Who Broke Your Heart The Most?

In My Humble Opinion
21

I didn’t really have all that many significant relationships before meeting my wife, but there was one…

I worked in a fairly ordinary warehouse; she was the new girl in the office - tall, slim, raven-haired, beautiful, intelligent and witty; whenever she came down to the shop floor, all the men would stop and stare.
Then people started saying she liked me; this just seemed incredibly unlikely and I was aware of how cruel hoaxes are perpetrated, so I just carried on as normal.
Then I got a card on Valentine’s day; it was of course anonymous, but appeared to be in her handwriting and everything else just fit…I really wanted to believe it was from her, but I just couldn’t let myself; eventually, I prepared myself for painful and embarrassing failure, gathered my courage and, on happening to pass her, alone, on the stairs, asked her if she’d like to go out for a drink; she (breathlessly) accepted and I nearly fell to the floor.

So we went out and it was true; she liked me, she had sent the card; we had a few drinks, there was a good deal of snogging and cuddling (but nothing more).
A few heady weeks passed; there is no way to describe the envy of my workmates; we met often, everything seemed to be just rosy. I, the naive, inexperienced, but overjoyed young man, threw myself wholeheartedly (and in retrospect, foolishly so) into the relationship. I was walking on air.

Until the bombshell dropped; She asked if I could drive her to her mother’s house; on the way, she said “there’s something I have to tell you”. “This is it”, I thought, here’s where she dumps me.
Except that what she had to tell me was that she was pregnant; obviously nothing to do with me, as we had never progressed beyond the sofa; apparently, this had happened because of a single, reckless incident with her previous BF, who she had no intention of seeing again; she was over 2 months gone, but had worked herself into some state of denial at the first missed period (and had remained in this state when we first started going out).

Anyway, I didn’t particularly see why this had to be a dealbreaker - again, retrospectively, I can kick myself for being so bloody naive, but I was young, emotional and in way over my head - and so everything looked (to me, the fool) like it was going to continue.

Then the next day, she phoned me and said it was over.

Looking back, I pretty much understand that she just did what she had to do, but at the time, it destroyed my entire world; not only had my dreams been fulfilled, hopes been raised so high, then dashed to pieces, but I also had to return to the rowdy world of the warehouse and be mercilessly teased/scorned over people’s persistent misconception that I was the one that made her pregnant. It was the end of the fucking world.

That said, I wouldn’t change a single thing about it even if I could; it was horribly painful, but I learned a lot in that short space of time.

22

I came here to post mine, but all I can feel now is empathy for those of you who’ve had it, too. I wish you all strength, health, and luck.

23

My family broke my heart the most. After my parents separated, we all went our separate ways. I didn’t do very well for a long time. I had a strained relationship with my mother, two brothers and sisters for years, although I had a special relationship with my next-youngest brother (6 years difference). We are both musicians, and we’ve played together a lot. We have an inexplicable psychic bond when playing that is rare to find with another person.

There is a year between him and my youngest brother. I didn’t have much of a relationship with him. When I was 11, we adopted a sister. Separated by all those years, we didn’t develop much of a relationship, either. I spent most of her childhood away. Eventually, I had got in good with my mother, and then she got cancer. Within a couple of years, she was gone. Right around the time she was dying, the woman I would marry came into my life, but my mom never got to find out about her. It’s a shame she never met my wife; they would have got on like a house on fire. And my mom could have come down from Canada to visit us in the winter. Well, that ain’t gonna happen now.

In the years since I moved away, my sister has distanced herself from the family. My youngest brother lives in Vancouver, BC. The other brother stayed in Ontario, and made a series of bad decisions that will affect him for the rest of his life. He has gotten angry and bitter about it, to the point where I had to break it off with him. He’s gotten painfully difficult to remain friends with. That hurts the most. That, and the fact that he has a son whom I’ve never met. All the plans I had for our future seem to be right out the window now, unless he has a change of something-or-other someday. I miss my brother, but I don’t miss the person he’s become.

