic, I know. I just knew deep down that I was never getting over her.

Over the next year I moped around. I avoided all the places she liked – I even avoided eating the foods she loved. Every thought I had dealt with how to get her back. I had girls hitting on me, but I was too depressed to even try to find someone else. Nobody was going to replace my ex girlfriend. My buddies were giving me advice about getting over an ex – even my mom was trying to help by giving me magazine articles. But there was no getting over her. I just needed time.

It’s been a few years since my ex girlfriend. But even after this time, that event still bugs me. So, my new girlfriend takes the opportunity to poke fun at the ex whenever she sees fit. What a great one I have now!

Steve
Construction Worker, 28

Summer

To say that we had some fun together would be an unforgivable understatement. Emily and I had a frigging blast. She was wild and spontaneous but had a thriving inner life, while I was hunkering over Camus with an untapped longing for action. We complimented each other in nearly every way and got into a terrific amount of trouble with our families, with the law and with each other. It was young love, neurotic and complete. She was the only person I saw when she was in the room.

Fall

Things began to take a turn for the worse when it became clear that I, well, I thought that this was going to be forever and she didn’t. Within a short period of time, it was clear that it was going to take a lot of effort to sort out our differences, and Emily made the decision to call it quits over a 2am phone call. I managed to make it through the call pretty well, and it wasn’t until I hung the phone hit the receiver that the dam broke.

I’ve never been able to relate to people who describe crying after a break up as a cathartic process. Maybe it’s because I keep things bottled up, but crying is a violent and angry process for me that I find difficult to deal with.

The next day, it was incredible just how dull the world outside suddenly appeared. It might be melodramatic, but it was true; a world without her seemed pointless and empty.

Winter

PostEmilypartem depression came on with a rush of emotions that I had never felt before, and I was immediately hooked. In the aftermath of a breakup, no one wants to hear that time heals all wounds because your pain is the only thing you have left from your love. Instead of thinking and doing the things that I knew would make me feel better, I became obsessed with my sorrow and wallowed in it shamelessly. 80′s torch songs were resurrected from ancient playlists as I commiserated with Phil Collins over candlelight and boxed wine. I tortured myself endlessly with the indie pop songs that we use to cruise and make love to as messages from well meaning friends went unreturned. In other words, I became ridiculous.

Spring

I don’t clearly remember the first time that I realized that I had gone through an entire day without thinking about Emily, but I’m certain that it is was in the spring. New life was emerging from the ground as the world turned green, and there was this unfamiliar freshness to things that took some time to get used to. In a matter of weeks, I found myself in my favorite record store buying new albums that I had never listened to with Emily and was able to think that she might have dug a particular track without feeling any sense of loss. It took some time and some awkward false efforts, but I started getting myself back out there. Those phone calls from friends got returned, and, slowly, time did heal those wounds while allowing me to still cherish my time together with her.

Anon.

I don’t think I will ever forget my worst break up. Back in the day I worked full-time to pay for college. I was dirt poor, but had huge dreams. However, the parents of the girl I was in a relationship with had even bigger dreams for their little princess. Unfortunately, I was crazy about this girl. She was very much out of my league, but very much into me. Her parents were millionaires and she was terribly shallow, but I didn’t see that. Now, while those two things do not always necessarily go hand in hand; in this case, they did.

A major contention with her parents was my motorcycle, and for this reason I guess they considered me a “bad boy”. Me? I was the guy who got picked on in high school and just wanted to make something of myself. We persevered though, declaring our undying love for one another; until one really bad day.

Her parents called me and asked me to come over and meet a few close friends of the family. Her parents hated me so, and  although my radar was going ballistic, I went. I tried to get in touch with my girl, but she couldn’t be reached. I got there and her parents ushered me in. There on the couch was my girlfriend with this blond guy with pecks, legs and arms like tree trunks. Turns out, her parents had been working that angle for a while. Needless to say, he had her out with him soon after that. She never even bothered to formally break it off with me. I was crushed over the relationship break up.

