Getting Over Your Ex Girlfriend, Dealing With Heartbreak, & Letting Go of Your Old Relationship

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

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Her name was Patty. We met while in college, and soon were inseparable. We studied together, worked together, and soon were talking about marriage. I thought my life was complete. I soon found out that Patty didn’t feel the same way about me.

I should have noticed the changes in her. She lost weight and got a makeover. She even starting waxing her legs, something she had said before was worse than going to the gynecologist! Soon she kept talking about her friend named James, and spent many nights in front of the computer screen talking to James. At this point, I still had no clue about her love affair with James.

However, the relationship came to an end one night she asked me to drive her to a hotel so she could meet James, and packed her suitcase with sexy lingerie.

Okay, at this point even I figured it out. I drove her to the hotel, and then called it quits. She was so happy she even paid me for giving her a ride to the hotel.

Those days after the breakup were difficult. I had a tough time getting over my ex-girlfriend. I spent hours in bed, depressed and crying. I watched talk shows and ate ice cream. I had to buy bigger pants, but I sure felt better. I taped a picture of Patty up to my wall…then threw darts at it.

Soon I felt like I could face the world again. I felt like I got over my broken heart, and was ready to move on. I started exercising so I could work off all that ice cream. I started doing things that she never liked, such as leaving beer bottles on the table, leaving the toilet seat up, and walking around in my underwear. I never realized what pleasure those simple things brought to me.

Even though I felt better, I still wanted to get her back. My chance came one day when I was on a date with my new girlfriend and I saw Patty with James. James was talking nonstop about the stock market, and Patty looked bored stiff. I walked up to Patty, said hello, and told her I met my girlfriend when I stopped for dinner after I dropped her off at the hotel that fateful night. And I used the money Patty gave me for the ride to treat my girlfriend to some sexy lingerie.

John B., 39 - customer service representative

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It was the summer after my sophomore year of college, and I was working a full-time job as a guy sitting in front of a screen in a windowless room taking some numbers from some documents and typing them in next to some other numbers in some other documents.

It wasn’t quite as interesting or stimulating as that description makes it sound. I had been with the girl in question for approaching two years, she was my great love that most people seem to discover early on in college. I had recently returned from a visit to the place where she was employed for the summer, a journey involving my taking a car to a plane to a bus to a taxi to a boat, all for the sake of a two day stay during which I felt like an unwelcome intruder. A week and a half later, across a grainy phone connection, early one saturday afternoon, the hammer dropped.

My initial response to her breaking up with me was much the same measured, calm reaction that you would expect from any rational, civilized being: I threw the phone down on my bed and punched a hole in my wall. Big one, too; it needed significant plaster work once I got around to caring some days later.

I then took a walk around the block on pavement that had been sitting under direct sunlight on a hundred degree day, barefoot. This is how I tend to deal with a lot of sad things, whether dealing with breaking up or with other events: by turning grief and depression into anger.

Sadness just sits on top of you like a beanbag chair full of concrete. Anger is an outgoing force, and you can use it to destroy things. And I did. Many, many things.

My dealing with the breakup took many such angry forms. A wooded trail near my house had been littered with trees and branches from a massive wind storm to the point that it was untraversable. I ran it as an obstacle course.

I went into such woods often to find any and all breakable objects and help them fulfill that potential. I wanted music that was as angry as I was, so I started listening to a new band. Starts with S and rhymes with ‘player.’ I think you understand me.

So mostly i dealt with the breaking up by breaking things… As destructive and expensive as it was, it definately made me feel better at the time.

Gavin  31, Engineer

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When Belinda moved in, it was the beginning of the end for us. Granted, we had been seeing each other for over a year, and quite often spent the night in each other’s beds, but something about cohabitation triggered the breakdown of our relationship. In retrospect, all of my actions proved unwise in my attempt to get over my ex girlfriend.

I could say there was a myriad of reasons behind our breaking up, but that wouldn’t really be true. Honestly, the sex just became terrible. When Belinda moved in, a certain complacency set it, and she seemed to treat me more like a roommate than a boyfriend. Most of my attempts at intimacy were brushed off, and when she did succumb to my advances, it seemed forced and she seemed uninterested. When I finally confronted her with this harsh reality, a sad fight/discussion ensued, with tears flowing from both of us.

Belinda told me she just didn’t find me sexually attractive anymore, and I had to admit I felt the same way. We still had an emotional connection and a friendship, but it was clear the romantic aspect of our relationship was over. However, most problematically, she now lived in my house and didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

Belinda had a home-based web business, but work had slackened over recent months. She also wanted to buy her own house, and continuing to live with me would be a good way for her to save money.

In the spirit of continual friendship, I agreed to let her stay, which was definitely a mistake when trying to survive a break up. Our relationship became increasingly tenuous, and although I never wanted to get her back, there were moments when I was tempted to crawl back in bed next that familiar body.