On the other hand, I have developed a great relationship with my youngest brother over the years since I moved down here. We talk on Instant Messenger just about every day. He’s my only connection to my family. After my grandparents and parents were deceased, the extended family stopped getting together, and I haven’t seen lots of my relatives in twenty years or more. So, I essentially have no reason to go back to the place where I used to live, because there isn’t anybody there to visit with! I can’t share my happiness with my closest family, because they don’t give a crap.

Most of my wife’s relatives are great people. They make up for the lack of my own family very nicely. No strained relations or anything. It’s been refreshing seeing a family that isn’t dysfunctional. They all get along. Some of that would have been good, years ago.

24

The person who broke my heart the most was my own biological mother.

I didn’t know I was adopted, see. I was 14 years old and was over at my second cousin’s house, and she showed up. ‘She’ is Saroj - I see no reason to protect her. She was about to leave, and took me aside and told me,

“I am your real mother. Not her (meaning my adoptive mother, her older sister). I am telling you this because she is growing very selfish.”

And so saying, she left my life for her new husband and was out of touch for years.

My God, that broke my heart. Lots of things that resulted from it were bad, but that moment of realizing she spoke the truth, that was the worst ever. I’ve been in two serious relationships and a couple of not-so-serious ones, and even my first serious relationship which ended in flames didn’t hurt so much as that vulnerable moment.

What kind of mother deliberately does that to her own flesh and blood?

25

My sister.

She twisted every family situation to her advantage, lied to her friends and her husband’s family about how we treated her, never bothered to see if we came through the recent hurricane all right or not, and just lately, moved and changed her phone number without bothering to let us know about it. She was the spoiled pet of the family from birth and considered it her just due for having been born. My parents have cried many tears over her. I’ve been too angry these last few years to cry.

26

My son’s natural father.

I had met him in high school, and maintained a platonic friendship despite the objections of his jealous girlfriend-at-the-time.

We spoke occasionally during the few years following graduation as he moved from place to place and job to job. He had broken up with his girlfriend at some point and asked me to come out and visit him in Los Angeles. He said he’d take me out places and help me find a job and a place to live if I wanted to stay there.

It sounded fun, and I needed a change in scenery. So I hopped on a plane and went. Everything was fine…for about six days. He did take me places, but beyond that, I was left to sit in his apartment all day long while he was at work. I had come from a very small town, and he knew that I would need a little help getting used to the area, but he never seemed to have time for that.

One night, he began telling me that he had always had feelings for me and just never had the courage to come out and say it (partly because he had that girlfriend…I guess she had cause to be jealous after all). The conversation continued in that direction until he kissed me. It was such a passionate kiss I couldn’t keep myself from reciprocating, and eventually we consummated the “relationship”.

The next day, I asked him what we would do if I ended up pregnant (we didn’t use protection… :smack: ). He told me that he would be happy and that we could raise a child together.

As the days went by, it became obvious that we weren’t designed to live in the same dwelling. I left to go back home to my mother’s. I told him I would come back out to California after I had some time alone, but once I got home, I didn’t want to leave again. I called him to tell him I wouldn’t be back and could he send my stuff to me. I offered to pay the shipping; all he had to do was bring the stuff to UPS. He said he would but he never did.

A month and a half later, I realized that I was pregnant :rolleyes:. I tried to call him to tell him, but his phone number had changed. He had disconnected his pager, and refused to answer my call when he was working. Finally, I had to fax a goddamn letter to him to tell him that I was carrying his child. He never responded. As a matter of fact, the day I told him that I wouldn’t be going back to live with him was the last day I ever spoke to him. He has never paid a dime in child support.

My son is now eight years old. He is in the third grade. He loves Harry Potter, Star Wars, and The Lord of the Rings. He plays Monopoly and Rummikub. He has a sense of humor well beyond his years.