What ensued in the next two weeks was not pretty, and this is in no way intended to be taken as advice to anyone who has had a recent break up. I can only say what worked for me.

After the break up, in a nutshell, booze. I drowned myself in anything that wouldn’t drink me first. I didn’t go to school and was fired from my job. I wouldn’t shower, nor would I climb out of my boxers.

I became “King of the Crooners” by night and “King of the Losers” by day. My friends had finally seen enough. They started circling the wagons after one too many sad Karaoke songs. After three months I rejoined the living. Without them I may have never gotten over the break up.

Jared D, 41,  writer

Have you heard the old Neil Sedaka song, “Breaking Up is Hard to Do”? Allmusic.com describes it has “two minutes and sixteen seconds of pure pop magic”; an assessment I was in complete agreement with until it happened to me. The heartbreak of losing the girl of my dreams turned an otherwise enjoyable song into the melodramatic theme of my twenty-something tragedy.

I’m still not sure why it happened. We had it all, I thought. Sunday nights at the pizza shop, hours-long conversations on the couch, hopes and dreams for the future. I never saw the breakup coming; much like the tree that jumped in front of me just days after I got my driver’s license.

I guess the biggest heartbreak of that relationship was the way it ended. My girl decided to tell me in the parking lot after my brother’s wedding reception. What joy! Apparently she decided I was “too good” for her and as she spoke, her words fell on my stunned ears with all the grace of a sumo wrestler performing Swan Lake. Opening the door and exiting my truck she struck the final blow to my broken heart with the words, “I still love you.”

Then she was gone…..

In the days following I was convinced my sweetheart would come back. After all, I let her go just like that stupid poem says. But as the days turned into months I discovered there’s something even more heartbreaking than losing your girl – the realization she’s not returning. When it finally hit me I kissed Neil Sedaka goodbye, figuratively speaking of course, and decided to embrace the attitude of Clint Eastwood’s “Heartbreak Ridge.”

It was time to adapt; time to rise above my pathetic love life and secure the elusive objective of true love. I trained. I learned. I cleaned up my apartment.

And then one day there she was…sitting across the room in a pale-yellow prairie skirt and tastefully matching blouse, her blond locks cascading down to her shoulders. It was time to go into action. I reached down deep to pull up all my training, and a breath mint too, and headed her way. You can fill in the rest.

Matt Gerwitz, 44, pastor and free-lance writer

It was one of the most beautiful Sunday mornings I could remember, as she stood before me vulnerable, emotionally wracked and helplessly pleading. My eyes are empty as I search for a reason to get her back. She demands to why I don’t want to fight for her. She is beautiful in her short shorts, rumpled tee shirt, and hair that still smells like morning.

More than ever, I want to reach out and hold her. I want to hold on until forgetfulness sets in and everything is right with us again. Alas, my phone rings and I insist that I must answer it. She stares and glares, confused as to why she has pushed me into a corner and I won’t push back.

We were in love just a month ago. Although we had been together for five years, our relationship still had the new car smell. Yet, underneath that smell, there was some old food under the seat. Something that is rotten and forgotten. That’s why I stayed out too late. That’s why she returned my calls an hour later than she should have. I thought she could do better. She knew that she could. For a longtime, we told each other that love was enough until it was all we had. Then we said the words and realized there was an ocean between us. Then I kissed another girl.

Of course, that kiss did not lead to our breaking up. We were already a bunch of frayed nerves, disingenuousness, and anger. No, the kiss confirmed that she really could do better.

A drunken mishap, with a girl that could never measure up to my ex girlfriend, told me everything that I needed to know about myself. My clumsy pawing and feigned regret told me one thing. My dishonesty told me everything else.

I became colder and more distant. I was convinced that she would see what was obvious and do what was necessary. She called me and challenged me. I was evasive…. She said we should end it and I weakly agreed. I would get over the broken heart. So, what the hell is she doing here this morning, Sunday morning, wondering why I won’t fight for us? I am silent. It is better this way. You can do better than me. She leaves in a rush. The girl in my bathroom slinks out, gets dressed, kisses me on my forehead, and leaves.