The worst part after the break up came when I attempted to start dating other people. In conversations, Belinda assured me that I was free to see whomever I wanted, but that attitude did not go over in practice.

When I finally met a woman I really liked, Belinda threw constant little passive-aggressive fits, and my possible new love was eventually scared away by all the drama. At that point, I had to get over the broken heart by loosing the new girl while still having to deal with the juvenile behavior of my ex girlfriend. Finally, after a year of this, Belinda closed on her house and got out of my hair, but I can’t really say we are friends any more. Sadly, the other girl never came back.

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Ever just wanted the world to go away and leave you alone? Ever felt like crawling into a hole and pulling in the dirt behind you?

That’s what I felt like during the whole process of getting over my ex girlfriend. Now I’m a guy’s guy, I would say: I like Clint Eastwood movies and beer. So those two things alone pretty much seal the deal as far as manliness is concerned. Let’s be clear…I’m no wuss. But I fell, and fell hard for this red haired she-devil.

And let there be no doubt, she was a devil. The sex was fantastic. Her body was fantastic. Her temper was…not so fantastic. It was argument after argument after argument. But then there was sex, sex, and more sex. Which was great, but I rapidly learned that even the best sex can’t atone for her calling you a bastard (or worse) every time little Miss Perfection didn’t approve.

I never knew getting over an ex would be such a long, tortuous journey. I experienced things I never thought I would experience.  I lived dangerously, drove faster than ever, and drank much more heavily. Just to get over her… and get her out of my blood and numb my brain until I couldn’t even see her in my mental haze.

But getting over her was the most surprising thing I ever experienced. I listened to the singing of Cher, among other things. That alone is enough to drive any self respecting man insane.

This lasted for the better part of two months. We would drift apart and then the urge would hit and I’d go to her like a moth to the flame. And we would fight and I’d feel terrible for a week. But slowly, I got better at the recovery. I didn’t need so much beer. I didn’t need to get that thrill of speed to forget her. And most of all, I didn’t need to listen to Cher anymore. She just depressed the heck out of me.

And in the end getting over my ex girlfriend was a lesson in self endurance and self preservation. It was long and painful, but I did learn a lot about myself and what it means to be in relationship. Don’t let anyone fool you. Being in love is an addiction, because breaking up and then trying to get her back is an experience that is best described as detox. Pure and simple.

Steve Edwards, 39, IT analyst

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As I pushed the “delete” button on my cell phone and watched her contact information disappear into thin air, I realized that what I was doing was the modern equivalent of burning my diary or breaking that heart-framed picture on the nightstand. Somehow, simply pressing a button didn’t feel as satisfying. I was still in the first stages of a break-up, before anger and then heartbreak took their turns. I just felt numb.

There were no excuses this time to allow me to piece together the crumbling remains of my ego or self-righteous anger. She hadn’t cheated on me; she hadn’t fallen in love with some old high-school friend or met someone new. I hadn’t done anything in particular to merit her breaking up with me. The words that had left me speechless were the six most-dreaded in the romantic canon…

“I just don’t love you anymore.”

The heartbreaking lines had been saved for the time when they would have their maximum effect. She had been in New York on business, and I had planned on coming up on the weekend, after her presentation was over, to spend a little time with her there enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. We skated in Central Park, attended a Broadway production, and were strolling down a park lane on a crisp night in late autumn. I pulled her close, and she resisted a little. Surprised, I pulled away and looked at her face. It was ashen, guilty.

“Cole, I have something to tell you. I feel really bad about waiting until now, the night’s so perfect, but I was afraid you were going to propose to me or something so I thought I’d just tell you now…”

Had my hand not been in my right coat pocket, it would have dropped the diamond ring in its case. The night, the setting, the ring, those six little words; the perfect symphony of relationship heartbreak.

About 5 days and 5 bottles of whiskey later, the heartbreak hadn’t subsided, so I decided to lay off the whiskey and go for a walk. Fresh air always gave me a little perspective. The daily walks continued, and my perspective grew.

“Better to have found out before the proposal than 5 years into a pathetic marriage”. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but the thought was something to start with, a “delete” button on a bad break up.

L. Hudd, 29 - Writer

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I will probably never truly get over my ex-girlfriend because I know now she’s the “one who got away.” I failed because I didn’t try, even when I thought I was. I was disrespectful, unfaithful and unappreciative. It’s only now, with years of perspective behind me, that I truly understand just how much I flopped at being a man. This is the story of my how I learned to survive a break up even when I wanted to get her back.

We met in college through mutual friends, ending up together because my roommates were dating her roommates. I think it turned to love faster than I expected and after the honeymoon phase wore off, I was scared by how much I loved her. I wanted to be cool and macho, and deny that I needed anyone to hold me up when I was down. But I did, and I needed her. By this time I was completely overwhelmed with depression, which was not related to our relationship, but was its ultimate end.