His father will never know what he missed. My heart breaks for my son who may wonder one day why his dad didn’t want to know who he was.

27

Ugh, heartbreak I’ve just recently started to get over: his name is Thomas, and he’s a gay man. I thought until pretty recently that I was a lesbian. I still think I am, really, but something about Thomas just dug down deep and wouldn’t let go. I have only known this person a short time (about 1/2 a year), but his charm and charisma and humor and everything else about him made me fall in love. The worst part of it is that we’ve been somewhat physical, so I suppose a part of me held out hope that he wasn’t totally gay. Nope. Just about 98 percent.

The self-questioning sexuality issues he’s left in his wake have been interesting (read: confusing). He’s not totally out of my life yet, but honestly, he will be soon. As fun and wonderful he is, he can also be a total, self-absorbed, inconsiderate jerk. I’ve recently come to the understanding that he cares very little about other people in general, and even though I still totally love him, I hate him almost as much. Eh. Maybe it’s just a defense mechanism, but I’ll take it if it helps me get over him.

Back to women…whew! (Though they’ve been known to break my heart, too.)

28

My heart has never been broken.

29

Well I’m not sure if this qualifies…

Right after college I got a great job working outdoors, unsupervised. Eventually I met this co-worker named Steve. We got along extremely well and proceeded to sleep together almost immediately. Neither of us were serious about a “relationship”. We hung out almost every day, ate breakfast together most of the time before work and generally had ourselves an enviably good time, plus sex. We would go to the beach together and he would surf while I boogieboarded. We would play hooky from work together. I helped him build a motorcycle. I got along with his friends and roommates. One night we were at a concert and he met this girl, even introduced her to me that very night. I could tell right away that he was serious about her. It hurt a little to have less of his time, and my pride was a bit bruised, but I was okay with it. We were still sleeping together on occasion, behind her back. Then he hooked me up with a friend of his, whom I got serious with pretty quickly. Immediately, it was all over. Completely and utterly over.

I understood that we couldn’t sleep together any more. In fact, that was what I wanted, having gotten serious with his friend. But after that, he basically never spoke to me again. I would see him as a “couple” but otherwise it was like our friendship had never existed.
It hurt really fucking bad. I had pretty much considered this guy my best friend. I knew it probably had something to do with a very jealous girlfriend, but I feel like if that’s his only reason for cutting me off than he’s a fucking pussy. Maybe he didn’t want his buddy (my new boyfriend) to think that he was too close to me, but to cut me off totally? If he had other reasons I never figured out what they were. After I broke up with his friend, I never saw him again. I could look him up but I know it would never be the same. Our friendship as it was would never exist again. It actually hurts to write about it, five years later.

30

Well, many of you have probably heard this one, and know I have pretty much forgiven, without his knowing, for myself - but I will never forget.

I don’t think I’ve ever gone into the details… but here goes.

I had been with a guy since graduation - my first serious relationship - for four years. At first things went okay, but eventually things devolved into an abusive relationship. He was very, very manipulative, and I can’t believe even today how gullible I must have been. Had I been observing this relationship from the outside, I would never have fallen for the stuff this guy did. But fall for it I did, and live with the consequences I did, until I finally realised that I could not ever have children with a man like this, a dirty, filthy cheating, lying, life-threatening leech. It’s not that I even wanted children, but accidents happen, and what if I had an accident with this guy? A child deserves better than that. My self esteem was low enough that I didn’t care much what happened to me, and I believed I deserved what I got in life, and that I got him. But he began talking about children while threatening my life, and I realised that the relationship was seriously, seriously fucked up. I wasn’t doing anybody any favours by sticking around. It took a long, long time to build up the courage to leave him - not because I loved him, but because I was scared of him. When I did finally run, my family formed a barrier around me and wouldn’t let him near me. That breakup did not break my heart - it was liberating and felt damn good.

