The First Heartbreak
Mood: I Used to Love Him — Ms. Lauryn Hill feat. Mary J. Blige
There is a reason the song goes, “the first cut is the deepest…” so as you continue reading about my first heartbreak, please know this is no exaggeration on what I experienced and felt.
I was 18 years old and after three months of dating, the man I loved — who shall be referred to as “Key” — called me up out the blue on a Sunday afternoon and broke up with me, while I was visiting with my sister-friend. (Giiirrrrlll do you remember that shit?!) Lol I can laugh now, but oh how I mourned the relationship then…
The relationship, in my opinion, had been going well. We hadn’t fought, I enjoyed spending ALL my free time with him (this could have been a part of the problem that he was not able to communicate), got along with his family and he got along with mine. Granted, we were kids! He was 20, but it seemed like we were on the track to building a long-term relationship…a life together. I certainly imagined us getting married. Full disclosure: I imagined that I would marry all my partners until my mid-30s, as I am a result of the Disney Princess storyline that is sold to young American girls from infancy to early adulthood! I continue…
We had the same circle of friends who we spent time with regularly on our community college campus during the day, went to clubs with at night and sometimes movies on the weekends. I was very content and comfortable. As I type, I recognize how satisfied I was with that period of my life. So, to get an unexpected, and seemingly unprompted it’s-over-without-an-explanation phone call on a f#cking chill ass Sunday fun day… it was as if the rug was pulled from under me. AND THE REACTION WAS TERRIBLE YALL! Do you remember that mess sister-friend?? Lol. I was a mutherf#ckin WRECK people! I mean I COULD NOT STOP CRRYYYIINNGG!! No, no, no! I couldn’t stop SOBBBIIINNGG!! I cried for what seemed like 24 hours straight. Sister-friend graciously let me spend the night over her house, which was not the plan. But my friend could see I was in too much pain to function normally and return home. Thank you girl!
I don’t remember sleeping well that night, but I eventually passed out from the exhaustion of crying. I also don’t know if I kept my friend up and she just never had the heart to tell me. =/
The next mourning, we went to campus and I literally stayed in her car all morning crying. *SIGH* (So much time wasted…SMDH.) I was too distraught to attend classes. My dear friend texted me, that our friends kept asking about me and she told a trusted few that I was in her car. Two of them came to say “Hi” and from their reactions I could tell that visibly I was a f#cking mess! I’m sure my eyes were puffy, swollen, red. My nose was probably raw, red and runny from excessive crying and wiping. I had no makeup on, and I couldn’t muster up a smile, when they so kindly tried to cheer me up and comfort me. In fact, every time I tried to speak some loud, indecipherable, sorrowful noise came out.
The worse part of all of this, besides not knowing the cause of our split, was that I had NO appetite!! I must have lost at least 5lbs in a matter of days because I just could not eat. In my later 20s I finally healed enough to stop handling shit that tries to break me with starvation. Through my late teens and mid-twenties, you could not pay me to eat even my comfort foods and snacks when dealing with emotional pain. I just couldn’t. Nothing tasted good and my stomach never sent hunger pains. Back to the story…
The next day I had to work. One of my duties as a receptionist was ordering materials for our research labs. Here’s what my day looked like for about two weeks straight:
Wake up — crying
Look in the mirror to wash face and brush teeth — crying
Getting dressed — crying
Walking to the bus stop — crying
Riding the bus — crying
Settle into work — sniffling (never crying in front of coworkers)
Order lab supplies — professional, NOT crying
Hang up phone, followed by immediate — SOBBING
Working — sniffling
Bathroom break — sobbing more
Lunch break — walk outside to cry
Looks at phone — too blurry to read due to tears
Back to work — sniffling
You get the picture. This was my life for too long. It was horrible and I don’t wish that on my worse enemy! I even called my Auntie and when she picked up all she could hear was “WWWAAAAHHHAAHHHRRRBBBWWAAAHH!!” as I was trying to explain that Key broke up with me. She could NOT understand a word, which prompted a call to my mom. That night when she got home from work she asked me about Key and the tears flowed all over again. But I can tell you that she was NOT having that shit!
My memory does not recall a hug or pat on my back for comfort. I do know that she said, “You need to stop crying, get your hair and nails done…buy a new outfit and show him what he’s missing.” I was stunned. It was not the approach I was expecting, but it was what I needed to hear. NO, I didn’t stop crying, but I cried less in between hair and mani/pedi appointments.
I cried the most at night. Nights were definitely the hardest, when I was all alone with just my thoughts, darkness and silence. I’m sure I listened to all the breakup songs to date and they made me feel deeper and sob more…but in a way they also helped heal me. I cried less, stopped avoiding my friends, and attend classes. In the midst I made some new friends, which was the best thing. I didn’t have to see Key all the time when I wanted to hang out to keep my mind off the breakup AND the group didn’t have to choose sides.
Any-who, I wore my new outfits and looked like a new woman with new shoes, French manicured finger- and toenails and a shorter, freshly dyed hair. However, it became easier to pretend that I was doing just fine. *insert Boyz II Men song here* As the days passed I grew stronger and missed him less… And one day, weeks later I woke up and had stopped crying. And do you wanna know what the f#ck happened after 3 months of us being a part…he started calling and playing let’s-get-back-together songs on the phone…no words, just holding the phone up to the speaker. The first few times, I really didn’t get what was going on. But he kept doing it and I kept hanging up…until one day when I picked up expecting to hear another tune, he spoke up…asked me how I was doing. Of course, that first talk was short as hell, because I was over it.
He was persistent though and he kept trying until a month later I went on a date with him…he told me that he missed me and that he wanted to get back to together. Inside I was pleased, but the new woman emerging said she had to think about it.
Eventually, we got back to together… long story short, he broke up with me again a year later and then we danced the dance again after a few months a part. I really loved that man, but I can’t tell you what I loved about him now… We ended up dating for something like 2 1/2 years and the third and final time we broke up was because I had had enough. So much had transpired.
He was my first heartbreak…our parents thought we would eventually get married. We were cut from the same cloth as far as backgrounds, but I can honestly say we would probably be divorced now, if we had married, because I had so much to learn about myself, what I need and want in relationships. It was a painful lesson I had to learn and I have no regrets.
What was your first heartbreak like? Share if you dare.
