Kim was the one for me. I knew I was destined to spend the rest of my life with her; we were going to have a beautiful family and then grow old together. I had no doubts whatsoever that we would live happily ever after. Well, let’s just say we didn’t have a fairy tale ending. This is the story of how I had the strangest breakup of my life and the task of getting over her.

I had been dating Kim for three years until the fateful day. I came home early from work to surprise her with a beautiful bouquet of calla lilies (her favorite flower), a bottle of champagne, and some delicious chocolate covered strawberries. I was looking forward to a romantic evening and was smiling throughout my drive back to our place.

When I got to our house, I had my first surprise. There was a car I had never seen before in the driveway. Alarm bells started going off in my head. I very quietly opened the front door. The first image that came into my vision was a trail of clothing leading up the stairs. I started to feel a little sick to my stomach, like I had gotten a whiff of spoiled milk.

I crept up the stairs and looked into the bedroom. It was then that I experienced the weirdest sight of my entire lifetime. My soon-to-be ex girlfriend was naked on the bed with her new lover. I wasn’t really seeing her however. My eyes were filled with the guy in the room and his performance of an unspeakable act. To put it delicately, he was playing his own flute. And not with his hands. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or vomit. I dropped the flowers, champagne, and strawberries and left the house immediately.

The ludicrousness of the situation helped me in getting over my ex girlfriend. I met up with my best friend at the bar and he helped me to see the funny side of the state of affairs. He helped me to realize that to get her back was an absolutely awful idea. Any girl that was weird enough to have been involved with the scene I had just witnessed definitely deserved to be my ex girlfriend. We drank ourselves silly and I woke up the next morning laughing. Thank goodness the weirdness of the situation made it an easy breakup.

Jim Duncan, 28, newspaper reporter

Getting over my ex-girlfriend was a long road for me, literally! There was a nine-hundred mile stretch from her house (where I found her cheating) to mine.

I was once a quiet, painfully shy kind of guy. I didn’t venture out much. Meeting a girl in general public was virtually non-existent for me.

So, way back when open chat rooms were ridiculously popular, I found myself self-confined to my dark and dreary house, additively glued to the front of the computer monitor every day after work.

That’s when I found her.

She was the love of my life (or so I thought at the time). We spent months on the phone together. She’d whisper sweet nothings into my ear every night as I sat there absorbing it all up into my lovesick heart.

The time came. I had to visit.

The first umteen trips went great.

I had it in my mind that I was going to move there; replant myself in a foreign state where I knew no one but her. I was going to marry her—the love of my life!

Until…

It just so happened, after scraping the bottom of my piggy-bank, I found just enough money for a (yep, you guessed it) surprise visit.

Oh, how surprising it was, indeed.

I drove sixteen hours to find the one who swore would never lay her eyes on another man…on TOP of another man. I’m not sure if her eyes were open or not, but I had a feeling it didn’t matter much to her.

I never said a word, never made a sound. She never even knew I was there.

UNTIL…

I was stuck in her driveway because my car wouldn’t start. I was crankin’ on that son-of-a-bitch like I was stalled on a railroad track and I could see the train coming at a hundred miles an hour.

I hold the record for the longest stretch of road-rage in history; nine hundred miles of red-eyed, mind-blowing madness.

Surviving the breakup was difficult. For months afterward, it seemed as though I was dreaming. She was all I had consumed for a solid year. Suddenly, she was gone—an emptiness words can’t explain.

But, in the end, I pulled myself out of the mud and soldiered forth.

Since breaking up, she has tried to contact me several times, trying to win my heart back. Ha! Dream on, hooker!

Don Compton, 30, Chat Room Moderator

It has come to my attention that mending a broken heart is much easier when the person with the broken heart is a female. Females have multitudes of heartbreak routines and a steadfast support system of friends. When a girl gets her heart broken, the immediate remedy is ice cream and The Notebook. After her eyes can no longer produce tears, the circle of girlfriends comes over to bad mouth the heartbreaker. The circle of girlfriends and the heartbroken girl hit the clubs, the mall, or anywhere else where males run rampant. A rebound relationship complete with pictures to plaster all over social networking sites proves that her heart is whole again.