Anyway, during this time, I had made friends with a guy online who lived in Seattle (I’m from NB, Canada), who really helped me with my self-esteem issues. I knew some of his other friends, and it all seemed safe enough, so we planned on meeting each other. Wow. The moment I stepped off that plane, we were in each other’s arms and all over each other. We spent the night together, and I remember when I rolled over in bed the next morning, I was thrilled that… well, that he was still there.
This guy treated me like a queen, and before I left, bought the biggest rock I had ever laid eyes on, and we were officially engaged.
Every moment between us was electrified. We couldn’t go anywhere without mauling each other. We didn’t care - there was no one else in the whole world but he and I. We could speak to each other from across a crowded room just by looking at each other. People envied us. The sparks, the passion, the heat, the intensity. I felt alive again, and even better, I felt good about myself. I felt sexy, I felt loved, I felt wonderful.
We spoke to each other every night on the phone into the wee wee hours when we were apart. For two years, he whispered to me each night, “Trust me, my darling, let go of the past. You have nothing to worry about anymore.” You see, because of my past relationship, I did have some trust issues, and sometimes I would worry, and I would bring them up when we were apart. But no, I was his darling, his beautiful, his love, his light. “Without trust, this will not work, my love, so trust me, and everything will be okay.” And I did. I let go of my past. I was flying so high… so goddamn high.
The last thing he said to me was, “I can’t wait until you are here. I love you so much.”
Then silence for two days.

Then a fucking IM message: “Anastasia, I can’t marry you.”

And he moved in with a girl he was working with.

Every single time I tried to contact him, he would get angry at me, and he would e-mail me, demanding I leave him and his “beautiful Desiree” alone.

What? :confused: :frowning:

He told his best friend to deal with me, because he didn’t want to anymore.

And some of you know the rest. The suicide attempts, the councelling, the ungraceful, shameful way I handled the news. And how his best friend was so disgusted with him that he severed contact - and married me, eventually. My husband is the best friend I’ve ever had, the most amazing lover, and he treats me wonderfully, but with a certain respect I didn’t realise was missing from my past relationships. He’s unselfish and kind, gentle, warm, and loving. I didn’t know what I was lacking until I let him in… and it took a long time before I would let him in, and he had to jump through hoops of fire to prove himself. I was somewhat cold toward him and all men for a long time. I’m a pampered little princess now, but goddamnit, I earned my way here. My husband is wrapped firmly around my pinky finger - but I am gentle. I don’t crack the whip (unless, you know, he wants me to!) I filled a certain void in his life, and he filled one in mind, and we ended up fitting perfectly together.

So, as for the heartbreak… I have to be grateful it happened. Sadder, wiser, yes, hell yes. But what do we learn when we’re happy all the time?

As for the ex, by the way, the girl he moved in with left him, he came crawling back to both me and my husband, begging forgiveness. He called last Christmas, and I didn’t recognise his voice. That surprised the hell out of me. The voice I once loved so much - I thought I’d know for sure when I heard it again. No, I didn’t, not even a little bit. I cheerily asked, “Who is this?” And he confusedly, but still peppy, answers, “Mark!” Honestly - the first thing I thought was, “Sheesh, not enough information there, dude, do you know how many ‘Marks’ there are out there?” And I cheerily asked, “Mark who?” Really confused, he answered with his last name this time. I froze. He continued, encouraged by my silence, “I just wanted to wish you guys a Merry Christmas!” And my mind was reeling… the last thing this guy ever said to me was “I can’t wait until you are here, I love you so much.” Finally, I found my voice, and said, just as cheerily as before: “Oh, that’s too bad. Goodbye!” And hung up.

And that was deeply satisfying, without cursing, without getting angry, I put him where he belonged. He tried a few more times to get through to me, but my husband blocked every attempt. And I’ve had time to heal, forgive him in my own heart - hell, look where I am today - and I rarely think about him anymore. I still remember, yes. But not as often. It’s hard to think of the bad things when my husband comes home in the evening with a huge grin on his face and sweeps me up in his arms and spins me around and around and around…

31

My first wife.