I disgust myself.

Louis Meadowbank, 30, self-employed

Perhaps the worst breakup I ever had the misfortune to go through was in the summer between my junior and senior years at college. My girlfriend was a year older than I was and had already graduated and lived five states away, which put some stress on the relationship. But we were still together, really more out of sheer obstinance and the safety that comes from a boring daily ritual — the telephone call. It would typically resemble something like this:

Me: So how was your day?

Her: Fine. How was yours?

Me: OK.

Her: Well, I have to get ready for dinner. Bye.

Well, I was studying to be an archaeologist at the time, and this summer was going to get my feet wet on my first expedition. So I signed onto a dig on one of the Greek islands. The town I was staying in didn’t have internet. Heck, it barely had a payphone. When you think of one-horse towns from spaghetti Westerns, upgrade the scenery to the mid 1980s and you’d have a good picture of the place. Needless to say, with the technological gap and the time difference, the daily phone calls went away.

To be honest, there was also this girl I met… Well, there might have been three girls. One of them even needed help on how to get over her ex girlfriend. Sometimes it’s nice to work in a profession where women get daily exercise digging in the dirt, thereby ensuring a relatively low fatty-to-hot girl ratio. In America, we’ve become so used to the obesity epidemic that we forget how large of a percentage of the female population is attractve when you only have to subtract out the fuglies. And even the fuglies have their moments when they’re pouring you that 22nd shot of raki, which is Greek moonshine that’s usually made in a sink or a toilet bowl, judging by the taste. But I digress.

Breaking up was definitely in my future. After a couple months and three girls, I go back home to talk to my girlfriend. I was still young and naive, so I figured I’d tell her the whole sordid story and break up with her. That’s what happens when you have a conscience that’s weak enough to let you do what you want, but strong enough to make you feel guilty about it later.

Unfortunately, she broke up with me first. She’d cheated on me while I was gone — several times. Even though I had done the same thing, I was devastated.

I suddenly didn’t know how I’d get over a broken heart. I spent the next year trying to simultaneously get her back and get over a broken heart. I’ll spare you the nasty details, but I was unsuccessful on the first count, but did discover one of life’s great truths. I was able to get over my ex girlfriend by getting under someone else. That’s the best way to survive a break up. And as a word of parting advice, based upon my experience, Swedish girls are better in the sack, but Norwegians are better cuddlers.

Pyrrhus, 25, archaeologist

It’s not a secret that getting over a break up isn’t easy, but I never realized it could be nearly impossible until one horrible night at a local Mexican restaurant.

It had been about a month after the break up with my on-again, off-again ex-girlfriend of two years. I knew I wasn’t over her, but I was dealing with the pain in the usual fashion—dating someone new and drinking lots of alcohol. Thanks to an icy margarita and the pretty face sitting across from mine, my mind was happily diverted from my previous relationship that particular night. Then my ex walked inside … with a guy I used to know in college. What could be worse? Well, let’s just say that my buzz completely died when the hostess sat them at the table next to ours. There wasn’t enough tequila in the house to help this awkward situation.

The rest of the evening is still a blur. I am, however, pretty certain that my date wasn’t impressed when she had to drive me home. We never went out again. What I do remember is that I didn’t get squat done at work the next day. Instead, my ex-girlfriend and I emailed each other back and forth for hours.

I emailed my ex girlfriend and I carefully crafted each sentence to somehow let her know how much it killed me to see her with another man, while still trying to hold onto at least a little bit of pride. Her responses were much more humble.

She explained how she had to hold back the tears from her date the entire night. She even told him that she wasn’t ready to go out again. It may sound petty, but I was thrilled to know that she was just as miserable as I was.