Yes, so much easier being a woman with a broken heart. However, for all the males out there, it is a much more complicated process. My girlfriend and I had been going out for eighteen months. I thought everything was going just dandy. Then, the complaints started.

“Why can’t you express your feelings?”

“Why can’t you ever be romantic?”

“Why is it always physical with you?”

On and on and on it went. I tried appeasing her grumbles. I tried to limit the amount of time spent on adult activities. I tried throwing out sentences filled with love whenever I could. I tried to please her, but the complaints piled up and soon she was fed up. After eighteen months with the girl I thought I was going to marry, it was over. She was my first love. I was eighteen, and she was seventeen. It was over.

She asked me not to contact her anymore, to make the healing process easier. I tried to focus on my own healing process, yet I did not know how to go about it. This was my first time trying to get over a broken heart. Going to my male friends was not an option. It is said men are not sensitive. This might be a stereotype, yet I found it all too true in regards to my friends. I went into a period of depression. I relived all of our memories repeatedly. What had gone wrong? What could have been different? The few girlfriends I had were amazing and pulled me through. One girl in particular was extremely effective. We went to the same college, and she spent time counseling me every day. She sure was effective. So effective, in fact, that she became my new girlfriend! Five years later, we are still together, engaged and with no complaints!

Tom Whindfield, 23, Algebra II teacher

I didn’t date in high school. I barely had crushes, I didn’t know how. Flirtation was a language I’d never learned, and dating was a completely different country.

It’s no stretch to say that I was kind of a nerd, but I had friends and she was one of them. The Christmas after I graduated high school, she went for it. She kissed me! I asked her to be my girlfriend, she agreed and everything was great.

One week later she called me up and told me she wasn’t ready for a relationship yet, but of course, we could still be friends.

Being just friends meant we could go to dinner, ride our bikes in the park, talk for hours, hold hands, even snuggle together during a movie. It was exactly like dating, except without anything concrete.

Since she was technically my ex girlfriend, I finally told her I needed some space. Getting over an ex can be hard, even harder when you’re still sort-of-not-really dating. She asked why I needed space, so I finally called her out. I told her I still had feelings for her, and I needed to know if she had feelings for me.

She did, but she valued our friendship too much to mess it up with a relationship.

Seriously. getting over her was hard. We stopped talking. The first week was the worst. Every time I was bored I would pick up my phone and then remember that I couldn’t call her. Over the past 2 years she had not only been my best friend, but my only friend.

I dated other people, but always found myself fantasizing about a way to get her back. I would imagine her showing up on my front porch in the rain, begging for me to forgive her. It never happened.

Eventually, we got back in touch online. One day I got an e-mail from her, telling me she still thought of me, and sometimes thought of leaving her boyfriend for me.

I should have been thrilled, but instead I was mad. I thought about how she had jerked me around for years, and how she didn’t really want me, she just wanted me to want her.

After so many years, I see how she and I would have grown apart no matter what. A relationship would have been a disaster, but so was our friendship, so what’s the difference?

Finally getting over her took me six years and we only really dated for a week. I’m sure that must be a world record.

R. Miller, 26, Student

“Jane” and I were attached at the hip the moment we saw each other.

I began to feel heartbreak just within a couple of weeks into the relationship. I had applied for a job out of state prior to meeting her, and as luck would have it, I began to get requests for more information and interviews. Things were going so good for Jane and I that I did not let the thought of leaving deter the natural progression of the relationship. We became closer. She met my children and I met her son. He was a great kid and he captured my heart as she did.

When I was offered the job, I knew I had to accept it. Breaking up with Jane was something that I did not want to do. Even though we had only known each other a couple of months, my feelings for her were strong enough that I asked to her go with me. She declined. It was heartbreaking to hear that although she loved me, she was not willing to give up the stability she had to move with me. I had a choice to make. I made the wrong one.

Jane helped me pack my moving truck. As I pulled the door down on the truck, the tears started to flow. This break up was the hardest I had ever had to bear. There was something about this woman that I did not want to let go of. We listened to a couple of sentimental songs on the radio as we hugged, kissed, and cried our goodbyes.