It was a bad time in my life: I was unemployed and, though looking, was being a bit picky (I wanted something more than just a job, and was beginning to start writing fiction seriously, getting encouraging notes from George Scithers of Asimov’s). She was working.

She was also something of a flirt. For my part, I was not the jealous type, which seemed to send a signal to her that I didn’t care.

In any case, it all came to a head one night in April. I was doing some volunteering and had a committee meeting that night. She was also doing volunteering and went to what was supposed to be a committee meeting.

She didn’t come back. I had no idea what had happened, or where she was, and had no idea how to find out. It was the longest night of my life. I couldn’t sleep at all.

Around 7:00 am, a car came a dropped her off. I knew then exactly what had happened. She said, “I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not ashamed of it, either.” Then she shut herself down. She cut me off completely, despite my efforts to try to convince her it shouldn’t end. She just did not let herself care about me.

We separated and then divorced. I was lost – no job, no marriage, nowhere to live (I ended up moving in with her grandmother and aunt, who thought she was crazy), nothing. The one thing that kept me going was a note from George Scithers, saying he’d buy a story of mine if I made a few changes.

In the long run, it worked out all right. I had met my second wife in a class around the time this all happened (ironically, my first wife insisted I take it, despite my worries about the money – and, no, she didn’t use it for an opportunity to cheat). She helped me through it all and we eventually had a wonderful daughter (my first wife didn’t want children; I knew it was irretrevably over when she mentioned the other guy had had a vasectomy), and I developed a small success writing SF.

She married the other guy. He died about ten years ago. I couldn’t help but gloat a bit when I heard that.

32

Not really in the same category as any of the above, but…five dogs, by my count, have broken my heart, over the last decade or so. That’s not really accurate—they didn’t brake it, but that’s how it ended up…

The first one, I’d known literally my entire life. The others were adoptions or rescues, and I think most or all of them had been older than I was when we got them, and they all just…chose me. It could have been anyone else, it could have been no one, but they liked me. They all lived long, happy lives, but—

christ, I’m tearing up right now. Do you know what that’s like, to feel that kind of pure love directed towards you, out of nowhere? And then, at the very end, you’re completely unable to do anything to help them but maybe hasten death? I would have gone to hell for them.

And remembering it all afterwards, now, it feels like I have a lump of lead hanging in my chest. Like a piece of death. It just got a little bigger every time.

Negra, Mugsy, Buddy, Dusty, Millie…'miss you.

33

I don’t want to go into details, but I’d like to share the gist of it, because I’m curious to know if such a thing has ever happened to someone else.

During my first semester of college (hi, NinjaChick!), I was very unstable, maybe close to a nervous breakdown. Long story short, this one guy was very kind to me…whenever I was upset about something. And only when I was upset. If I was happy and smiling, he didn’t want to talk to me. Would brush off a simple greeting, forget about hanging out. Never did anything with me except talk about my problems. If I started to cheer up, he would book out instantly. Refused to dance with me at parties, though he danced with other girls. And so forth.

The thing is, I didn’t necessarily want to be his girlfriend. I would have been content to be his friend, because I really needed a friend at that time, not just a crying towel. What he did to me was worse than if he’d simply left me alone. No positive reinforcement for feeling good, just rejection, giving me another reason to feel bad. And again, I don’t want to go into details, but I have reason to think that he knew exactly what he was doing, and did it on purpose, just to prove he could and boost his ego. As I said to a friend several years later, “I think he set out on purpose to break my heart.” And that person said, “It was wrong of him to let you think he was your friend, but not do what a friend does.”

It sounds odd, I know, but that’s what happened. It wasn’t merely a crush, as some people thought at the time; it was a carefully crafted manipulation. Which I did NOT need. Anyway, I got over it somehow, but man did it mess me up.