While we didn’t get much accomplished at work, that day proved to be very productive in another aspect. I finally figured out that this breakup story wasn’t over just yet. It was time for my ex-girlfriend and I to change the ending—and get it right this time. Somehow that horrible night gave us the inspiration we needed to fix our relationship. Seven years and two kids later, I’m happy to say that it’s still working.

Like breaking my leg skiing last year, I never thought this would happen to me. Never in my worst dreams did I think I would get dumped …never thought I could be laid so low by a tiny red head. And, I didn’t see it coming, didn’t have a clue she would walk. Jan and I were the perfect couple and I still think we could make it, but she has moved on.

She moved out and moved on big-time. The heartbreaking part was that two weeks after she left me she was engaged to Mike, a senior partner at the insurance office up the street a couple of blocks. Maybe it wasn’t me personally.

Maybe, as a lowly sales rep, out building my business day and night I just wasn’t successful enough for her. I don’t know and Jan isn’t talking to me. The breakup wouldn’t be quite so heartbreaking if I still had her as a friend.

My pal, Lou tells me to get over it; no woman is worth the heartbreak according to Lou. Women fawn all over Lou. Every time we go out he is surrounded with his choice of women and I go home alone. Of course, his choice isn’t always a choice woman; take the one who lifted his wallet when she left in the middle of the night!

I used to tell Lou to look for a better quality of women, ‘someone like Jan.” Now, stinging from the relationship heartbreak of losing Jan I’m not giving advice anymore. Still, breaking up would be easier if the woman wasn’t great in every way, like Jan. Oh, Jan had her faults, like bringing home strays and I don’t mean cats or dogs.

She brought a woman with four kids home when I was recuperating from my broken leg last winter. They turned the apartment into a zoo! They took over my home office, the couch and the kitchen. Jan said I didn’t need the home office anyway because I was off work and neither of us liked to cook so the kitchen was no big deal. They camped in my apartment for a grueling two months.

I am starting to look at the bright side of breaking up. No more surprise guests, and I have the closet and bathroom back. And, there’s a fine looking women who just moved in across the street.

Randy – Insurance sales

As a guy, I don’t usually think too much about the whole “heartbreak” thing. Usually that world only applies to when my favorite team gets upset by the worst in the league. However, I have definitely dealt with relationship heartbreak once. You know – breaking up, and the muddled months afterwards. My ex girlfriend Amanda held a nasty secret from me for a good long while, and I’ve gotta say, it was definitely one of the more heartbreaking things I have ever had to deal with.

Amanda and I were together for four years. We met at work, became casual acquaintances and eventually our relationship bloomed into something that was a mature and trusting relationship. At least, I thought so anyway. Somewhere near the end of the line, Amanda had found someone else. To this day, I’m not sure exactly who he is, or why she left me. She didn’t leave me with a lot of kind words or explanation past “there’s someone else”. What I felt next was pure overwhelming heartbreak.

Like I said, as a guy, I don’t really know how to deal with this stuff well. There were a couple of days after we broke up that I don’t really remember due to some extracurricular activity with my friend Jack Daniels. Actually, maybe there were a few more than just a couple days that I don’t really remember after we broke up.

Searching for answers and putting the blame on yourself is real easy to do in that situation, but it doesn’t help any.

Getting over heartbreak is about as difficult as anything can get. Sitting around, binge drinking, binge eating are all natural tendencies us guys want to find solace in, it dulled the pain for me but it didn’t get me an closer to actually getting over her.

Instead, try distracting yourself. Find a new hobby or regain interest in an old one. I found that reading over thousands of baseball stats went from being something as boring as Golf to something that can keep my mind off my ex. God knows what she was doing anyway. I focused on my work, school, or hobbies and keep a fresh outlook on the future. Taking a vacation also helped me get over the broken heart – how can you be heartbroken with some of your best buddies on a cruise ship getting tanked every night? I found that a heart can be as easily mended as it is broken (trust me, the Dallas Cowboys remind me of that every year).

James D, 27 - Teacher