I settled into my new job and life. Jane and I talked less and less. It was heartbreaking for me to hear her voice so I think I just avoided it. Eventually our communication dwindled down to a few friendly emails here and there. We both started dating other people.

Jane is happily married now with three children. I never have found anyone to fill the hole in my heart that she left. I recently talked to her. I finally got to tell her that choosing my job over her was the worst decision of my life and I will forever have to live with the heartbreak that I have caused myself. I wonder if she feels the same.

“Michael”, 40. A radio personality

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

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

Sometimes it seems like there’s just no way to do it. After all, I can’t just turn off my feelings. I’m not a machine, a computer that can be rebooted and everything will be all right. Nope, I’m human, and when she kicked me out, I thought I would never get over the broken heart.

Things seemed so great with us, like a match made in heaven. We had all the same interest, the same sense of humor, politics, and views on parenting. We did everything together. We spent every moment together, even moved in together. The day I came home and found the locks changed, I was absolutely stunned.

My first thought was that there was something wrong with the key. I mean, really, who expects to come home from a long day at work to find the locks suddenly changed? There I was, tired and worn out so I knocked on the door for her to let me in. That’s when I heard her voice from the upstairs window telling me I couldn’t come in, I had to leave. How does this happen? How do you go from being so in love and spending all your time together to standing on the front porch trying to figure out how you’re going to get your pool table out of the basement?

Changing the lock was her not so subtle way of breaking up with me. Well, obviously, I got mad and started pounding on that door. After all, I paid the rent, if anyone was moving, I figured she should.

But, the cops didn’t see it that way. I did eventually get my stuff back. But it took a long time and the help of mutual friends.

For almost a year, I was incredibly conflicted about her. I loved her so much, and yet I also hated her with an intensity that was surprising. There was no middle ground. There was no thinking of her fondly. When I thought of her, I did one of two things. I yearned for her, and desperately thought of things I could do to get her to take me back. Or, on the opposite end, I would consider making a little blond haired voo-doo doll that I could stick needles into. Any chance I got I would complain about her and put her down, all to try and ease my heartache. After all, hating someone is much easier than loving someone you can’t have.

Over time, it got easier. I felt that my broken heart was slowly mending. Gradually, I felt less hatred towards her. I could think about her without the intense, powerful feelings. Getting over that broken heart definitely took time and patience. But I’m proud to say that I did, eventually, get there.

Heartbreak, as a rule, is best left to other people; indeed, that is who we imagine heartbreak to be for.

Until it happens to us.

True to the beer slogan, you never forget your first girl. I don’t know what counts as your first girl in that slogan, but for me, it meant the first one you take seriously. You know, the first one you think of as part of yourself, the one you may occasionally commit the cardinal sin for, and choose over friends… and even beer. She’s not the first one you explore sexuality with or have a laugh with. She’s not the first girl you dated or the girl you brought home to mom and then apologized for.

She’s the first one you apologized to on behalf of your own mom.

For me that girl was Maryanne.

We met in college, and I suddenly and instantly lost interest in the carnal smorgasbord that was campus life. The Tri Delts are drunk, and playing a game involving blindfolded body part identification? Ho hum. There’s an ecstasy-fueled cheerleader dogpile in your dorm room? Sorry dude, gotta study. You get the picture.

Maryanne and I weren’t joined at the hip. We didn’t have to be. Neither of us had been subjected to heartache, so our trust (being untested) was absolute. We had no idea we would break each others’ hearts, never mind what it was like.

I’ll spare you the details of what made her storm out one night, and the details of why I didn’t go after her — though part of me (a lot of me) wanted to. Suffice it to say we had said things that could not be unsaid. It was over, whether the break was clean or protracted.

I was ready for a hard night without her. I was even ready to reach for her in the morning, and realize she was gone. What I was unprepared for was how long she would not be there, to wit, forever.

My heart wasn’t broken. There was a Maryanne-shaped hole in it. There was no mending the break, no curing the heartache with tequila like you cure a headache with aspirin.

There was only living until the hole grew over with new experiences and new loves.

Mark,  47 - Writer/editor