34

[hijack]You didn’t run with him, did you?[/hijack]

35

I thought that getting a Dear John letter via email was bad, but the worst was the girl after her. I shall not get into the evil, vile things she did, but I will say that I gave her the nickname of Septic Tank because I came to relize she was usually full of shit.

I’ll probably never be completely over her and will probably never be able to fully trust again.

36

Losing my cat Achmed was the worst heart break I’ve ever endured. But that wasn’t a romantic heart break, and that’s what I’m dealing with right now. It’s hard to have perspective on these things. I’m sure this current heart break I’m going through is not the worst, but since I’m in it right now, it feels like the end of the world.

This was the first time I’d ever promised someone I’d never leave them, and been promised the same in return. I started to look at reception halls and we planned to tell my father on Christmas. I’m 34, but until this one, I never let myself believe that I could really have this kind of relationship. I’d always been very careful before, but somehow he circumvented all my defenses and I fell into it 100%. I was really THERE, for the first time, no reservations, no holding back.

Something changed. For him, not for me. I don’t understand what happened, really. I just feel so disappointed, not only in him, but in me for letting myself believe it was true this time. It’s been very hard for me to accept this reversal. I’m not really sure what to do, since talking to him only makes things worse. I guess time just has to pass and I’ll be able to look back at this as the folly that it was. I’m not there yet, though…

37

My ex wife stomped the livin’ crap out of mine. Not just once either.

I was such an idiot.

38

I would second that sentiment.

39

My second wife. My first wife and I parted on good terms; we got married young and just grew apart.

I met #2 - SatanSpawn - about three weeks after #1 and I seperated. Yep, ours became a rebound relationship. We got married as soon as possible after my divorce was finalized. We were living in Austin and about six months after the marriage, I got a job in Houston. I was staying with a buddy during the week and commuting home on weekends, all the while looking for a house. Finally found one, got set up for the big move, and she drags her feet. She doesn’t want to move. Finally we move and about three weeks later, she wants to go back to Pennsylvania and visit her folks. She never came back. She changed the return ticket back to Austin and moved in with a guy I thought was my best friend. About a week later, they came down with a moving van and cleaned the house out to the four walls.

Years later, I found out that she had been shagging him regularly while I was commuting. He would lurk nearby on Sunday evening and as soon as I drove out to head back to Houston, he’d pull in. He’d leave about 5:00 p.m. on Friday and I’d hit the door about 7:00 p.m. or so. They had apparently started up about 2 months after we were married and kept it hidden from me quite well.

She took me for damn near everything but my eyeteeth and screwed me up so badly emotionally that it was many years before I dared to have anything more than a purely sexual relationship with a woman. She is one of the very few people that I genuinely hate in this world (fire of a thousand suns and all that), even after more than 25 years have gone by since the divorce. If I happened to see her again and she caught on fire right in front of me, I wouldn’t bother to piss on her to put it out.

40

I had a HUGE crush on a co-worker for years, and then things just fell into place. One day in passing, she asked what I was doing for my birthday, and I said that I’d be in Escalante, UT–perhaps she could send a b’day card to me there c/o general delivery. She replied that she might just do that. Sure enough, there was a card waiting for me at the post office. When I got back from vacation, we started dating, and I was head over heels in love.

On the surface, she was everything I ever wanted: smart, funny, atheletic, willing to travel with me, financially independent. (Oh, did I mention that she was drop-dead gorgeous?) Ah, but then reality struck. She was one of those people who “gets close and then runs away”. I’ve read that people with low self-esteem have that tendency. Well, it wasn’t a tendency. I was so smitten (stupid?) that I let her dump me three separate times, even after friends and other co-workers tried to make me see that she’d never change.

Finally, one day at lunch, she broke up with me for the final time, and I stood in the parking lot in tears. In a fit of good judgement, I got a transfer to another office to avoid any further contact, but I carried a torch for a long, long time. Once in a while, I’ll have dreams about her, and I’ll wake up in a cold sweat.