My depression affected my actions, what I never said and what I denied I felt. She was so good to me and I did everything I could to push her away. Our relationship was cyclical, depending on my moods. Sometimes we were together for days on end; other times I would camp out at my house and dodge her phone calls, which was easy to do in the days before cell phones. After a particularly rough point in the third year of our tumultuous relationship, I cheated on her. She found out about the other woman after we’d gotten back together again, but her knowledge of my behavior was the last straw for her. She left me for good. And I was left to learn how to get over a broken heart.

Shortly after learning my girlfriend was really breaking up with me, I sought professional help, where I dealt with my depression and finally came to terms with the fact that I’d lost my soul mate and would never get her back.

Being able to put this all into words gives it life and reality that never existed back then. A lot has happened in both of our lives over the last twelve years, but I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement when I learned that she was recently divorced. I think that means I may never get over my ex-girlfriend.

Paul Douglas 34 -  Journalist

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I remember it like it was yesterday. I thought Sarah and I were in it for good. I loved her very much. I had introduced her to my family and my friends adored her. But then, all of a sudden she ended it. According to her, we were not spending enough time together. Apparently, we were always hanging out with friends in a group and were never doing anything together as a couple. I did the initial begging and groveling at her feet, after which she literally threw me out of her place.

So there I was, lovesick, frustrated and quite at lost. I drowned my sorrow in drinks and the comfort of the very friends for whom apparently Sarah broke up with me. They bought me countless rounds of drinks, took me to the newest clubs in town and never mentioned my “ex”.

I was having a tough time referring to Sarah as my “ex girlfriend”. But I knew I had to get used to it…

I knew the drill for I had helped a few of my buddies get over their broken hearts. I knew I would forget her and everything would work out fine. I would meet someone, fall in love and life would be hunky dory again.

But it wasn’t easy to get over my ex girlfriend. Any brunette like my ex would have me longing to get her back. At pubs, any woman ordering a Cosmopolitan would remind me of her. I would relive the way she turned the olive in her drink, left it soaking before chewing on it slowly with relish. If someone put 60s or 70s music on the jukebox, I would be taken back to the evenings when we would have take-out Chinese at home and listen to endless replays of The Beatles and Dylan.

Each time this happened, I would try to snap back out of it and tell myself repeatedly to forget her. Each time my fingers itched to dial her number, just to listen to her voicemail message, I would tell myself to call my mother instead! And trust me, my mother was surprised for she had no idea why I was calling her so many times a week.

Therapy did not work, neither did blind dates set up by friends. Days rolled into months before I realized that it had been almost half a year since breaking up with Sara. And one day, I snapped. While I realized it was hard to survive a break up, I decided to talk to myself once and for all. That did the trick. Every time afterwards, I went over the breakup in my mind, I forced myself to try to look ahead.

Gradually, I opened up more to my friends’ efforts and starting going out with new people. I can now listen to The Rolling Stones without breaking down in tears. I can have a sane conversation with any Cosmo-guzzling date. The only person not so happy is my mother. For now that I am back on track in my life, she does not get so many calls from me anymore!

Joseph Flint,  25, computer programmer

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“Hey, can we go someplace private? We need to talk.”

If my girlfriend told me something like that today, I’d know what was coming. I’d be able to mentally prepare myself for getting dumped a few minutes ahead of schedule. Because those words can only mean one thing: she wants to break up with me.

At the time, though, I wasn’t a wise as I am now. I was just a freshman in college, enjoying my first serious relationship. Ah, so she wants to talk? Great! This’ll be fun. I love talking to her.

Do I need to dwell on the details? We’ve all heard it. It wasn’t me, it was her. We had some great times and she knew I would find somebody new who could give me what I was looking for, and she really, really hoped we could still be friends. She didn’t understand, any more than I did, that getting over a broken heart isn’t easy.

I didn’t quite process all this as it happened. Again, I was young and little naive. Today I can at least see the warning signs that the end is near. But then, it seemed to come out of nowhere. She might as well have told me she was alien and was leaving because she had to report back to her home planet. It sounds a little clichéd, but the feeling was exactly like being punched in the gut. I know it’s called heartbreak or heartache but isn’t really the gut that feels the worst of it? But the pit of my stomach was crying out in pain. How could I get over a broken heart if I couldn’t even get over a broken gut?

This happened twenty minutes before I had to go take a final for one of my classes. The girl wasn’t cruel, by the way. She misheard something I’d said earlier, and thought I was meeting her on the way from the test. When she realized her mistake, she was mortified. But in fact, maybe it was for the best. Thanks to the final, I had something to take my mind off the pain.

It reminded me there were other things in life, and that helped in getting over the heartbreak. It took some getting used to being single again, but soon enough I was back on my feet.

- Chris, 26, Graduate Student

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