Who were you when your heart first broke?

I was the girl with tears gushing down her face, watching Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” over and over and over again. (Need a refresher? Go to www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUiTQvT0W_0) I’d push the VHS cassette in, press play, sob, press stop, rewind (clackety-clackety-clack), press play, sob … over and over. I was living with him. One day he packed his bags and left. Forever. I called my best friend and blubbered the terrible news. She promised to leave work early. While I waited, I polished off the vodka bottle in the cupboard, then wobbled to the bottle shop to get another. The next day, I chucked a sickie. I was too distraught (and hungover) to work. I started stalking him, to make him realise his mistake. All he realised was that I was a nut job. It took a long, long time to get over him. I mooched around, drank far too much alcohol … didn’t shag a soul. I look back and curse my younger self for wasting those firm breasts, flat stomach and smooth face. All those wild oats I could have sown … But I was certain no-one else would ever want me. And I was wrong. One day, when I least expected it (as always happens), I met a man. A totally inappropriate, magnetic, insanely intelligent man. It was Husband. We became that sickening couple at the pub, the ones who constantly stroke each other and gaze adoringly into each other’s eyes. That giddy phase passed and he found endless ways to test my love. Like going on an open-ended holiday to Asia and telling me not to wait for him. So I didn’t. Fate timed my “I’ve found someone else” letter for his Christmas Day poste restante mail delivery. Hah, that showed him. But it didn’t bring him back early. It took being best man at his brother’s wedding to do that. I picked him up at the airport – my “someone else” not having quite working out – and was frosty for at least an hour before caving. Twenty years later, we’re still together. That first heartbreak feels like it happened to another person, in another life. Because it did. I’m not the woman I was back then. I would never have had this amazing life if my heart hadn’t been broken. He did the right thing. And I’m grateful to him for that. Now. Back then I was a total mess.

Who were you when your heart first broke?

11 thoughts on “Who were you when your heart first broke?”

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  1. What a lovely story of how you got with your husband – although so painful such a sweet ending.

    I was a child. Didn’t realise it at the time. I was 14. Some may say it wasn’t love but I still love him now (but in a very different way). We weren’t meant to be – my path wasn’t meant to follow the downward spiral his did. He’s always in and out of prison now and I have a degree.

    Great idea for a post.

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  3. It was at a KHS school dance! She danced all night with another boy. Heartbroken? I was shattered! And we still had to socialize as part of a clique (those damned cliques, remember them?) so it was doubly devastating. We moved away shortly after. I learned that procrastination is a very negative attitude!

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  5. “All he realised was that I was a nut job.” Hahahhahahahaha. Been there!

    But who was I when my heart was first broken? I was 15. I was smitten. He dropped me one afternoon in the bus lines. No warning it was coming. He was in love with another girl in my group. I couldn’t breathe for the lump, no, the goddamned boulder, that was clogging up my throat. I fought back tears the entire bus trip home. I felt so ashamed and worthless.

    The memory still doesn’t sit well with me. Not because of HIM but because that 15 year old endured the hurt silently. My family life was so dysfunctional that my parents didn’t notice I was in so much pain. My wish is that my daughters will be able to come and tell me about their broken hearts so I can kiss them and hold them and tell them, “I know. It’s shit. But you are awesome. You will get through this.”

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